Chapter 12 MJ
MJ
“June Bug, no,” I say, edging closer to the puppy who has one of my favorite loafers in a choke hold in the living room. “Leave it alone.”
She lets out a playful yip, because of course, she thinks this is a game. It doesn’t matter to her that this is my favorite pair of shoes or that I haven’t been able to find any like them since the early aughts.
“Come on.” I take another step toward her, and she hunkers to the ground, raising her cute little butt in the air. “Who’s a good girl?”
The puppy pauses to scratch before unleashing a series of excited barks, bouncing around in a circle like a wind-up toy, right on top of my loafer.
“That’s right. You are.” Another step, and then I snatch up my loafer.
“You know, sister, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve been bamboozled,” Rose calls from the kitchen where she’s eating lunch.
“Really, Captain Obvious?” I say, my voice flat. “What on earth gave you that impression?”
June Bug was here about twenty minutes before I realized she was clearly my punishment for meddling.
The dog has already managed to pee on my cream-colored rug, leave teeth marks on the leg of my coffee table, and play tug-of-war with my cashmere scarf.
But I can’t even be mad because Lindsey’s going out with Oliver tonight, and that’s what matters.
I saw the way she glowed when she talked to him last night. She hasn’t smiled like that in far too long, and that’s how I know that even if she is a little annoyed with me, I did the right thing.
I know my daughter better than she thinks I do.
She expected me to call her the second the puppy peed on my rug, while making unusually strong eye contact with me.
I’m sure she and Lucy are at the clinic right now, placing bets on how quickly I’ll crack so they can tell me that this is what I get for not minding my own business.
They can bet all day long. This cookie isn’t going to crumble. Sometimes mother really does know best, and what I know is that my daughter’s happiness is worth the retribution.
“Listen here, girlfriend.” I pick up the puppy.
She twists and contorts herself in my hands, reminding me of that scene in The Exorcist when Linda Blair’s head spins while she’s possessed by an ancient demon.
I turn her to face me, holding her so we’re nose to nose.
“I don’t care what you pee on or how many things you chew to bits.
I’m not calling Lindsey. So, we may as well make the most of this situation and find a way to coexist until your papa gets back. Think we can do that?”
She wags her tail and nibbles my chin.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I say, sticking June Bug in her crate so I can feel safe enough to turn my back for more than three seconds while I get some water and the little rugrat’s food.
“I take it this isn’t making you want to adopt one of your own anytime soon,” Rose says as I enter the kitchen.
“Definitely not.”
“So, this is payback for the stunt you pulled,” Rose says with a knowing smile.
“We,” I clarify. “The stunt we pulled. Speaking of, I’ll need you to keep an eye on the pup while I go pick the kids up from school.”
She nods, chewing quietly for a moment before speaking again. “He really is a sweet guy. Handsome too.”
I take a sip of my drink. “He is.”
“I think Henry would approve.”
A fist tightens around my heart. “Me too,” I say, scooping up some kibble from the container Lucy brought with the little she-devil this morning and carry it to the living room where I stop midstep.
The crate door is wide open, and there isn’t a June Bug in sight. “Shit.”
“What?” Rose calls.
“The little Houdini got out of her crate.” I set her bowl down and scan the room. “June Bug! Where are you, you little stinker?” I mutter, looking beneath any piece of furniture she could have hid herself under, which to be fair, is most of what I have.
After having no luck in the den, I check the spare bathroom, the kitchen, and the dining room, but she isn’t there either, and it's quiet. Too quiet. I call her name, to no avail, and a pit forms in my stomach. What if she got wedged under something or put her paw in a damn light socket?
Holding my breath, I move to the playroom and immediately let out a sigh of relief.
There’s June Bug, curled up on a teddy bear, fast asleep.
I tiptoe over to where she’s snoring softly and scoop her up.
She barely stirs as I settle into the rocking chair in the corner of the room.
The same chair I rocked my babies to sleep in.
It’s also where I eventually read Charlotte’s Web to my grandbabies.
She nestles her sweet face in the crook of my arm, and for a moment, we call a truce.
“Grandma, can I have a snack?” Noah asks as we make our way to the front door.
“Me too,” Emily says, bouncing beside her brother.
“Of course,” I say, letting the kids inside. “How about you grab some string cheese to tide you over until I order the pizza?”
The children screech as they bound into the kitchen.
“Oh my word,” my sister shouts from the living room over a collection of other voices. “Can you believe that?”
“Rose?” I drop my keys into a bowl on the entryway table and head toward the sound of her voice, the bag of gingerbread house fixins’ I got at the store clutched in my arm. “Who are you talking—”
I choke on a laugh. Rose is sitting entirely too close to the television in her office chair with the puppy stuffed in her sweater, her little paws hanging over the front. They pry their eyes from an old Dateline episode playing at an earth-shattering volume when they hear me snort.
Rose clicks the remote, silencing the TV. “Sorry, we didn’t hear you come in.”
June Bug wriggles in Rose’s ample bosom, and she plucks her out to reveal her teeny-tiny tail twirling in circles.
“Looks like someone is happy to see you,” she says, holding her out to greet me.
“Hi, girl,” I coo, letting the pup kiss my cheek. “How did she do?”
“She didn’t want to sit still while I watched my shows, so I stuffed her in my shirt.” She pats her boobs. “These boulders could secure a rottweiler in place.”
“That’s not weird at all,” I say in a tone that lets her know it definitely is.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Aunt Rose,” Noah shouts as he and Emily bound into the room, cheese in hand, to give their great-aunt a hug.
“Hey, kiddos.” She ruffles their hair and gives them a squeeze. “Who’s ready to make gingerbread houses?”
They screech a chorus of “meeee.”
“And we’re going to do that very soon,” I say. “How about you two go play for a few minutes while I order the pizzas and get set up?”
“Will you play with us, Aunt Rose?” Emily asks, smiling up at Rose with her cherubic cheeks. “We can play princesses.”
“Yeah!” Noah pumps his small fist in the air. “I want to be Ariel this time.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Rose purses her lips, pretending to consider their offer as she always does. It’s part of their game. “I’m feeling a bit tired this afternoon.”
“Pleeeeeeease,” they beg.
“I’m afraid I’m just too tired.” Rose gets a mischievous glint in her eyes and crouches down, hooking her fingers into claws. She lowers her voice to a creaky rasp. “But lucky for you, Rosanna the sea witch wishes to feed on the souls of young princesses.”
No matter how many times I’ve witnessed this exchange, it still makes me laugh every time. The kids shriek with delight and June Bug wags her tail furiously.
“Come, my faithful sea urchin companion,” my sister says, tucking the dog back into her bra. “We must feast. Princesses, please push my boat to the playroom.”
“Don’t eat too many souls. We’ll be having pizza soon.” I chuckle as Rose winks and the kids push her rolling chair out of the room.
I take my bag of goodies into the kitchen and place them on the island along with my purse. I dig in my bag for my phone and pull it out to order dinner. But before I do, I tap out a quick text to Lindsey:
Can’t wait to hear about your date!