28. Chapter 28
“Where, exactly, are we going?” Lizzie asked nervously from the passenger seat. I reached over and put my hand on her knee, then gave it a squeeze. That only made her more nervous.
“I told you. I have two surprises for you.”
I saw her turn her face and stare at me, so I glanced at her, and then back at the road. Then back at her, then back at the road. “What?” I asked.
“Why are you doing that?” She pointed at my hand, which I skated up the bare skin of her fleshy thigh, and I just stared at her. I shrugged and moved my lips to form words, but none came out. I wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking.
“You don’t do that anymore.” Again, she pointed at my hand.
“What?” I asked, insulted, and tightened my grip on her. “Of course I do. I always do this.”
She was shaking her head before I even finished. “No, you stopped doing that a while ago. The last time you put your hand on my leg was right before you told me your Aunt Marla was sick.”
“You loved my Aunt Marla.”
“I did love your Aunt Marla. Hence, you getting nervous before telling me about the cancer and placing your hand on my leg, much like this,”—again, she pointed at my hand, which had gotten sweaty—“right before you broke the news. So, who’s dying?”
“No! Shit. No one!” I pulled my hand back and put it on the wheel. “No one is dying. Scout’s honor. I’m sorry. I’m just … I’m excited to show you something.” I looked back and forth between Lizzie and the road again, and her features seemed to soften.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to ruin this for you.”
“You didn’t.” I reached out and grabbed her hand this time. “I just hope you really like what I’m about to show you. It cost a lot of money, and it was a big commitment, and I didn’t really ask you before I did it. It sort of just happened.”
Lizzie’s eyes widened, and she swallowed audibly. But before she could ask any more questions, I continued. “And I’m sorry I never do this anymore.” I held our joined hands up between us. “I didn’t realize I had stopped.”
She was shaking her head again. “It’s OK, Knox. We aren’t young love anymore. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about it.”
“Hey,” I said, using our joined hands to turn her chin toward me as I came to a stop sign. “We will always be young love. Don’t let me get away with anything less, you got me?” She smiled in response, and I couldn’t help myself. “Even if you are a sure thing.”
“Oh whatever!” Lizzie shrieked dramatically, pulled out of my grasp, and folded her arms over her chest. She looked around the neighborhood as I got closer to our destination.
Here we go.
“What are we doing here?” she asked as I pulled in front of a plot of land with a “SOLD” sign out front. It was full of overgrown grass and had a little stream running through the back of the property. We had passed a few completed, newly constructed homes when we turned onto the street, and there was a home in construction right next door, and on the other side there was a lot with a foundation laid.
Sitting in the truck in front of the property, I just stared at Lizzie, who stared at the lot and pointed at the “SOLD” sign, then looked at me. “Knox?” That was her way of asking what she already knew the answer to. I knew it wouldn’t take her but a minute to figure out what I was telling her.
But I still wanted her to hear me out.
“Wait!” I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the door and climbed out of the truck. I turned around and put my finger up in the air. “Just … Just wait a second.” I slammed the door and ran around to her side.
I swung open her door, leaned over to unclip her seat belt, then grabbed her hand and helped her out of the truck.
“I stopped by one of the houses we passed up the street to drop off an estimate for another project we’re working on. This was like, three months ago. It was the first time I saw the neighborhood. The realtor stopped by at the same time to pick up paperwork from the homeowner, and she was telling me that a buyer had backed out of this lot and that the property owner who subdivided the lots wanted to get them all off his hands. But this one wasn’t as attractive because the stream back there is considered a wetland, so whoever bought it would need to make sure they hired a contractor who knew all about setbacks and how to get through the red tape to construct around it, and, well, I kinda know a thing or two about it …”
I was holding both of Lizzie’s hands as I walked her toward the middle of the property. I didn’t want to stop talking for too long because I wanted her to hear everything before she had a chance to rip into me. I released one hand and came around behind her and re-clasped our hands, so she was tucked into me, her back to my chest. Raising her hand with mine, I first pointed toward the left of the property.
