softened the outer perimeter. A gate opened from that yard into another, larger area where obedience jumps were set up.
Greg opened the French door and we all stepped out onto the deck and watched Pip and Percy race around their grassy yard.
“Thanks so much, Janet. It was a relief knowing Pip was safe and well cared for.” Greg smiled, but there was a weight to his eyelids and a weary roundness to his shoulders.
“Yes,” piped up Giselle, “it’s good to have him home.”
Greg’s mouth tightened and he seemed to study his toes for a moment. Then he took Giselle by the elbow and steered her through the house and out the front door. I tagged along, unable to stop watching what looked like a bad accident in the making. Greg grabbed a suitcase-sized purse of brown and black plastic patchwork from atop an antique chest in the foyer, shoved it into Giselle’s hands, and guided her onto the front porch.
Giselle turned back toward the house and shrugged her sleeve back into place. “I thought I might stay and make you some dinner, hon.” Giselle took a baby step toward Greg and tilted her head coquettishly.
“No thanks.” He closed the door, flipped the deadbolt, and turned toward me. “Sorry.”
I sneezed into my elbow. “Nothing to be sorry about.” I sneezed again. Apparently I was allergic to Giselle.
Greg pulled a box of tissues from a drawer in the antique chest and held it toward me. “Come on in and have some iced tea.”
“I really can’t stay,” I protested, but I followed him to the kitchen.
He let the dogs in. Pip slurped up an enormous drink from a stainless steel bowl in one corner of the room, then settled himself, dripping happily, onto the gleaming white ceramic floor. Percy put his left front paw on my knee and pulled the right one up under his heart. What could I do but scratched his curly white chest? Greg put two glasses of iced tea on the table and settled into the chair across from me. “I do appreciate you taking care of Pip. Thanks.”
“Are you doing okay, Greg?
“Yeah, I guess. Trying. It just doesn’t seem possible that Abby’s gone, you know?”
“I know.” Though I’d never been widowed, I did know about loss and disappointment.
Greg put his hands on the table, turning his wedding band around and around with the thumb and finger of his right hand. “I miss her.”
That took me by surprise. How could he miss her if he was leaving her—had already left, in fact? But then, the human heart walks a winding path. It occurred to me that it could be all for show, although I didn’t get that vibe from him. But anything was possible.
“Give yourself some time.”
“Yes. Time. There’s always too much of the kind we don’t want, isn’t there? And not enough with the people we love.”
We sat in silence for a moment. I couldn’t think of anything useful to say, and knew in any case that words don’t hold the lonely terrors of loss at bay as well as simple human presence. After a few moments I asked, “So, are you staying here now?”
“Where else would I stay?”
Well, this is embarrassing, whispered Janet Demon . Let’s see you get out of this one . I couldn’t help wondering, not for the first time, where that little voice was before I stuck my foot in things.
26
I was trying to backpedal after implying to Greg that he shouldn’t be living in his own home. “I, uh, someone told me you and Abigail were separated.”
“Who said that?”
Ho boy . “I must have misunderstood. I’m so embarrassed!”
Greg followed my gaze to the two new brass door locks on the counter. “My project for the afternoon.”
“Lose your key?” My mouth was set on “blurt.”
“No.” He made it almost a question. “Oh, I see. You thought we were separated and figured she locked me out.” My cheeks warmed up a tad. “No, that’s fine. I can see where you’d think that. I actually did move out for a couple of weeks in March. We were having the floors
Greg opened the French door and we all stepped out onto the deck and watched Pip and Percy race around their grassy yard.
“Thanks so much, Janet. It was a relief knowing Pip was safe and well cared for.” Greg smiled, but there was a weight to his eyelids and a weary roundness to his shoulders.
“Yes,” piped up Giselle, “it’s good to have him home.”
Greg’s mouth tightened and he seemed to study his toes for a moment. Then he took Giselle by the elbow and steered her through the house and out the front door. I tagged along, unable to stop watching what looked like a bad accident in the making. Greg grabbed a suitcase-sized purse of brown and black plastic patchwork from atop an antique chest in the foyer, shoved it into Giselle’s hands, and guided her onto the front porch.
Giselle turned back toward the house and shrugged her sleeve back into place. “I thought I might stay and make you some dinner, hon.” Giselle took a baby step toward Greg and tilted her head coquettishly.
“No thanks.” He closed the door, flipped the deadbolt, and turned toward me. “Sorry.”
I sneezed into my elbow. “Nothing to be sorry about.” I sneezed again. Apparently I was allergic to Giselle.
Greg pulled a box of tissues from a drawer in the antique chest and held it toward me. “Come on in and have some iced tea.”
“I really can’t stay,” I protested, but I followed him to the kitchen.
He let the dogs in. Pip slurped up an enormous drink from a stainless steel bowl in one corner of the room, then settled himself, dripping happily, onto the gleaming white ceramic floor. Percy put his left front paw on my knee and pulled the right one up under his heart. What could I do but scratched his curly white chest? Greg put two glasses of iced tea on the table and settled into the chair across from me. “I do appreciate you taking care of Pip. Thanks.”
“Are you doing okay, Greg?
“Yeah, I guess. Trying. It just doesn’t seem possible that Abby’s gone, you know?”
“I know.” Though I’d never been widowed, I did know about loss and disappointment.
Greg put his hands on the table, turning his wedding band around and around with the thumb and finger of his right hand. “I miss her.”
That took me by surprise. How could he miss her if he was leaving her—had already left, in fact? But then, the human heart walks a winding path. It occurred to me that it could be all for show, although I didn’t get that vibe from him. But anything was possible.
“Give yourself some time.”
“Yes. Time. There’s always too much of the kind we don’t want, isn’t there? And not enough with the people we love.”
We sat in silence for a moment. I couldn’t think of anything useful to say, and knew in any case that words don’t hold the lonely terrors of loss at bay as well as simple human presence. After a few moments I asked, “So, are you staying here now?”
“Where else would I stay?”
Well, this is embarrassing, whispered Janet Demon . Let’s see you get out of this one . I couldn’t help wondering, not for the first time, where that little voice was before I stuck my foot in things.
26
I was trying to backpedal after implying to Greg that he shouldn’t be living in his own home. “I, uh, someone told me you and Abigail were separated.”
“Who said that?”
Ho boy . “I must have misunderstood. I’m so embarrassed!”
Greg followed my gaze to the two new brass door locks on the counter. “My project for the afternoon.”
“Lose your key?” My mouth was set on “blurt.”
“No.” He made it almost a question. “Oh, I see. You thought we were separated and figured she locked me out.” My cheeks warmed up a tad. “No, that’s fine. I can see where you’d think that. I actually did move out for a couple of weeks in March. We were having the floors
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