34. Bethany
Chapter thirty-four
Bethany
The bathroom fan in the rental is making a noise that belongs in a horror movie.
I stand beneath it with my clipboard tucked under one arm, listening to the blades scrape through another uneven rotation.
Rattle. Whine. Thunk. Silence. Then the whole performance starts again.
“The good news,” I tell the empty rental, “is that you are probably not possessed.”
The fan rattles loudly enough to challenge that assessment.
“The bad news is that I am taking you apart.”
I switch it off at the wall and add it to my repair list.
The rental is one that is easier to manage. Two bedrooms. One bathroom. Small fenced yard. The last tenant left it clean enough that I have not found a single mystery stain or abandoned piece of exercise equipment.
I walk through the hallway, checking the paint, window locks, and smoke detectors. My work settles around me.
I can fix every problem in this house with a screwdriver, a phone call, or the correct amount of money.
This is why I like property work.
Buildings rarely misunderstand you. I tighten the cabinet hinge harder than necessary. The door swings shut with a sharp click.
“Perfect.” My voice echoes through the kitchen.
I finish the inspection and send the repair list to the owner. The reply arrives before I make it to the front door.
You are a lifesaver. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
Normally, the praise would give me a small rush of satisfaction. It would confirm that I am good at my job, that my work matters, and that there is a reason people keep calling me.
Today, I stare at them until the screen dims.
I do know what she would do without me.
She would call someone else.
I lock the front door and carry my supply bag to the truck.
My phone buzzes before I climb inside.
Jenna.
Your former criminal has destroyed another toy. Emergency consultation required.
A picture follows.
The puppy sits in the middle of a carpet covered in yellow stuffing, one paw resting on the remains of what may once have been a duck.
His expression is calm.
Regal, even.
I smile as I type back.
He appears unrepentant.
Jenna replies immediately.
Sir Reginald McFluffFace answers to no earthly court.
I close my eyes.
She cannot be serious.
The three dots appear.
I love his new name. Reggie for short. Come admire it.
I type:
I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
Jenna’s house is small and bright, with a narrow front porch and a yard that looks even larger now that a nine-pound dog is sprinting across it in frantic circles.
Reggie sees my truck through the fence.
His entire body stops.
When he sees me he launches himself across the yard like I have returned from war.
I barely make it through the gate before he jumps at my knees.
“Hello to you too.”
I crouch, and Reggie climbs onto my lap.
His tongue catches my chin. Then my cheek. Then the tip of my nose. I laugh and turn my face away.
“You have become very aggressive.”
His tail pounds against my leg.
Jenna stands on the porch holding a mug.
“He has embraced life as a member of the landed gentry.”
She points toward his collar.
A silver tag hangs against the blue fabric.
I catch it between two fingers.
SIR REGINALD McFLUFFFACE
Below it, in smaller letters, is Jenna’s phone number.
I stare at her.
“You paid money for this.”
“Best eleven dollars I’ve ever spent.”
I scratch behind his ears.
He leans into my hand, eyes closing. He remembers me. Some part of me expected him not to. I expected my absence to erase whatever he felt.
I expected him to look at me like a stranger because I had chosen not to keep him.
Jenna opens the front door.
“Come inside before he eats your sleeve.”
Reggie trots ahead of us.
The house has changed since the last time I visited.
A crate sits in the corner of the living room with a blanket draped over one side. The expensive bed rests near the fireplace. Three toys lie across the rug, not counting the remains of the executed duck.
The stuffed moose is tucked against the bed.
Reggie grabs it the moment he notices me looking and brings it over. Reggie drops the moose at my feet. I pick it up and squeak the one section that still works.
He pounces.
For the next ten minutes, we play with the moose. I let him.
By the time he settles beside me on the couch, his head across my thigh, my coat is covered in hair and I don't care one bit.
Jenna sits in the chair across from me.
“So. You and Tim broke up?”
My hand stops. "Yeah."
Jenna sets down her mug.
"Are you okay?"
The gentleness in her voice makes me tense.
“I don’t need sympathy.”
“Good. I was planning to be judgmental.”
I look at her.
She leans back in the chair.