“We could build a two-story ranch house, with an attached garage over here. It could lead to a kitchen and dining area, or we could have a separate dining area.” I lifted her right hand. “We could have a living room on this side, with a big picture window that would take in a lot of light. Up top, we could have three rooms—bedrooms, office space, whatever you want. A full bathroom upstairs and a half-bath downstairs. We could have a small basement, just not the full length of the house, because of the wetlands.”
Lizzie didn’t speak, so I kept going. “We could have a front and back porch. We could put a porch swing out front, or get some of those Adirondack chairs you like.” She still didn’t speak, and I was starting to get nervous.
I let go of her hands and walked around to stand in front of her, removing my ball cap and running my hands through my hair before replacing it backward and bending my knees just enough so we were eye-to-eye.
“Lizzie, I’m sorry. I know this was a big thing to do without talking to you first. And if you hate it, we’ll sell it. I can find someone in the trades who won’t be afraid of it, who would scoop it up just like I did. It just, it felt right. I don’t know how to explain it. I know we have always talked about building a house of our own and we’ve been saving up but then the price was right, and it seemed kind of kismet, I guess, when I ran into the realtor. Before I knew it I was signing on the dotted line and I just … I could see it all, Lizzie. I could see it all so clearly. I still can.”
My eyes danced between hers, which gave away nothing. “Can you, Lizzie? Can you see it?”
Lizzie held my stare for a minute before taking a step back, then she stepped around me. She put her hands in the back pockets of her jean shorts before walking to one edge of the property, where she kicked her sneaker around in the grass.
Shit.
Without looking up, Lizzie spoke, and her soft voice reached my ears. “One car, or two?” When I didn’t respond, she raised her head, and her eyes, to mine. “Would it be a one-car garage, or two?”
“Two,” I answered immediately. “But as an unspoken rule, people with two-car garages typically only fit one car inside because the other side has too much crap in it.”
“Can it be my car?”
“Of course.” That’s it, baby. Take it all in.
Her hands still in her back pockets, Lizzie paced several steps then stopped. “I kind of like a kitchen-slash-dining room. A formal dining room is too stuffy for my taste. And if we have people over, I would like to be able to chat while cooking and serving.”
I nodded. “Open kitchen-slash-dining room. Check.” Keep going, I know you can see it …
She looked up toward the sun and squinted, then looked back at me. “Can the master bath be connected to our bedroom and have a door from the hallway.”
I took steps toward her, nodding. “We’ll put that in the plans.”
She looked back at the stream. Then she turned around and looked at the neighborhood, and eventually her eyes came back to mine. By that time, I was standing right in front of her.
“You’re killing me here,” I said, trying to gauge her reaction.
Lizzie pulled her hands out of her pockets and placed them on her hips, then squared her shoulders toward me. “I want a porch swing that seats two, and I want it under an overhang so we can sit out here in the rain and swing, drinking beer or coffee, depending on the time of day. And I want a screen door that screeches when it opens. And in the back, I want a deck big enough to put a grill on it. I assume it has to be some distance away from the house? And I also want to be able to put a little bistro table on it. You’re also gonna need a shed in the back yard to house a snow blower and lawn mower unless those fit in the garage. Because we aren’t paying anyone to do that for us—”
I grabbed her face and kissed her before she could finish, then I bent down and grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up and spinning her around. “Knox!” she screamed. “Put me down before you throw out your back!”
I gave her ass a swat for that comment before sliding her down my body to the ground and grabbing her face in my hands again. “You see it?” I asked.
“I see it,” she said, her eyes dancing with excitement. “It’s beautiful, Knox. I love it!”
I leaned in to kiss her again, but she pulled back slightly. “But do something like this again without consulting me, and I will throat-punch you.”
