Chestnut

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  Meg trailed off. Her mom was frowning, and her dad was looking grimly at Chestnut. Meg didn’t know what that meant, so she swallowed hard and filled the tense silence with more words. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll even pay for his food and stuff. I can use the money from the ornaments to take care of him, as long as we have enough to pay the staff first.”

  Suddenly, all of Meg’s worry and fear and love for her family and for Chestnut came bursting to the surface.

  “I just . . . I wanted to help,” she said, her voice breaking. “I wanted to help you and the staff and the farm and Chestnut, and I wanted everyone to see that I could.” As she told the truth, she began to feel lighter, like a weight was beginning to lift.

  “I don’t understand,” her mom said, shaking her head. “How have you been keeping a dog?”

  The disappointment on her mother’s face was like a punch to Meg’s gut, but she forced herself to look her mom in the eye. “He’s been staying in the old shed, over in the western field,” she said. Her mouth was dry, and a huge lump had formed in her throat. “I’ve been working with Colton to train him and I really think he could be a great farm dog. He’s friendly and smart and he can track just about anything. He even tracked me to Gigi’s house. He tracked me here, too.” Meg looked at her parents. “Please, Mom, Dad. I’ll never ask for anything else, ever again.”

  Her mom’s face crumpled and she buried her face in her hands. Her dad’s normally twinkling eyes were full of anger and heartbreak. “Oh, Megs,” he said. “We knew that you wanted a dog, but this . . . this is something else entirely.”

  Her mom looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “It isn’t just that you kept a dog when you knew it was against our wishes. And it isn’t even that you kept a dog that wasn’t rightfully yours, which was wrong, Meg.”

  The tone of her mom’s voice made Meg feel nauseous. She’d never heard her so upset.

  “Those things are both bad enough,” her mom went on. “But, Meggie . . . you lied to us, and that isn’t how this family works. We don’t lie to each other. No matter what.”

  Meg looked down at the floor, then stared at Chestnut through watery eyes. Her dad cleared his throat, and when Meg looked up at him, he seemed so sad.

  “When I told you that we couldn’t get another dog, I meant it Meg,” her dad said with a firm voice.

  Meg let out a choked sob. She’d made the biggest mistake of her life, and there was no undoing it. She knew in her heart that her parents would never, ever let her keep Chestnut now.

  At her feet, Chestnut sank to the floor with a whimper.

  ★ Chapter 17 ★

  * * *

  * * *

  The family was silent as they climbed into the truck. Meg sat in the back seat between Ben and Sarah, with Chestnut curled on her lap. She could barely breathe as her dad put the truck into gear and backed out of the drive, turning toward town and the animal shelter.

  Sarah squeezed one of Meg’s hands gently, and Ben looped his arm through her elbow on the other side. But Meg only had eyes for Chestnut, who wiggled excitedly on her lap, straining to see out the window. He was so happy to be with the family. He had no idea what awaited him at the end of the drive. Meg was nearly overwhelmed with guilt, and she buried her face in his fur. After a few moments, Chestnut settled down, falling asleep with his head resting on Meg’s arm.

  Her worst fears had come true. Chestnut trusted her completely, and she was about to abandon him, just like his last owner had. Tears streamed down Meg’s face as she struggled to believe that these were her final moments with her dog.

  The closer they got to the shelter, the harder it was for Meg to hold back her sorrow. As they slowed to turn into the parking lot, a tiny cry escaped her mouth. Chestnut woke up immediately and hopped to his feet, his brow scrunched up with concern for her. He whined and licked at the tracks of her tears, and Meg’s heart broke all over again. Sarah had also started to cry. Ben sat quietly, his pained gaze fixed on Chestnut’s paw, which rested protectively on Meg’s arm. Her dad glanced at her in the rearview mirror and her mom twisted in her seat to look at her. Their expressions were somber.

  Her dad pulled into a parking spot and turned off the ignition. The silence in the truck was awful. Sarah started to say something, but their mom reached out and put a hand on her knee to shush her.

