Michelle Major - Still The One

“Heard about your dog?” Vera asked, her eyes concerned.

“Nothing yet.”

“Ethan is best. He’ll do good.”

Lainey nodded. She thought about the care Ethan had given Pita and the tenderness he’d shown to her. A slow ache built in her heart. “I stopped by the shelter office after I left the clinic.” She needed to regain control.

“You get the box?”

Lainey pointed to a large plastic storage tub in the corner of the room. “Rest for a bit, Mom. Then we’ll go through it.”

Julia patted Vera’s leg. “I need to go.”

Vera’s left hand clamped around Julia’s wrist. “You stay.”

Her tone brooked no argument, although Julia gave it her best shot.

“I need to check in with Val, see if I can pick up some hours if my doctor approves.”

Vera’s hold didn’t loosen. “Later.”

“Fine.” Vera let go of Julia’s hand as she stood. “I need to pee first. It feels like this kid has his heel shoved against my bladder.”

Lainey blew out a short breath as Julia closed the bathroom door. She felt her mother’s eyes on her. “This doesn’t change anything.”

“You good girl,” Vera said, reaching out to her.

Lainey pushed up from the bed. “I don’t know what you expect, but me being here isn’t going to make the past go away. I can do my penance this summer, but I can’t change what happened. What I did.” She couldn’t change who she was, how the tragedy had changed her. Forever.

“Good girl,” Vera repeated.

Her mother used the same tone Lainey did with Pita. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “We’ll go through the plans while you rest,” she said, but her mother’s eyes had already slipped closed.

Lainey smoothed the quilt again and turned for the big box in the corner.

Work on the adoption event kept Lainey occupied the rest of the day. Julia had stayed at the hospital until lunchtime, the two sisters careful not to let the topic stray from animals needing a home.

The call came in around four o’clock. Her hands shook as she stared at the clinic’s number on her cell phone.

“Answer it,” her mother said.

She brought the phone to her ear, expecting Ethan’s voice.

“Lainey?” Stephanie Rand said. “She’s okay.”

A strangled sob escaped her lips. “Oh, thank God.”

Steph continued, “I don’t think you want your undies back, but at least they’re out.”

“Can I come get her?” Lainey spoke around the lump of tears knotting at the back of her throat.

“We’d like to keep her overnight, just to make sure she’s back to normal. You can pick her up first thing in the morning.”

Lainey made a squeaky sound she hoped passed for a ‘yes’ and hung up.

She looked at her mother. The deep understanding in Vera’s gaze almost sent her over the edge.

“Underpants,” she mumbled, her voice wobbly. “How dumb.” Stupid to make everything so personal.

“Go home.”

“I’m fine.”

“Home,” her mother said again, pointing at the door.

Lainey knew she should argue, insist on staying, but fatigue settled over her. She leaned in and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll be back in the morning.” She traced the corner of Vera’s lopsided mouth.

“Bring polish.”

“What?”

Vera wiggled her fingers in the air. “Upstairs bathroom, bottom drawer. Pink polish, ‘Touch of Love.’”

Despite her jumbled emotions, Lainey smiled. “We’ll have a mini spa day.”

Vera fingered Lainey’s hair. “Julia can cut for you.”

“I like my hair, Mom.” She covered her mother’s hand with hers and pulled it away, straightening from the bed.

“Too long. Julia helps.”

Her back stiffened. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said quickly and turned for the door. Vera never approved of her hair, her clothes, her makeup—or lack thereof.

Why should it be different now?

Her mother had only one definition of beautiful: blond hair, blue-eyed with a Barbie’s unrealistic measurements. Vera had epitomized the look in her day, and Julia was the spitting image of their mother.

Lainey was a chip off the Eastern European block of her father’s family with her unruly hair and olive skin. At least she’d gotten her mother’s button nose, although it looked out of place set between her almond-shaped eyes and too-wide mouth.

She eyed the hospital exit sign like it was the finish line of the Boston Marathon. When the automatic doors slid open, a wave of aggressively humid air hit her square in the face and she slowed. Everything moved at a snail’s pace during a Brevia summer.

“No,” she told herself as she unlocked the Land Cruiser and slid behind the steering wheel. She took a few deep breaths and pulled out of the parking lot, determined to hold herself in check.

The heat did not own her.

This town would not bully her.

Her mother could not control her any more.

She forced herself on a four-mile run when she got back to the house. Better to sweat out her emotions than indulge in another pint of Chubby Hubby.

After a long, cool shower, she slipped into a pair of cotton shorts and a black tank top. She’d spent the previous night awake with Pita, so she now began unpacking her clothes into the same dresser that had once held sets of Garanimals outfits. The shadow of the bed’s ruffled canopy fell over her like a weight.

The walls seemed to hum with long-ago conversations and emotions. She couldn’t watch television without imagining her father asleep in his faded leather recliner and didn’t want to soak in the tub that held the smell of her mother’s perfume.

She finally got in her car and drove until she saw the lights of Piggly Wiggly. She didn’t need groceries but flipped through magazines, studying the layouts and lighting of the photos, until she felt sleepy.

She bought Cosmopolitan, In Style and a box of dog biscuits. As she put the bag into the cargo area, something cold and wet nudged her thigh. She spun around.

“Pita.” Lainey’s heart thudded against her rib cage. She dropped to her knees. “Oh, sweetie. How are you? How did you get here?”

Glancing up, she had a brief glimpse of a dark head before Pita’s front paws slammed into her chest. She went over backward in a tangle of arms, legs and dog limbs.

“Easy, girl.” Ethan’s deep voice cut through the quiet. He grabbed Pita’s collar and hauled the dog off her.

Lainey lay flat on her back, legs splayed across the asphalt. Ethan loomed over her, fingers curled around the dog’s collar. Under the bright parking lot light, one corner of his mouth kicked up and his eyes danced, sending sparks flying in their deep centers.

“I guess she’s better,” Lainey managed to say, wheezing a little as she tried to gather her wits. At least she had the good sense to close her legs.

“Yep,” was his only answer.

“How did you find me?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d want to wait until morning, so I was driving out to Vera’s when I saw your car. Not a lot of fancy SUVs in Brevia.”

She lifted a hand into the air. “You want to help me up?”

He cocked his head to one side. “I kind of like you down there. I imagine you groveling for forgiveness at my feet.”

“Fine,” she mumbled and looked away. She started to drop her arm, but he released his hold on the dog and grabbed her wrist. He hauled her to her feet so fast she stumbled forward into him. It was like falling against the side of a mountain.

She pushed out her breath, not wanting to inhale his scent, and tried to step away. He held her close.

“I fixed your dog,” he said, his voice rough against her ear. “I guess you owe me an apology and a thank you. How do you want to settle your debt?”