“Duly noted,” I said with the biggest smile I may have ever had. Pulling her into me, I looked around the property and felt like I was home. Into my chest, Lizzie mumbled, “So what’s the other surprise?”
The ride back to the apartment was full of energy as Lizzie squealed with all the possibilities of our future home. She bounced in her seat as she clapped her hands together with every idea that popped into her head.
“Oooo we could do a big bay window in the front, with a bench seat where I could sit and read. Oh! And we could put the Christmas tree in front of it every year!”
Her excitement was contagious. “That would be awesome, babe,” I said, looking at her and loving that I did something right. That I made her this happy.
As I pulled into the driveway to our apartment, we both took note of Bram’s truck parked on the street. Lizzie hitched a thumb over her shoulder, in its direction. “Did you know he was coming over?”
“Yeah,” I nodded as I turned off the truck. “He’s helping me with this next surprise.”
Lizzie squealed, still high from the house plans, unclipped her seatbelt and swung the door open. She jumped out and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. I quickly followed behind.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I found Lizzie standing in the open doorway, frozen. I came up behind her and took in the scene, which, stupidly, I didn’t anticipate.
The accent table that used to stand at the entrance to the apartment was on its side, the decorative bowl that used to sit atop it was smashed a foot away. To the right, a bottom cupboard door in the kitchen was open and dangling from one hinge, and looking further into the apartment, we could see shoes and a few squeaky toys, and some Kibble strewn about. In the corner, Bram was in a Tug-o-War match with the stray dog I couldn’t seem to shake—figuratively and literally.
The mangy mutt, which was scrawny, missing patches of fur and obviously startled at being in a new environment, had one of Bram’s long sleeves clenched in its jaw, pulling my brother steadily across the room as he, crouched the same way the dog was, tried to pull his shirt free, to no avail.
The dog growled, and Lizzie put her hand over her mouth. This was definitely not a good first impression.
I pushed past Lizzie and dropped down on my knees a few feet away from them. “Hey, buddy! It’s me, Knox. Remember? Your pal from the job site?” At the sound of my voice, the dog dropped Bram’s sleeve and came bounding over to me.
Bram, bent over with his hands braced on his knees and panting, pointed at the dog. “You told me he was a sweet little thing that just needed a little attention.”
I was scratching the dog behind the ears and patting him on his back when I looked at Bram. “He is! Look at his face. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Did you not see him nearly rip my arm off?!”
“Oh stop, now you’re just being dramatic.” I grabbed the dog on both sides of his face and in a baby voice said, “Ain’t that right buddy? You’re just a wittle puppy!”
As if just now noticing Lizzie, the dog turned his head sharply in her direction. I followed his gaze and found my wife shooting flaming daggers out of her eyes at us. “That’s Lizzie,” I said to the mutt. “She’s really sweet, and I know she’s just going to love you.”
The dog let out a sound. I wouldn’t call it a growl, but I wouldn’t call it a whimper, either. It was more of a “hmmm” noise, if that’s possible. On light feet, he pranced over to Lizzie, who backed herself right up to the closed door. “Knox?”
“He’s just checking you out, baby. Don’t worry. This dog has been following me around the jobsite for weeks. He’s the sweetest thing, really! Keeps us all company.”
I heard Bram bristle behind me. “Sweet my ass.” I shot him a look.
“Anyway,” he said, patting down his pockets, making sure he had all his belongings. He pointed to the floor. “There’s the Kibble,” then the counter, “there’s the leash you asked me to pick up,” then he pointed around the apartment, “and there are some toys I also got at the store. There was a bone here somewhere, but he chewed through that in about eight seconds flat, so … yeah. I’m gonna leave you guys to it.”
He breezed past me and gently ushered Lizzie away from the door, where the dog was still sniffing around her legs, and, just before the door closed behind him, he stuck just his head back in and said, “Oh and there’s a plastic bag with his steaming pile of shit in your garbage, in case you start to smell something.”
