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“Go ahead,” I say with an encouraging nod. “Shall we do it together?”
When Sophie nods, I take her hand and let Diva sniff it. Sophie jerks away again when the dog licks her fingers.
“That’s her way of giving you a kiss,” I say.
A radiant smile splits the little girl’s face, making my chest ache with tenderness.
“She kissed me, Sabella,” Sophie says in a soft voice.
I exchange a look with Mrs. Paoli. “Yes, she did, sweetheart.”
“She likes you,” Mrs. Paoli says.
“You see?” Sophie whispers to the doll. “I told you not to be scared.”
Mrs. Paoli hands me the leash before setting Diva on the floor. “Are you walking Diva with Sabella today?”
“Yes,” Sophie says, standing taller. “Can I hold the leash, Sabella?”
“Only if Mrs. Paoli agrees,” I say. “And you first have to practice in a clear area where there’s no traffic.”
“Can I, Mrs. Paoli?” Sophie asks. “Please?”
“I trust you, my dear,” Mrs. Paoli says to me. “You’ll be the judge.”
“We’ll walk to the river today. We can do a practice run where the path is quiet.”
“Yay,” Sophie says, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Crouching down, she tells the dog, “I’ll be really good, Diva. Don’t you worry.”
Mrs. Paoli casts a glance at the too-big sneakers on the child’s feet. “Just be careful not to trip.”
As Sophie is engrossed in smoothing a hand over Diva’s back, I whisper, “I’m hoping to get her some clothes in her size soon.”
Mrs. Paoli winks with understanding.
While I attach the leash to Diva’s collar, Mrs. Paoli disappears into the house and returns a moment later with a zip lock bag filled with cookies.
“Here you go, Sophie.” She gives her the bag. “You may need to recharge your energy during the walk.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Paoli,” Sophie says, suddenly shy.
“It’s a pleasure, my dear.” Mrs. Paoli waves us off. “See you later.”
Sophie skips out ahead of me, the bag of cookies dangling in one hand and Beatrice in the other. She hums to herself as we make our way to the river. On the path that runs next to the water, I take Beatrice and the cookies so that both her hands are free. When I hand her the leash, her small face is scrunched up with concentration.
“Not in the mud, Diva,” she cries out as the dog almost trots through a puddle of water.
Sophie takes great care to steer her around it, clearly taking her task very seriously.
When we return Diva, she tells Mrs. Paoli proudly how she didn’t get the dog’s legs dirty. At Mrs. Paoli’s praise, Sophie’s face glows.
Mr. Martin is less surprised when I knock on his door with a little girl in tow.
“She yours?” he asks, motioning at her with his pipe.
“She’s my husband’s niece,” I say.
“Ah. Well, I’ll let you get on with it then. I’m taking the boat out, so I won’t be under your feet.”