  “Come on, Meggie,” their dad said wearily.

  Meg felt like her boots weighed a hundred pounds each. She slid down out of the truck and called for Chestnut to follow her. He hopped out obediently and stuck close to her side all the way through the double glass doors into the shelter. Meg’s family streamed in after them.

  A television hung in the corner with the news playing on mute. Meg heard dogs barking somewhere in the distance, and Chestnut’s ears shot up and forward as he tried to track the sound. He sniffed his way around the room.

  Meg’s dad approached the woman sitting behind the counter and began talking to her quietly. Meg’s mom, Ben, and Sarah gathered around her. Meg looked at her mom.

  “Can I—” Meg couldn’t finish the sentence right away. She took a few quick breaths, waiting until she was able to speak without crying. “I need to say goodbye.”

  Her mom nodded sadly. Meg sat down on a bench in the far corner of the waiting room and clicked her tongue for Chestnut to join her, just like Colton had taught her. The dog trotted over and hopped up onto the bench next to her, looking at her so sweetly, so innocently, that Meg had to turn away for a second.

  Meg leaned down and pressed her nose to his. “I’m so sorry, Chestnut,” she said, her voice shaky. “But I have to leave you here. Everything’s going to be all right, buddy, I promise.” She gazed into his big, bright eyes. “You are the best dog ever, and you have made me so happy. But now it’s time for you to make someone else happy.”

  She had promised him that she’d always come back. She had promised him that he would never be alone again. With a horrible pang, Meg realized that she hadn’t just been lying to her family—she’d been lying to everyone. She’d lied to her parents, her siblings, her grandmother, and her best friend, but also to Chestnut—and especially to herself. She’d been so stupid to ever let herself think that this would work out.

  She stroked his soft chin and ran a thumb along the dip in his forehead. She gently rubbed his ears, and he closed his eyes. “I love you, Chestnut,” she whispered. “And I’ll never, ever forget you. That’s one promise I know I’ll never break, as long as I live.” Chestnut responded by licking her nose.

  Meg looked over at her family, who stood huddled together at the front. Her dad had his face buried in his hands, and her mom had her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Meg couldn’t help but think about Bruiser, and how her dad had never wanted any of his children to feel this way. Maybe being a farm dog wasn’t the right kind of life for Chestnut after all. Maybe the shelter would find him a family and a home where he’d fit in perfectly, where everyone would be as happy as she was to have him.

  Meg wrapped her arms around Chestnut’s neck and kissed his head. “There’s somebody out there that needs you even more than I do,” she said into his fur. She steeled herself. It was time.

  Meg stood up and carried Chestnut over to the front desk. The woman smiled sympathetically at her.

  “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” she said to Meg. “A handsome dog like this, he’ll have a happy new home in no time. Gosh, he’ll probably get adopted right away, since folks like to give dogs as Christmas presents so much. I’ll bet he’ll be under someone’s tree with a bright red bow around his neck by Christmas morning.”

  Meg tried to force a smile, but it crumbled before it reached the corners of her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears. Chestnut doesn’t belong under anyone else’s tree, she thought. He belonged under hers. He belonged at the end of her bed.

  He belonged with her, period.

  Chestnut looked at her with such trust as she handed him over to the woman. He didn’t mind
being held by a stranger, and his tail thwacked against the woman’s arm. He kept his gaze on Meg, watching her like they were playing a game and he was waiting for her next move. Chestnut had no reason to think that he and Meg were about to be separated forever. Meg had worked so hard to get him to trust that she would always come back, and that’s exactly what he was doing: trusting her. He believed, in a simple, pure way, that she would come back, just like she’d promised.

  Meg’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces as she watched the woman turn around and carry Chestnut through a metal door at the back of the room. The dog scrambled up onto her shoulder so he could look back at Meg. Even as he moved farther and farther away, his brown eyes stayed on her, never doubting her for an instant. Just as the door swung shut between them, Meg heard him let out one short, sharp whimper of confusion.

