by Traci Hall
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Ask Uncle Jackson.”
“That well?” Emma’s auburn brows drew together.
Matthew opened the gate and closed it, shutting Jackson out. Matty burrowed his head in Romeo’s fur, his back to Jackson.
Bandit barked at Jackson and wagged his tail.
Jackson squeezed the bridge of his nose and forced a smile.
“Morning, Emma. Matthew, don’t be rude.”
“Morning, Emma,” Matthew said. He gave his uncle the stink-eye and continued petting Romeo.
Jackson gritted his teeth. “Kids.”
She lifted her mug to her mouth, partially hiding a smile. “Hmm.” Emma drank and lowered her cup, no doubt noticing his bloodshot eyes and the fact he hadn’t shaved. “You look terrible, Jackson.”
He held up his hand. “I know. You don’t have to kick a guy when he’s down.”
“Sleeping?” She invoked concern with that one question.
“Yep.”
“Liar.” His nephew countered in a cool tone, “I know you aren’t. I saw the Red Bull cans in the recycle bin.”
Crap. “I see the doctor on Monday. Four days.”
Emma nodded, looking from Matthew to Jackson. “Good.” Bandit joined Emma, leaning against her long leg to stare at Jackson.
He was tired enough that he imagined resting his head under the shade of the cherry tree and Bandit chasing off the demons. It sounded awesome.
And delusional.
“I have to go.”
Matthew didn’t move from where he hugged Romeo.
Jackson looked at Emma, who gave a sympathetic shrug. “I’ll be back at four.”
“We’re staying here today. We’ve got nails to trim and kennels to clean.”
Jackson left, his heart heavy. His eyes heavier.
He stopped and picked up a liter of soda before going to the shop to work.
…
Matthew straightened as soon as the truck disappeared down the drive. “I am so mad, Emma. He’s totally lying and hiding that he’s not sleeping. I can’t wait to tell that doctor that I think he’s stupid. I’m going to, too.”
Emma stepped back. “Whoa. Let’s take this one piece at a time.” This was the first she’d ever seen Matthew angry rather than sad or scared.
“Sorry.” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin.
“Don’t be sorry about how you feel.” She motioned for him to join her in walking to the kennels. “We can clean and talk. It helps to direct the negative out of your body into something positive.”
“I’m so mad I could clean the whole garage!” He shoved his hands into his pockets, and his sneakers scuffed the grass as they neared the building.
“I might take you up on that,” she said. Anger was always better out than in. “Come on.” Emma showed him how to take apart the kennels while she got the buckets of sudsy water prepared.
“Now, you don’t agree with Jackson’s doctor?” Because she didn’t like Leonard Smith, either, she was determined to be fair. He practiced high-rise, old-school doctoring while she preferred a more open approach to a problem, and healing.
“No.” Matthew, calmer now, said, “He told Uncle Jackson he didn’t need a dog. It was like a teddy bear for grown-ups.”
“A teddy bear?” She silently agreed with Matthew—having arrived at that opinion herself during Dr. Smith’s lectures. He came off very arrogant as he relayed just the facts he wanted to, as if there was no room for emotion.
Matthew took a scrubber to the individual metal panels. “I mean, Uncle Jackson was so close to getting Bandit and bringing him home.” He looked at Emma and scowled. “That would’ve helped, I know it. Instead, I hear him in his bedroom, walking around in the dark and bumping into furniture.” Taking a deep breath, Matthew added, “Dr. Smith told him to write about his nightmares.” He sat back on the heels of his sneakers. “How can that help? It just makes him angry.”
Emma lifted a panel. “There’s a practice of looking at what is causing the bad dreams and facing it during the day. But maybe your uncle isn’t ready for that yet. Dr. Smith isn’t wrong, Matthew.” It hurt to say that, but it was the truth. “There are many ways to solve a problem. Not all are going to fit everybody the same way.”
“Uncle Jackson needs a dog, that’s all. Bandit.” He dismantled another kennel and started washing it down.