I watched the door close, and I didn’t have to turn my head to know Lizzie was boring a hole right through the side of it with her glare. I could feel it. When I finally did turn my head, she mouthed one word to me. “No.”
“Baby, listen, he’s just a little skittish right now—”
“No,” she said, audibly this time.
“I know how you feel about dogs—”
“It’s not how I feel about them, Knox. It’s how they feel about me!” With the raise in her voice, the dog barked at her. “See!” She pointed at it, still with her back against the wall. “Do I have to remind you what happened to Beast?”
Still on my knees, I reached toward the dog and patted the floor. “Come here, boy. Come on!” He trotted over and plopped down right in front of me, then rolled over onto his back so I could scratch his belly, which I did so vigorously, and tufts of his hair flew up all around us.
Lizzie’s lip curled. “Oh, hell no.”
I tipped my head, but she continued. “N-O. Knox, this isn’t a surprise. I don’t do dogs. You know that. You knew that all along. I told you that on our first date. Bring him to a shelter, bring him to the animal control officer just, bring him somewhere—anywhere—else.”
As if he could understand English, the dog rolled over on his side, so he was facing her, exposing his belly. Lizzie looked at him from snout to tail, and her eyes fell to the rib bones showing across his middle, then to the small scars on his hind legs, and then at the various areas where the fur was rubbed raw. I saw empathy in her eyes.
“Life isn’t easy for a stray,” I said.
“Knox,” Lizzie said, as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is an apartment. An animal like this needs so much more room.”
“The backyard here is fenced in, we can let him out there in the nice weather. And I’ll be the one to walk him. Every day. And he will love the property at the new house … You know, once it’s finished.”
She looked back at the dog, then at me, then back at the dog. Come on, baby, give in to me one last time.
“How much does an animal this size eat?” she asked, waving her arms in his direction. “And does the food come in a can? Because I can’t take that smell, Knox. I’ll puke.”
I shook my head. “No, you’re thinking of cat food. He just takes Kibble. And, of course, anything else we want to feed him, for the most part.”
Lizzie’s head popped out a bit, like how a turtle’s head pops out of its shell. Her eyes were wide. “What, exactly, do we want to feed it, Knox?”
“Nothing! No, I just meant, you know, like dinner scraps, or whatever.”
She raised her eyebrows then let out a sigh. We’re getting warmer, I know it …
I put my face down next to the dog’s and gave her my saddest puppy dog eyes, then even whimpered a little bit. Lizzie rolled her eyes and threw a hand up in the air. “Oh, for the love of God, I must be losing my mind!”
“Is that a yes?” I asked Lizzie, then looked down at the dog. “I think that was a yes, buddy!”
Clearly exasperated, Lizzie was suddenly stern. “He is not to be on the furniture. You got that? Not the couch, not the kitchen chairs, not the bed. Understood?”
I nodded, and I swear, so did the dog.
“I will fill the water and food dish, but that’s about it. I don’t do walks—you can take him out before and after you go to work. I don’t do baths … Oh, God! Is he going to have to go in our tub? You know what, I don’t want to know. Either way, I’m not doing it.”
“You’ll never have to. Promise!” I said as I got up off the floor, and the dog rolled over onto his stomach, then sat up on his butt, his tail wagging.
“And I certainly don’t do—” she pushed off the wall, circled around the dog while staring at him and giving him a large berth, and waltzed over to the trash can and pointed inside at the bag of shit “—this!”
I laughed and knelt down to give the dog another scratch behind the ears. “You hear that, buddy? You can stay. You just have to keep your shit under control!” He wheezed at my affection, then trotted over to the corner where he circled a few times, plopped down, curled up and immediately fell to sleep.
I turned to go to Lizzie, but she was almost to the bedroom door. “I’m getting in the shower, and when I get out, I’m hoping this mess will be cleaned up and, somehow, the smell will be gone.”
“What should we name him?” I asked as she disappeared into the bedroom.
“Whatever the hell you want,” she shouted.
I named him after my favorite president.