  Meg turned and ran past her family, through the front door. She made it outside just as the loud, racking sobs burst from her body. She couldn’t have stopped them if she’d tried. Ben and Sarah ran after her and started to pull her into a hug, but she shook them off and climbed into the truck. Her family got in, and her dad sat stone-still in the driver’s seat for a moment before starting the ignition.

  Meg’s weeping didn’t subside as they began to drive home. Her family exchanged sad glances with each other over her head, but she didn’t acknowledge them. She didn’t have any room in her heart for anything but her own grief—and her love for Chestnut. What would happen to him? Would the people who adopted him be kind to him? Would they know how much he liked his ears scratched? Would they know to check his paw for infection? Would Chestnut bond with them the way he’d bonded with her, or would he feel lost and confused? Would he miss her for long—or forever?

  Meg’s mind whirled with questions and regrets. She replayed every decision she’d made since she had found Chestnut, trying to figure out the moment when it had all gone wrong. How had it come to this? What should she have done differently so that he would be here by her side, and not alone in a cage, growing farther in the distance with every passing second?

  She didn’t deserve a dog like Chestnut. He deserved to feel safe and happy. She was so angry and disappointed with herself that she felt sick to her stomach.

  As the truck turned onto their road, her dad cleared his throat as if to say something, but her mom shook her head and he fell silent again. Ben reached over and squeezed Meg’s hand, but she pushed him away. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted her dog back. She knew she had been wrong to lie, and wrong to keep Chestnut when she wasn’t supposed to. But why wasn’t she supposed to?

  It all came back to the fact that her mom and dad didn’t think she was grown-up enough. They didn’t think she was grown-up enough to truly help with the farm. They didn’t think she was grown-up enough to take care of a dog. And they didn’t think she was grown-up enough to handle losing that dog someday. Meg laughed harshly under her breath. They had tried to protect her from being hurt by getting too attached to a dog, but they were the reason she got hurt—not Chestnut. Chestnut hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Her grief began to turn into something more like anger. Her parents didn’t have to make her get rid of Chestnut.

  They could have let her keep him but grounded her from seeing her friends for a month.

  Or they could have taken away her screen time.

  Or they could have taken back her Christmas presents.

  Meg wouldn’t have cared what other kind of punishment they had come up with. She would have given back all her Christmas presents past and future if it meant they could have stayed together.

  She thought bitterly of her dad. She couldn’t believe that he was cruel enough to put Meg and Chestnut through the same heartbreak when he knew how badly it hurt. And her mom’s expression when they pulled up to the shelter had been so full of sorrow—and yet she didn’t utter a word of protest as they handed Chestnut over to some stranger to be locked in a cage, without a home or a family or someone to love him.

  How could they have left him there?

  How could her parents do this to her?

  ★ Chapter 18 ★

  * * *

  * * *

  As soon as the truck came to a stop, Meg hopped out and ran into the house. She stomped up the stairs and flung herself facedown onto her bed, still wearing her coat, scarf, and mittens. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, and she didn’t want to hear them tell her that she’d move on eventually, that there would be other dogs in her life. She could still smell Chestnut on her mittens, and she pressed them to her face, sobbing quietly until she no longer had even the energy to cry.

  Meg was exhausted, and she must have dozed off for a while. She woke suddenly to a dark room and the sound of loud voices carried up from downstairs. She was groggy, confused, and overheated in her winter gear. She rubbed her puffy eyes as she sat up in bed.

  Curiosity got the best of her. Meg tiptoed out of her room to the top of the stairs, where she could listen without being seen. She immediately recognized the voice of Mr. Mike, the farm foreman.

  “I’m sorry to bother you at suppertime, but it couldn’t wait . . .” Mike said, his usually booming and jovial voice sounding distressed.