She rinsed off the suds with water from the hose and let the metal dry in the summer sun. Emma thought of all that Jackson was willing to put on the line to get healthy—his career in the military, his relationship with Matty. She knew from personal experience that facing your demons hurt, and a lot of people never took the risk. “I understand why you are angry. But I think your uncle is being very brave, too.”
“Brave? He’s not supposed to have coffee. Or Red Bull.” Matthew dropped the scrubber and looked away. Romeo joined him, nudging Matthew’s arm so it went around Romeo’s neck.
Crying.
Ah, no. Tears filled her own eyes, and she joined them on the grass, sitting cross-legged. She touched his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades. “You must be really worried.”
“I am.” He petted Romeo’s back, his face in the dog’s thick neck. “And you know what double-sucks?” Sniffling, he lifted his chin.
“What?” She braced herself.
“I heard Uncle Jackson talking to Aunt Bonnie about Mom. She’s not getting better. Aunt Bonnie was crying.”
Emma closed her eyes as she accepted his anguish, calming him through her touch on his back.
“What if she dies?” His lower lip quivered, and Romeo gave his cheek a lick with a long pink tongue. “I need my mom. She has to come home.”
How to help without joining him in tears? Acknowledge the facts, and deal with them.
“Right now, the doctors are making sure that your mom has a chance to heal. I understand that it is very scary. It isn’t that the doctors are hiding things from you, Matthew. I don’t think they have answers. It is better to wait and give your mom time.”
His chin quavered. “They won’t let me bring her flowers, and I know she likes them. Or hold her hand. I promised to be so careful…”
“Your mom loves you, don’t forget that.” Emma got to her feet, before she completely lost her composure. “Come on. We’ve got a few more crates to do. Then I say we go inside and have some ice cream. I think we have chocolate.”
Matthew looked around, his expression confused as his tears dried. “Where’s Lulu? And Princess?”
“They’ve been placed in homes.” She brushed the grass off the bottom of her shorts.
“They’re gone?”
She nodded, tugging him up to stand next to her, sneaking in a side hug. “Yes. That’s our job, to get the animals ready for good homes where they can offer a special brand of comfort. A little more complicated than a teddy bear.”
Emotions rippled across his young face. Sadness, grief, understanding. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
Loss. “They knew you cared.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She put her hand over his heart. “Do you know that Romeo cares about you?”
He nodded.
“The other dogs feel that, too. Maybe not as much as Romeo—you’re his favorite, I think, but it’s like that.”
He stared at the ground.
How to cheer him up? The world was sometimes very heavy, but she was showing him how to cope. The dogs, keeping busy, and looking at a problem head on helped. Being useful.
“Matthew, would you like to help me run the Heart to Heart Dog Kennel booth during the July fourth festival downtown? During the day, you’ll be free to wander around and be with your uncle for the fireworks at night.”
“Yes!” He swiped the shaggy brown bangs off his forehead. “I’ll ask. What do I need to do?”
She’d discovered that helping others brought light to the shadows inside. Maybe it would for Matty, too.
“Sit with me. Walk the dogs, show them off. Try to match them with people who are looking for an Emotional Support Therapy Dog. They trust you and will listen to you, so I feel very comfortable having you there. You’ve been a huge help to me.”
“Thanks, Emma. I’ll do a good job.”
“I know that.” She snuck in another quick side hug and finished rinsing the crates.
After double scoops of chocolate chip ice cream, Emma made grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, with diced apples and cabbage in a slightly sweet coleslaw.
“When is Aunt Pepita coming home?”
Emma hid a smile, amazed at how well Matthew fit in her day-to-day. Had Pepita felt the same, when she’d had Emma dumped on her doorstep? “She’s on a two-day trip. Last I heard, she’s up a hundred bucks.”
“I bet I could play.” Matthew rested his elbows on the kitchen table, the dogs arrayed around his feet just in case something dropped.
“Ask her to teach you blackjack when she comes back; it’s fun. We played with jellybeans instead of money. Helped me with math.”
It got hot later in the afternoon, so she set up the sprinklers and they all ran through them on the grass. Bandit liked to gulp the water as it spurted close from the base, while Sweetie stayed back and barked at the rainbow colors in the mist.
