Something Worth Saving

by Sandi Ward

You can see what’s happening to Kevin. You know what you have to do. Or something horrible might happen to you.

  He looks into my eyes. “I want this to be over. I can’t stand it anymore.”

  I bat at his face with my paw. Listen! You know what you must do, Charlie. It will only get worse if you don’t make it stop. Right now.

  Charlie turns to bury his face in his pillow. He punches his pillow, and I understand. He’s frustrated.

  But when he turns over onto his back, Charlie finally sighs in agreement.

  * * *

  Later that night, I find Gretel in the kitchen. Gretel is the hero once again. This time, when I nuzzle my face into her paw, she allows it and even turns to lick my ear.

  Hooray! Good job!

  While I wish I’d been the hero today, I can’t deny Gretel the glory in this case. When she looks at me, panting and satisfied, I give her a twitch of my nose.

  I know a brave dog when I see one.

  Chapter 34

  Chalk

  Charlie and I sit on the hot driveway. He is drawing with chalk. A bucket of chalk in many different colors sits at his feet. I watch him carefully sketch a picture while I doze on and off nearby.

  The days are longer now, and the late afternoon sun is still at a high point, although closer to the river than the top of the sky. The air is heavy and sweet. The soil around us has thawed completely, and budding leaves on the trees emit a fresh scent. Beneath it there is still, as always, the sour stench of the marsh.

  I breathe in the savory scent of meat being grilled. One of the neighbors must be cooking on a barbeque. It makes my stomach grumble. Yet I am not really hungry. The spring weather makes me want to run and hunt, but not eat. I am eager to shed my winter fat. Charlie is lean, as I can see when his T-shirt lifts off his torso as he reaches his arms to the sky to stretch.

  I am surprised at how warm it is. First my wet nose, then my whiskers, and finally the pads of my paws on the stones all converge at once into the thought: The sun is powerful today. When I sit still, I feel it soak into my fur and right down to my skin.

  While Charlie draws, I listen to the sound of the birds crying all around us. I watch squirrels leap from tree to tree, my ears tingling.

  Charlie and I are both startled when we hear someone come out the front door. We cannot see who it is, because we are sitting on the other side of Mark’s big truck, which is parked in the driveway. Charlie sits very still, as if hoping no one will notice him.

  I, on the other hand, have no such concerns. I listen to the humans talk all the time, and they think nothing of it. So I haul myself up onto my paws and walk over to peek out from behind a big tire. Mom is standing on the front step. Mark follows her out and then turns, waiting for a moment until he is sure they have privacy as he shuts the front door behind him.

  “Katie,” Mark finally blurts out, “Just listen to me.” He reaches forward to take her hand, but she retreats so he cannot touch her.

  I turn my head to glance at Charlie. He has slid over so he is leaning back against the tire. He does not move or even seem to breathe. I suppose he wants to hear their conversation.

  I don’t know how much we will be able to hear, sitting in the driveway on the other side of the truck. My ears prick up, alert, to try and catch the words.

  Rejected, Mark leans back against the railing and Mom stands just opposite him. He looks down at his feet, and from the movement of his eyes I know he is thinking about what to say. When he finally looks up at her, he does so with just his eyes, not lifting his head.

  “I’m sorry about the other day,” he finally says. “I didn’t mean to get mad. Jeremy threw me for a loop.”

  Mark fell in love with Mom without really knowing too much about our family. I can’t blame him for that. Love is unexpected sometimes. In this case, it seemingly came out of nowhere. And now the more Mark learns, the more he realizes how complicated things really are.

  Mom has her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and when she shakes her head, the ponytail shimmies. Her face is free of makeup, her skin scrubbed clean. I think she is at the point where she needs Mark to see her exactly as she really is, with no pretense.

  “I don’t want you to take him back,” he admits softly. “I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Mark.” She sighs. “It’s fine. Look. I’m not taking Jeremy back. I’m not.” She takes in a deep breath, and looks him over. “The problem is, we’re all getting very attached to you. And I’m afraid you’re going to wake up six months from now in a cold sweat, and wonder what you were thinking. You’re going to look back on all this like it was a strange dream. You need to go find the right person—”

  “Katie.” He leans toward Mom, but keeps his hands in his pockets. I think if his hands were free he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from reaching out and trying to touch her. “I don’t understand why you keep telling me to go out and find the right person.” He tips his head, and when the sun hits his face, he has to squint. “I already found her. You’re her.”

