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Lydia rested her head against his chest, inclining it until her lips brushed his. “We have two hours before his owners come,” she said, stroking Eddie’s velvety ears between her fingers. “Let’s take him for a walk on the beach. Finish watching the sun rise over the mountains.”
“Yeah,” Jackson agreed. “I’d like that. And so would Eddie.”
And it would be another moment he could add to his library of memories with Lydia.
Maybe that would be enough.
The knock on the door came at ten o’clock that morning. Jackson stood and blew out a mouthful of air, walking to the front door to open it. Eddie was lying next to Lydia on the sofa – and he lifted his head at the sound of movement, a muted growl rumbling from his throat as he looked over at the door.
“Simba!” a high voice cried out. A boy – aged maybe nine or ten – ran in, sliding onto his knees and throwing his arms around Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s tail started wagging so hard it was whipping Lydia’s legs as he licked the boy’s face.
“You bad boy. We were worried about you,” he said, his voice muffled by Eddie’s fur.
“This is John and Alice Maxwell,” Jackson said. Lydia looked up to see a couple follow him into the living room. They were well dressed, in expensive jeans and polo shirts, maybe in their early forties. “This is Lydia. She’s the one who spotted Eddie… I mean, Simba, in the bushes.”
“Thank you so much.” Alice walked forward, giving Lydia a smile. “I’m so grateful to you. We left Simba with a friend while we went to New York for a couple of weeks. She didn’t even tell us he was lost.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Said she didn’t want to ruin our break. Not that it would have mattered. We would’ve come home right away if we’d known.”
“We won’t be leaving Simba with her again,” the man – John – added grimly. “And of course we’ll pay you for the cost of having him.” He pulled a wad of bills from his wallet, and started sorting through them. “Damn dogs aren’t cheap.”
Jackson gave him a faint smile. “We don’t need your money. Simba was a pleasure to take care of.”
It was strange hearing his real name. Lydia wasn’t sure she liked it. Eddie didn’t look like a Simba at all. But he did wag his tail every time somebody said it, like he knew they were talking about him.
“He smells funny,” the boy said, wrinkling his nose as he looked up.
“He’s had a few baths,” Lydia told him. “He got sick from eating a jellyfish and we needed to clean him up. That’s probably what you can smell.”
“I heard you paid the vet bill,” John said, looking at Jackson. “At least let us reimburse you for that.”
Jackson shook his head. “It’s fine. He wouldn’t have needed the vet if he hadn’t eaten that jellyfish while we were walking him. That one definitely wasn’t your fault.”
“But he’s okay now, right?” the boy asked. “He’s not gonna get sick and die or anything?”
“The vet said he should be back to normal very soon,” Lydia reassured him. “He might need a lot of extra cuddles for the next few days, but I have a feeling you’ll be good at those.”
“Oh yeah.” The boy smiled, nodding rapidly. “I’m an ace at hugs.”
John glanced at his watch. “We should go. We got in late last night and haven’t unpacked yet.” He reached his hand out to shake Jackson’s. “Thanks again for taking care of him.”
Jackson nodded, his face impassive. “No problem. I’ve got his leash in the hallway. You can take that.” He glanced at Eddie’s bed, and his toys. “Maybe you’d like these too,” he said, pointing at them. “I won’t need them anymore.”
There was a catch in his voice that made Lydia’s heart ache.
“It’s okay,” Alice said, glancing at her husband. “We have way too much stuff for Simba as it is.”
As Jackson went to the hallway to grab the leash, Lydia leaned forward to stroke Eddie’s fur. “Be good,” she whispered. “We’re gonna miss you.”
Eddie licked her hand, his eyes wide and warm. He nuzzled against her as though he knew it was goodbye. She tickled him above his neckerchief, and his tongue lolled out.
“Come on, Simba,” Alice called out, shaking his leash. “Let’s go.”
The dog lazily climbed to his feet and jumped off the sofa, trotting obediently over to where she was waiting. Clipping the leash onto his collar, she beckoned to her son, who joined them.
Jackson’s face was pale. Lydia saw him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He scooted down to stroke Eddie with both hands, ruffling his fur as Eddie nudged him with his muzzle.
“Be good,” Jackson murmured to him. “And don’t run away again. We might not be there to save you next time.”
“He won’t be going anywhere for a while,” John promised. “Next time we go away, he comes with us.”
