Feels Like Summertime(20)
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.”
“Gabby is currently winning every last dollar in Pop’s wallet.”
“I’m going to make her give it all back. I promise.”
“Are you kidding?” he says on a laugh. “This is the most fun Pop has had in a long time. Don’t you dare make her give it back.”
I shake my head. “She can’t just keep it. It’s not right.”
“It’s right. She deserves it. She should get a babysitting fee just for keeping the old man entertained. Since she’s started playing cards with him, I haven’t had to go to the bingo hall and get him out of bingo jail even once.”
“Bingo jail?”
“It’s where they put old men who get grab-ass-y. Bingo jail. I’ve had to bail Pop out more than once.”
“He always was a pistol.” I place the last dish in the cabinet. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I go to use the Wi-Fi?”
“Positive,” he says. “Go ahead. The door is open and the password is on the back of the modem on the kitchen counter.”
“Thanks, Jake.” Impulsively, I step onto my tiptoes, put my hand on his shoulder, and kiss him on the cheek.
He leans in to kiss me on the cheek too, but accidentally grazes the corner of my mouth. My heart begins to beat double time. “You should go,” he whispers, his cheek lingering close to mine.
“I should go,” I say. But I don’t. I stand there next to him, breathing the same air as Jake, enjoying the moment.
Suddenly, the door opens and we spring apart. “Hey, Jake,” Alex says, tossing the football up in the air and catching it. “Want to toss the football around?”
“Hell yeah,” Jake says, and he dries his hands on a towel. Then he opens his arms and Alex tosses him the ball. “Go ahead, Katie,” he tells me. “Take the golf cart.”
“Thanks, Jake.” I get my computer from the bedroom and take Mr. Jacobson’s golf cart to their house.
It’s a big house set on a hill, with a fantastic view of the water. I set up the Wi-Fi and open my computer, then check my email.
There are hundreds of emails, mostly from him. The one person I don’t want to talk to is the only one who seems to want to communicate with me. The emails go from pleading and sweet to venom and loathing. They’re threatening, then apologetic, then loaded with curse words and swearing. He swears he will find me. He swears he will love me. He swears he will never stop looking. He swears he will be a better person. He swears he will change. He swears he will get help.