  “I believe you when you say you think that right now,” she says. “But you’ll change your mind in six months. You’re not thinking with your head.”

  “Is that what Jeremy is telling you? That I’ll leave in six months?”

  Mom just turns her head and does not answer.

  “Remember, he doesn’t know me, any more than I know him. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do. I want to stay here with you. Long-term.”

  Mom leans back against the railing, and taps her foot.

  He is stubborn!

  “So what’s your plan, then? To get a job working for Vincent?” Mom asks. “Does he need permanent help?”

  Mark rolls his eyes. “Um, let me think. No. That would be a definite no. Construction work is not in my future. I’m surprised I didn’t shoot my foot with a nail gun. I’m horrible at it, remember?”

  She nods. “Yes. I remember.” Her body relaxes and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Mark must sense, as I do, that she is letting her guard down for a moment, because he takes a step closer to her.

  “Katie. I don’t need an elaborate plan. I like baking. The schedule’s not bad. I could get up early to go to work, and then come home so we could be together in the afternoons. Or if we need the money, I could go back to law. I don’t think the world needs more lawyers, but . . .”

  Mom looks down at a ladybug that has landed on Mark’s forearm. She reaches out as if she might gently wipe it off of him, but pulls her hand back. I think that she knows that if she touches him, she will lose her resolve.

  “It would be worth it if you could help more people like Charlie.”

  “Yes.” He nods slowly. “If I could help people like him, it might make sense to me.”

  Mom glances down and shakes her head. “You’re still ignoring the obvious. You’re avoiding the point.” Her voice gets quieter. “One of these days you’re going to want your own family. I have three older kids, and my home needs peace right now. I can’t be . . .” She taps her foot, searching for the words. “I can’t be a way station between the time you start to recover from your grief and the moment you realize you’re ready to start your life over.”

  Mark frowns at this. I realize Mom is repeating language that he used with her when he was afraid she was going to take Dad back. There is a pause, and I listen to the coo of an owl, calling from the woods just behind me.

  “Katie. I don’t want to start a new family all over again. I don’t even know who that person is anymore, the person I used to be.”

  Mark crosses the front step and moves toward Mom so he can put his hands on her waist, and she allows it, putting her own hands lightly on top of his wrists and looking up at him. Her face is open, and I can see she’s willing to hear him out.

  “The person I used to be disappeared on the day that Hannah died. I was the one holding her, at the hospital, because Felicia couldn’t do it anymore. It was four in the morning. And she took her l
ast breath. It was—”

  But he cannot continue. Maybe because there are no words. His face clouds over, distressed with the memory of it.

  Goodness! The baby died in his arms. He has never talked about this in such detail before. He has talked about many things—but not this.

  I remember every time Mark cradled and spoke to me. I see this man is still missing someone, craving someone, needing someone to hold.

  He glances up at the sky, the blue expanse over the treetops, as if the answers he seeks are located just above him. Talking all in a rush, he explains: “When Hannah died, I was numb. I was empty. I had nothing left to give anyone. I didn’t want a family, or my house, or my job. I really thought my life was over, that God had just decided that I wasn’t meant to have those things. I didn’t want anything.” He drops his head to look at Mom. “Until now. It’s been a surprise to me to see that a year later, I’m still here. I’m still alive. Things are still happening around me, and I actually care. I care about you.”

  Mom’s grip on his hands tightens. “I’m sorry.”

  As I’ve said, Mom is always expressing how sorry she is for something or other. It’s funny, because the things that happen are never her fault.

  “You’re sorry to hear that I fell apart? That I quit my life?” He tries to smile, and seems exhausted. “Yeah, that’s exactly how everyone felt. Including my friends. And my boss. And Felicia’s parents. And my own parents. They’re all still angry at me, for refusing to try again. But I didn’t want another baby, and Felicia didn’t either. Everyone thought we were running away. And we were. But I’m starting to think . . . Maybe starting over was the only thing I could do at the time.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” Mom’s nose twitches as if it itches, but she doesn’t let go of Mark’s hands to scratch it.