Emma discreetly checked her watch and realized that it was almost five. No word from Jackson about being late.
She sent him a text.
No answer.
Worry nagged at her like a sore tooth, and she told Matthew to keep playing as she ran inside and called Mitch at the auto shop.
Nothing.
Concern over his obvious exhaustion overcame her sense of professional boundaries. She liked him, dang it. Now she tossed a sundress on, slipped her feet into flip-flops, and grabbed her purse and the keys to her SUV. “Hey, Matthew? Let’s go to your house and see if your uncle wants Fabio’s pizza.”
Matthew gave a fist pump in the air, his anger forgotten. “Pizza!”
Bandit waited by the fence, as if determined to go with them. She turned off the sprinklers and got the dogs in the kennel. She fed them half a cup of dry kibble for a quick dinner, promising extra treats later.
She didn’t question bringing Bandit with her—he stayed on her heels.
Matthew, his hair damp, a towel around his wet shorts, climbed into the SUV. “I’m starving. Uncle Jackson says Mom might need to get a bigger house—you know, ’cause I’m growing so fast.”
Emma smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. She drove the five minutes to their house. The blue truck was there, next to the motorcycle and a shiny, new basketball hoop.
“We’ve been shootin’ hoops,” Matty informed her, then noticed the time on the clock of the SUV. “Five thirty. Why didn’t he come and get me?” He frowned.
She parked, and before she could come up with a reason for him to wait for her and to let her go in first, Matthew was out of the passenger side door, with Bandit at his side.
Oh, no.
She got out, slammed her door, and ran in after them.
“Uncle Jackson!” Matthew shouted.
Emma ran up the steps of the porch and into the house. Jackson was sprawled on a large blue sectional couch, his feet out and his hand over his head. He’d somehow knocked the black and white lamp over, breaking the glass that crunched beneath Emma’s thin flip-flops. Bandit had no protection, but he made his way to Jackson and licked his face.
Matthew was barefoot, and she quickly set him away from the glass. “Careful. The lamp is broken.”
Jackson, eyes squeezed shut, pushed at Bandit. “Get back, Remi! Get down!”
Who was Remi?
She slipped the training clicker out of her front pocket and clicked it as Bandit licked Jackson’s cheek, then nudged his shoulder to wake him up.
“Good dog,” she said. Wake him up.
Jackson kicked his foot to the side, barely missing Matthew.
Matthew got out of the way, his stance angry, scared, and determined, and Emma glimpsed how he’d look when grown. “Wake up!”
Muttering unintelligible words in a harsh tone, Jackson turned to his side, and then onto his back again, his arm flung wide.
Bandit barked loudly next to Jackson’s ear. Once. Twice. Woof. Jackson sat up, eyes open but unfocused. “What? What’s going on?”
His breaths came fast. She sat on the edge of the couch, holding his wrist, letting him know that he was not alone. Matty darted out of sight.
“You’re okay,” she said in calm tones. “In your house. On your couch.”
“What are you doing here?” Jackson’s bristled jaw grew tight as he eyed her, then looked around for Matthew. His hand rested on Bandit.
“We came to check on you.” It was good that they’d come, though she knew Jackson didn’t agree. Her heart raced in fear, in empathy.
“You didn’t pick me up.” Matthew’s eyes were round and scared as he held a glass of water he’d gotten from the kitchen out to his uncle.
“What time is it?” Jackson scuffed the side of his head with the palm of his hand before accepting the glass.
“Five thirty,” she answered in a steady voice.
“I didn’t mean to sleep.” Jackson stared into the clear liquid, a slight tremor in his hand making the water shake. “I had to rest for a bit.” His voice deepened with layers of guilt. “Set the alarm for an hour. Overslept. Sorry.”
“You can’t deprive your body.” Emma leaned closer to him, keeping her tone gentle, though she wanted to yell and shake him to get his attention. He didn’t have to suffer like this.
Bandit waited, sitting on his haunches by Jackson’s feet, watching each move Jackson made as he tilted his head back and drank until the glass was empty.