“You still haven’t told him that I have Reggie?”
“We haven’t spoken.”
Jenna’s eyebrows rise.
I exhale.
“I did not want to use Reggie as an excuse to contact him.”
“Telling someone where the animal they loved went is not an excuse.”
“I thought it might reopen the argument.”
“The argument is already open. You both just walked away from it.”
I move my hand from beneath Reggie’s paw and fold my arms.
“I was trying not to hurt him again.”
Jenna leans forward.
“That is what you said when you scheduled the pickup while he was gone.”
My face heats.
“I made a mistake.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t need to sound so pleased about it.”
“I’m not pleased. I’m frustrated because you know you made the mistake and you are still making it.”
“I am not.”
I stand carefully so I do not disturb Reggie.
He lifts his head anyway.
“I did not come here to be analyzed.”
“No, you came because I sent you a picture of the cutest dog in the world.”
“Yes.”
“And now you've stepped into my underhanded best friend trap.”
I walk toward the window.
The yard beyond it is scattered with toys. A water bowl sits beside the back door. Everything Reggie needs. Everything I wanted for him.
I chose the right home.
That does not make the way I did it right.
I can hold both truths now, even though they rub against each other like exposed wires.
“He might not want to talk to me,” I say.
Jenna’s voice softens.
“That is possible.”
The honesty hurts. I turn around.
“You’re supposed to tell me he is miserable and waiting for me.”
She laughs and then stands.
“My brother is hurt. He is also stubborn, insecure, and capable of saying spectacularly stupid things when he feels rejected.”
Jenna folds her arms. “Tim made his own messes. I have been related to him for twenty-seven years. I am not confused about that.”
Some of the fight drains from me.
“But you shouldn't leave things like this. He's going to find out about Reggie one way or another. Just tell him.”
I look away.
Reggie gets off the couch, stretches, then wanders over to sit on my foot.
Jenna watches him.
I acted like I was trapped behind all these problems.
The memories line up.
Every assumption.
Every practical explanation.
Every exit planned before anyone asked me to leave.
I had imagined the wall as something built around me by every person who forgot, disappointed, or walked away.
My thirteenth birthday.
My father’s empty promises.
People who needed something and disappeared when the need was gone.
I used every memory as another brick.
“I need to talk to him about why I turned Grant's offer down.”
“And the dog.”
“Yes.”
“And that you love him.”
My breath catches.
Jenna’s expression does not change.
“You do.”
“I know.” I loved Timothy when I gave Reggie away. I loved him when I walked out of Hockey House.
“I may be too late.”
Jenna nods slowly.
“You'll never know if you don't try.”
Reggie paws at my boot.
I crouch and lift him.
He settles against my chest like he still belongs there. He can love this house and still remember the lodge. He can belong to Jenna and still race toward me.
Love does not disappear because circumstances change.
I press my face briefly against his fur.
“You are not fluffy enough for your new name.”
He licks my jaw.
Jenna picks up her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Correcting one immediate problem.”
My stomach tightens.
“Jenna.”
“My brother thinks Reggie vanished into the wilderness.”
“He does not think that.”
She unlocks the screen.
“I am telling him the truth.”
“Shouldn’t I do that?”
“You should tell him the truth. But so should I as his sister.”
Her fingers move over the screen. I shift Reggie higher.
“What are you going to say?”
She turns the phone so I can see.
Hey. I just found out you don’t know that I’m Reggie’s new owner. He lives with me. His full name is Sir Reginald McFluffFace, but I’ll allow Reggie. Bethany chose me because she hoped keeping him in the family would make this easier for both of you. I should have made sure you knew sooner.
I read it twice.
Jenna’s thumb hovers over send.
She looks at me.
I shift Reggie into one arm.
“Send it.”
Jenna does.
She slips her phone back in her pocket and looks at me. "Now it's your turn. It doesn't have to be right now, but soon. Tell him."
Reggie rests his chin on my shoulder.
I spent years believing the wall around my heart was something I had to survive.
Now I can see my fingerprints on every brick.
The knowledge still hurts.
But beneath the shame is something stronger.
If I built it, I can tear it down.
Timothy may not be waiting when I reach the other side.