  Mark tips his head to one side. “I’m not going to give up on us. Felicia and I loved each other. But I was a disappointment to her. I’m not going to be a disappointment to you too.” He squeezes Mom’s waist. “Who I am now is a lot different from who I was then. I want different things now. I just want to live my life. With you. Don’t look so sad.”

  Mom frowns. She cannot stop looking so sad. That is just something she cannot do.

  I glance back at Charlie, but he doesn’t see me. He is staring down at the pavement, straining to listen.

  Mom raises an eyebrow, and takes in a deep breath as if she’s been holding her breath this whole time. She exhales slowly.

  “So.” Mom straightens up. “In a year, when you come crawling to me to say you made a terrible mistake, and you have to break up with me, and you’re really sorry about it, do I then get to say I told you so? Because I hate being right all the time. I absolutely hate it.”

  “Not an option,” he repeats, glancing down at her mouth, and then back up into her eyes. He has big brown eyes that lock on hers. He is so unlike Dad, who evades, and looks away, and closes himself off.

  I can see this conversation is almost over.

  “You also have to understand I have three kids,” she goes on, desperately, voice shaking with disbelief, “They’re part of the package too. So we’d have to take things slow. You’d have to show me that you care about them too.”

  “Are you kidding?” His eyes water up, and he tips his head quizzically. “Are you kidding me right now? I love kids. I haven’t really had a chance to fully develop my dad skills yet, but . . .” He wrinkles his nose at her, and laughs. “I’m sure I have some wisdom to impart, of some kind. Right? Hopefully.”

  Mom throws her hands up in the air, and the relief on her face shows in the way her cheeks flush pink. “I give up. I seriously give up.”

  “Good.” He swiftly moves to close the inches between them, until his body brushes up against hers and he can put his arms around her. “It’s about time.”

  Resting her head on his shoulder, Mom sighs. She looks peaceful.

  “Okay,” she says. “I love it when you stay over. You’re so warm.” She squeezes him tight. “My feet get so cold at night. And Gretel refuses to come sleep on my bed.”

  What?

  Gretel? Are they talking now about Gretel?

  I’m startled, and it makes me sneeze. I shake my head. What about me? I sleep with Mom. She doesn’t need Mark to warm her up. Honestly.

  “Gretel is a bad dog,” Mark says, but I can tell he’s joking. “What kind of dog refuses to keep her master warm at night?”

  Oh! First of all, Mom is not Gretel’s master.

  Second of all, Mark just called Gretel a bad dog. If only he knew!

  Kevin told the adults that he cut his arm with his ax while chopping firewood with Phil in the woods. Mom asked to see the cut under the bandage, but Kevin wouldn’t let her look at it. He told Mom that Victoria already did a good job cleaning it, under his expert instruction, and he didn’t want to undo her fine work.

  “You’re right,” Mom murmurs. “She’s terrible, isn’t she? Good thing I have you.”

  Oh, Mom! I realize she is kidding, but who speaks this way about Gretel? Good thing Gretel is not here to hear this.

  Mark nuzzles his nose in Mom’s hair and closes his eyes. I suppose I cannot deny he is good at warming Mom up.

  I turn back to Charlie. At this point he has his hand over his mouth, as if he wants to call out but is stopping himself. He looks at me. When I walk to him and smash my face into his elbow, he scoops me up with two hands and presses me to his chest. I can tell he’s excited. He must be happy that Mom and Mark are no longer fighting.

  But it’s time for action. It’s time to let Mom know that we’re here.

  Charlie, now’s the time to talk about Kevin. I hop up and smash my face into his jawbone. Charlie, you must tell them now while we have a quiet moment.

  When he doesn’t move, I scramble and scrape my way out of Charlie’s arms. With a hop, I jump up to his bucket of chalk, place my front paws on the edge and stick my nose in. When I pull, my weight brings the whole bucket onto its side with a crash!

  “What was that?” I hear Mom ask, turning to look.