Jackson started to get up, but Emma held out her hand. “Careful, broken ceramic. You must have kicked over the lamp,” she said. “When you were dreaming.”
Jackson looked at the black side table where the lamp had once resided.
“Busted,” she said in a soft voice, touching his leg. “Here, I’ll take the glass. Want more?”
Jackson shook his head. “No thanks.”
Emma set the glass down by her feet, focusing on the situation, on Jackson.
Bandit whined and set his head on Jackson’s knee. Jackson absently put his hand in the dog’s ruff.
Good boy, Bandit, she thought. Good boy.
After a few minutes, the color returned to Jackson’s tanned face, and his breaths evened. Matthew perched on the opposite side of the L-shaped couch and watched his uncle as intently as Bandit.
“I think we should implement Plan B.”
“What’s that?” Jackson’s scowl didn’t scare her any as she sensed his underlying tumult.
“Plan Bandit.” She jerked her chin at the dog and Jackson’s hold on Bandit’s neck. “He’ll work better than any teddy bear, I guarantee it. What do you have to lose?”
“I don’t know.” He planted his feet on the floor, looking around the living room as if for hidden answers.
“Uncle Jackson, you have to,” Matthew shouted.
Jackson raised his palm against the words. “I go to the doc on Monday.”
“So, try this until then,” Emma said. “It doesn’t negate the work you are doing with Dr. Smith. Just gives you a buffer. Your body fights sleep because your mind is bringing up awful memories when you have no control. Therefore, it seems like you should fight sleeping and stay in control. But you can’t.” She gestured to the white shards littering the living room. “As you can see.”
She clasped his wrist, the muscle jumping beneath her fingers. Please, Jackson, accept the help.
Jackson looked down at where she held him, and then at her, confusion radiating from every pore.
“Bandit can wake you up before the dreams get to this point,” Emma said. “You are so exhausted you can’t rouse yourself from them.”
Jackson exhaled and closed hi
s eyes, his hand still in Bandit’s ruff. “We can’t keep a dog.”
Matthew started to cry, burying his face in his knees. “If Mom were here she would understand about Bandit.”
“We can try,” Jackson said gruffly. “I know this is a scary time for you. I don’t want you to be afraid.”
Matty lifted his face and wiped his eyes. “Promise?”
Jackson looked at Emma. “I’ll try the dog.” He scrubbed at his cheek. “But can he do something different than lick my face, Em?”
Her heart surged with hope and affection. She loved it when he called her Em, as if they were on the same team rather than on opposite sides.
“Sure. We can teach him to nudge you with his nose. Or bark in your ear. Jackson, we can take this as slow as you need to go. For right now, why don’t you guys just get used to having a dog in the house?”
Matty stared at Jackson, as if afraid to believe he’d actually do it.
“Okay.” He nodded again.
Matthew leaped across the couch, throwing his arms around Jackson’s neck. “Thanks, Uncle Jackson. I will take good care of Bandit, and you.”
“You already do.” He pulled back and said, “I need to take care of you.”
Emma blinked away tears of gratitude. “Jackson, you won’t have to do it alone.”
He reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers to send a thrill through her, a longing for something that she knew she couldn’t have. A partner. A family. Not with this man, anyway. Too bad nobody else had ever come close.
Chapter Fifteen
Jackson got Matty set up with Scooby-Doo on television, one arm looped around Bandit’s neck, the other hand free to dig into the popcorn bowl. One piece for Matthew, one for Bandit.
“I have to make a few phone calls,” he said. “You okay?”
Matthew nodded. Bandit gave a woof before turning his attention back to the popcorn. “Are you going to call Emma? Tell her that I didn’t tell the doctor that he was stupid, okay?”
“What?” Jackson asked with surprise.
“She’ll know.” His nephew went back to watching the cartoon that never seemed to go out of style.
Jackson took the phone into his bedroom but then decided to see if there was a breeze on the small wooden deck at the back of the house. He opened the slider and figured it was cool enough—his bedroom was not a place where he liked to hang out these days. He sat at the round bistro table with three matching chairs and dialed Emma’s number.