  “It’s no bother, Mike. Would you like to stay for supper?” Meg’s mom asked. Meg heard her moving around the kitchen rattling pans and opening and closing cupboard doors.

  “No, thank you, though I’m sure whatever you’re making is delicious. I . . . I have some bad news, guys, and I hate to be the one to tell you all.” Mike cleared his throat as if he didn’t want to say whatever was about to come next. Meg could picture him, tall and barrel-chested, with his John Deere cap clutched in his hands and his gray hair wispy and mussed.

  “What is it, Mike?” her dad asked, his tone serious. Meg heard the sound of chairs scraping across the floor and boots shuffling on the ground as they all sat down.

  “I’ve just come from the back lots,” Mike said. “Somebody . . . Somebody’s been chopping there.”

  “Chopping?” Sarah said. “Our trees?”

  “Yes, our trees,” Mike said. “Looks like they’ve . . . run off with about a hundred and fifty of ’em.”

  “What?” Meg’s dad shouted, and she heard him slap the tabletop. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” Mike said grimly.

  Meg’s chest tightened. She couldn’t believe it. Someone stole their trees? Meg had never heard of anything so awful. It had never occurred to her that someone could break onto their land and steal the only thing keeping her family—and their farm—afloat. They needed those trees.

  “Oh my God,” Meg’s mom gasped.

  “Should I call the sheriff, Dad?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he replied. “Thanks, Sarah.”

  “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Mike went on. “Please let me know what I can do to help.” Meg heard a chair scoot back from the table.

  “Of course, Mike,” her dad said. “You do so much already—thank you for coming to tell us. We’ll get through this.”

  “I know we will.”

  She could hear Mike leave through the front door. Then she heard her dad murmuring softly, as her mom broke down crying. Meg could almost picture him reassuring her mom that everything would be all right. But it all felt like a lie. It felt like nothing would ever be all right again.

  Blood pounded in Meg’s ears. This couldn’t be real. What kind of person would steal trees? It felt like the kind of thing that would happen in a nightmare . . . almost too strange and terrible to believe.

  For a second, Meg’s anger with her parents about Chestnut got the best of her. It serves them right for making me get rid of my dog, she thought. Immediately, though, she felt ashamed. No matter what they had done, she would never wish this on her parents—they couldn’t afford the loss of a hundred and fifty trees. They were going to have to lay off workers for sure.

  This might
even cost them the farm.

  Meg felt like she was going to throw up. All of her parents’ hard work, all that her brother and sister had done to nurture those trees and run the lot—it was all a waste. Some thief hadn’t just taken trees. He had taken everything from them.

  Meg wished she were still asleep. She wished she could wake up and Chestnut would still be here. There wouldn’t be any stolen trees. Things would be normal again.

  But then she heard her dad on the phone calling the sheriff’s office. She heard her mom sniffling quietly, and Sarah and Ben trying to comfort her. She knew it wasn’t a dream. She sat down at the top of the stairs, shaking and scared.

  It was quiet downstairs while the family waited for the sheriff. When Meg heard tires rolling across the gravel driveway, she heard her dad’s heavy footsteps moving across the room to open the door.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles, Mr. Briggs,” the woman’s voice drifted up to Meg. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Meg’s dad recounted what Mr. Mike had told him. She asked several questions, including the value of the trees, when they were last checked, and who else had access to the farm. Then, as they prepared to go out and investigate the scene of the crime, the deputy said, “Listen, Mr. and Mrs. Briggs. I understand that this must be very hard for you. And we all know that trees don’t just get up and walk away on their own, which means someone stole them from you. Unfortunately, I . . . Before we go out there, I want to manage your expectations. I don’t really know what we’ll find or whether we’ll be able to track down whoever did this. But even if we found the trees that were stolen, it isn’t as if we’ll be able to identify them or prove that they’re really yours. They’re just like any other trees out there, right?”

  Meg was practically shaking with anger, because she knew the sheriff was right. The thieves were going to get away with their crime, while her family and the staff of the tree farm were going to suffer.