Chapter Twelve
Twelve
Oh my, oh my, oh my. I still don’t understand what’s happening, but I know enough to put myself between Miguel and Fiona. While I’m not pleased with her, either, Miguel isn’t himself these days, and I don’t want him to do anything stupid. We need him, even if he forgets that.
Fiona blinks. “I beg your pardon?” She pulls the girl back a bit farther. “Is he going to attack us? Dogs sense anger, and you’re clearly very angry, though I have no idea why.”
“He’s harmless, Mom,” the girl tells her, but Fiona’s staring at me fearfully.
Miguel grabs my leash from the ground without answering her. “The World Wide Web was a mistake. Sickos put everything on there.” Dane’s frozen in place, so Miguel turns back to him as he tugs me toward him. “En serio. Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m very sorry I’ve offended you, but I truly don’t understand what I did,” warbles Fiona. She glances around, and the girl takes the opportunity to slip out of her mother’s arms. “Amelia Mae!” she exclaims. “Get away from the dog!”
“That,” growls Miguel. “That is what you did wrong. You said Amelia May.”
“Yeah, because that’s my name,” the girl growls back.
Her voice gets surprisingly deep for such a young human.
Now that I’m examining her, she looks sort of like a smaller version of the woman, except her skin’s darker, like Riley’s, and her flashing eyes say she does not care about being nice.
“I’m Amelia Mae. A-M-E-L-I-A M-A-E. And you,” she says, jabbing a finger at Miguel, “are being mean to my mom.”
Miguel’s face has gone pale. And Dane, who’s beside him now, is as still as a stalk of bamboo on a breezeless day. He opens his mouth to say something, but Miguel beats him to it.
“I—that’s my partner’s name. Amelia May.” He swallows. “By which I mean, it was her name. She’s…”
I hang my head. Six seasons later, she’s still gone for good. No—gone for bad. Because it’s forever.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” says Fiona in a choked voice, and she sounds like she means that with every fiber of her human being.
“How stupid of me. She owned the store with you and…you didn’t know she and my daughter share the same name.
Though Mae,” she says, lifting her chin at the girl, “is Amelia’s middle name, not her surname. ”
“No, I didn’t know,” says Miguel bluntly. “How could I?”
A tear’s trying to escape the corner of Fiona’s eye. If my Amelia were here now, she would’ve given her a big hug and told her it was going to be okay. But Miguel just stands there with his arms hanging at his sides.
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I didn’t mean to upset you, or overreact about the dog, either.”
“This isn’t just some dog, Mom. It’s Harold,” says the other Amelia, kneeling beside me. She puts her arms around my neck again.
“Love bug, please be careful,” says Fiona, who’s batting her lids like she’s caught in a sandstorm.
“Can’t you tell he’s nothing like the kind of dog you’re afraid of? Are you?” The other Amelia’s peering into my eyes again. Strangely, I don’t want to look away. “Can they stay a while so I can hang out with him?”
“No, sweetheart.” She turns to Miguel. “I’m afraid I’ve already made a bad situation even worse.”
He glances down. “It’s not your fault. I should take a cue from your brother and steer clear of people for a while. Or more like indefinitely. Regardless, I apologize for overreacting. It’s still kind of…fresh.”
No one says anything now, and for once, I don’t feel like filling the silence by making someone pay attention to me.
“We’ll be going, then,” Miguel finally tells her, then he motions for Dane to follow him to the front door.
“I really do feel terrible about all of it. How long are you in town?” asks Fiona as she trails after us.
The lines between his eyebrows deepen as he turns and regards her. “We’re supposed to leave tomorrow, but I’m not sure there’s any point in staying overnight now that we know Jonathan’s not here.”
She glances away quickly.
“Why do you ask?” says Dane, examining her.
“It’s just…I feel like I should be able to figure out something for you all—some way to help the store,” she says, raising her eyes again. “Are you free for dinner tonight, by any chance? Everyone’s invited.”
“Even Harold?” says the other Amelia, who still has her arm around my neck.
Fiona smiles tightly. “Even Harold.”
“Yay!”
I couldn’t have said it better myself! But those lines between Miguel’s eyebrows appear to be stuck, and he’s shaking his head. “I appreciate the invitation, but now’s not a good time,” he tells her.
What is this animated meat sack talking about? Now’s the best time! After all, it’s the only time we really have, and I’m certainly not getting any younger over here.
“Drinks, then? We don’t have to do a meal,” Fiona says. “I’d really like to hear about Lakeside.”
Miguel at least has the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to leave Harold by himself in the home we’re borrowing from Dane’s friend. He might take the opportunity to leave a pile in the corner.”
Must he shame me? I only did that once or thrice when he overslept.
“I mean it—he can come, too,” she says, but she sounds uncertain. She reaches into the canvas bag on the counter and retrieves a small card, which she passes to him. “If you change your mind, here’s my number. I don’t know how, but I’d like to make this up to you.”
Miguel examines the card. “No,” he says softly.
“That’s it?” Fiona pulls her head back, incredulous. “Just, no?”
“If you won’t put me in touch with your brother, then there’s nothing you can do to make this up to us.”
Us. Maybe he just means me and Dane, but I somehow doubt it, and now I feel sad again because he’s back to thinking he’s failed Amelia. And his “no” means I’m almost certainly going to fail her, too.
Fiona smooths an imaginary wrinkle on her dress, then meets his gaze. “Isn’t that what you came here for? To get help?”
“I came here for answers.”
“And I don’t have the ones you want.”
“I guess not. But again, thanks for inviting us in.” He begins shuffling toward the front door, with me and Dane following behind him like ducklings.
I, for one, would very much like to return for dinner, even if I’m mildly insulted that Fiona fears I will hurt her daughter.
The other Amelia must be disappointed, too, because she gives me a mournful look.
Now, I am highly aware that this is not about me. It is about fulfilling my duty by doing what’s best for Miguel. And everything from Fiona Foster’s bright eyes to her brilliant smile tell me that she would make a great mate for Miguel.
Or at least she will once I turn her into a dog person.
It just so happens that Fiona’s a package deal.
So, you can’t blame me for wagging my nub when her child, who just happens to go by the best name in the world, grabs me before I leave her uncle’s glass house and whispers in my ear, “Don’t you worry, Harold.
This isn’t the last we’ll see of each other. ”