  Charlie freezes, his eyes wild with shock and panic. I’m sure he thinks I did that by accident. He would be angry if he knew it was on purpose. I’m sorry to expose him, but perhaps we shouldn’t have been eavesdropping in the first place. Sometimes you need to know when to quit.

  I catch Charlie’s eye, and try to send him a shot of confidence. I tip my head and flick my tail.

  Charlie! It’s time to talk. No creature deserves to be hurt, Charlie, and I’m worried about Kevin. I’m worried that the next time you’ll end up with a broken leg like I did. The damage to my leg can never be fixed, Charlie, and I don’t want that to happen to you. Let’s talk to them now.

  Charlie looks at me and blinks. He stands up and dusts himself off with both hands. With a short nod, he moves forward.

  “Hey, Charlie,” Mark says when we walk out from behind the truck. He sounds amused.

  “Oh. Hi.”

  “Charlie . . .” Mom puts her hands on her hips. “Have you been there this whole time? Have you been listening to our conversation?”

  “Um. Well, no. I mean, I heard voices, but I wasn’t really listening. I’ve been drawing. With chalk.”

  Charlie gestures down toward the driveway. Mom and Mark cannot possibly see what he’s been drawing from where they’re standing on the front step. But from where I’m sitting, I can see Charlie has drawn stars and moons, and hearts with letters in the middle.

  Mom sighs. “Charlie . . .”

  Charlie walks around in front of the truck and crosses the small front yard to stand at the bottom of the steps. I join him and sit at his feet. “I want to tell you guys something,” he says quickly, perhaps trying to get it out before he changes his mind. I hope Mom’s conversation with Mark has increased his confidence in the future. Charlie has gained a friend in Mark. He has someone on his side, someone who pays attention to what he says.

&n
bsp; “Yes?” Mom asks slowly, curious.

  “It’s Kevin.” Charlie takes in a shaky breath, and shrugs. When Mom and Mark just stare at him, not understanding, he lets his hands dangle by his sides as he shakes them out. “That’s it. That’s all. It isn’t anyone in school. Or on the bus. So no one needs to call the school. It’s Kevin. When we go to Dad’s place on the weekends. He gets mad when I take up all of Dad’s time. Kevin drinks Dad’s beer and he gets jealous, you know? Dad’s always worried about me, that’s all. He spends more time with me than he does with Kevin. And I’m getting hurt. I’m getting HURT.”

  Mom clearly has no idea what Charlie is talking about, or she is taking a minute to process what he is saying, because she just stares at him with a blank look on her face. But when Mark nods solemnly, and says in a low voice, “Thank you for telling us, Charlie,” it suddenly hits her.

  And the look on her face is one I hope to never see again.

  Chapter 35

  Going to Camp

  The next day, Dad comes over. He and Mom sit on the back deck for a long time, talking. It is the longest conversation they’ve had in ages. When I walk by the glass door, I see Dad with his head in his hands, and it doesn’t look good.

  When Mom sticks her head in the door and yells for the boys to come down, Charlie and I are lying on his bed. Charlie gets up and carries me downstairs with him. I understand. He needs me for support.

  Charlie walks out onto the back deck without bothering to put his shoes on. The weather has warmed up, and he has adopted Dad’s habit of walking in bare feet around the house.

  Kevin comes outside next, and he sits next to his mom. His face is pale, and he stares down at the wooden floor of the deck.

  Instead of sitting in one of the chairs at the table like everyone else, Charlie sits a little farther away in a comfy lounge chair and plops me on his lap. We sink down into the cushion. Charlie rakes his fingers through my fur. I can sense that he’s nervous.

  Dad leans back in his chair and studies Charlie. “Your mom and I have been talking.” His voice is hoarse and raspy, as if he’s been up all night. “We’ve decided that maybe the two of you need a break from each other.” Dad rests his hands on the arms of his chair and speaks calmly, but with authority. “And I think my apartment over in Ipswich isn’t working out. I can’t live by myself right now. I’ve been . . .” He closes his eyes a moment. Then opens them. “I’m drinking too much and I’m going to check myself into a special program as soon as possible.” He says this part quickly, speeding through it.