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Her eyes jerk up to mine. “Yes. I’d be mad if you didn’t.”
“Okay.” I kiss her forehead again. “I’ll stop asking questions you don’t want to answer.”
“Okay.” She breathes out and visibly relaxes. “Thank you for catching the gnarly beast who was bent on death and destruction.”
“I’m going to take it outside.”
“Don’t let it eat my kids.”
I chuckle. “I promise.”
“Do you want some eggs?” she asks. Then we look over and realize that the whole time we’ve been talking, Sally has been eating every bite from every plate, including every last egg on the serving platter. “Well, I can make some more.”
Sally gets down from where his big body was leaning across the table. Katie laughs. It’s the great big belly laugh that I remember from when we were kids. When Katie laughed, the world stopped to listen.
“He’s really a good dog,” she says, shaking her head. “I guess he just likes eggs.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I admit. I’ve seen him for all of what seems like five minutes since I got him.
“He slept in the bed with Trixie last night.”
“That’s nice of her, to share her bed.”
“She slept all night. No nightmares or crying. It’s been a long time since she’s done that.” Then she remembers I’m still holding the mouse. “You want to get that thing out of my house, Jake?” She nods toward the bowl.
“Yep.”
I go and take the mouse outside. Her kids help me by finding the perfect spot to set it free, but I don’t tell Katie that. Let her think her hero vanquished the monster. Then Katie makes more eggs, and I join them for the loudest, goofiest breakfast known to mankind.
But in the mania, there’s a sort of peace, too.
19
Katie
Jake, Mr. Jacobson, the kids and I settle into a sort of rhythm during the next two weeks. They show up for dinner, bringing all the food with them, and they cook it on our grill. Then Jake and I wash dishes after dinner and talk about nothing and everything while Gabby beats Mr. Jacobson at cards. Trixie puts bows in Sally’s fur, paints his nails, or brushes him until he gleams while all this is going on. Alex is the only one who’s left out.
He’s still throwing bottles into the lake with notes to God in them. Jake brings them to me. He doesn’t say anything. He just passes them over and I take them. They all say the same thing. They’re beseeching God to send his dad back because he thinks we’re in trouble.
And we are. The longer we’re here, the more I feel it. He’s going to come. He’s going to wreck the peace I’ve built here.
“Hey, Jake,” I ask as I dry the last glass after dinner.
“Hey, Katie,” he replies with a smile.
“Do you have Wi-Fi at the big house?”
He nods. “Sure do.”
“Do you think I could come and use it?” I have it on my phone, but of course I didn’t bring that with me.
“Sure,” he says. He stares hard at me. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” I respond, shrugging off his concern with a breezy wave. Over the past two weeks, Jake has stopped looking at me like I’m a puzzle he has to figure out. He’s become my friend again. A friend who occasionally places lingering kisses on my forehead, or sits on the couch next to me with his hand on my belly, trying to get the baby to bop his palm. “I just want to do some Web searching.”
“You can go now, if you want,” he says, nodding his head toward the big house. “I’ll stay here with the kids.”
“Oh, Gabby can watch them.”
