Chapter Twenty-Seven Rosalynn
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rosalynn
The noise was so deafening in her van with the hatch rattling nonstop, Rosalynn had to take a break at the Virginia state line’s welcome center to check the repair. For a moment, she feared that Scooter had lied just to get her out of his hair.
Upon inspection, it appeared he had been true to his word. In fact, she suspected it might never be opened again except with a blowtorch.
Her mother palmed the back window. “We may need earplugs for the rest of the trip, but our luggage is secure.”
Rosalynn adjusted her hold on Dusty’s leash. “We might as well take a break. Hopefully our last.”
Elsie snorted. “I wouldn’t bet on that. Luck has not been on our side. I’m gonna hit the vending machines.”
Lillian frowned, her gaze tracking her granddaughter. “I’m worried about her. Maybe we should consider letting her stay with me—”
“Absolutely not. She’s my daughter. If you have extra time on your hands, consider running for Congress.” Rosalynn wheeled her chair backward. “I’m taking Dusty over to the grass. The concrete is too hot for his paws.”
She and her mother both could use a break from each other.
They had their prickly moments on the best of days, and this trip was far from ideal conditions.
And truth be told, she was hurt that her mom hadn’t shared about the political nod, even if she planned to turn it down.
The secrecy made her feel disconnected at a time she needed what bonds she had left in her life.
Even Elsie wanted to box her out.
Seizing a moment to nurse her bruised heart, Rosalynn wheeled along the paved path, in the opposite direction from the dog park. She trusted Dusty’s temperament, but she couldn’t guarantee other dogs were vaccinated and well mannered.
This should be their last delay and she intended to make the most of it for Dusty. Her dog had great nerve strength, disposition, and endurance, but the hospital, the hotel, and then the body shop had stacked considerable stressors.
On the far side of the brick welcome center, she set the brakes beside a park bench.
“Dusty, brace,” she cued, positioning her hands on his shoulders. Her legs trembled but held long enough for her to shift onto the wrought iron seat.
Sure, she could have stayed in her chair, but she was cautious about pressure sores. She would be spending the rest of the day either in the van or in her chair at the hospice facility.
She gave Dusty the full length of his leash so he could sniff to his heart’s content, from the lush grass to a cluster of marigolds.
His tail wagged, picking up speed. Until she’d had a service dog, she hadn’t realized how important exploring smells could be for a dog’s mental health.
She’d learned so much from her first service dog, Peaches, an apricot-colored standard-size poodle.
She’d been paired with Peaches as a high school sophomore after waiting endlessly for the right match.
She’d been surprised to learn the training process took approximately two years. She wouldn’t receive her dog until he or she had completed schooling, since well over half of the puppies washed out of the program.
Luckily, Peaches had been picture-perfect, because in those days, Rosalynn had already been struggling to adapt.
Becoming a service dog handler had been an additional challenge, beyond learning the dozens of cues.
But after she’d begged her parents to investigate an organization, pride kept her from admitting there were days she felt so overwhelmed she couldn’t imagine how she would build a future for herself, much less care for this beautiful furry creature.
Thankfully, once her parents made the decision to apply for an assistance animal, they were all in.
Her father had even learned to groom Peaches to save money.
Rosalynn suspected he also took on the task to steal time for himself with her dog, especially in those early days when Peaches needed to bond with Rosalynn, crucial for their working relationship.
That bond had carried her through the toughest of times during her senior year in high school, on that gut-wrenching day she’d been called out of English class.
She knew it had to be serious to pull her from a semester exam.
She’d only been called from class once before, when her father had been hurt during a warehouse fire.
This time, though, was far worse.
Her father had been seriously injured on the job during a five-alarm fire in a historic home.
The flames engulfed the aged timber. The house collapsed and doctors weren’t sure if her father would survive.
Peaches’s fur had soaked up Rosalynn’s tears in the hospital waiting room.
By the time she’d cried herself out, Rosalynn understood that their connection was about more than simple movements.
Now her cell phone chimed in the side pouch on her chair, likely Lillian or Elsie looking for her.
Rosalynn shook off the weighty past just as Dusty’s head popped up from sniffing around the base of an oak.
He ambled over and put his paws on the wheelchair seat, nudging his head into the pouch until he came back out with the cell phone in his mouth.
She extended a hand. “Drop.”
Dusty released the device onto her palm, then sat waiting for either a treat or direction on what to do next. Maybe both. She fished a piece of kibble from her pocket while checking her screen.
Seth? As much as she wanted to ignore him, he could be phoning about their house or something else in their small beach community. Her chest went tight.
She reached for Dusty with one hand as she cradled her cell in the other and thumbed to activate the FaceTime call. “Seth? Is the house okay?” She hated that he looked so put-together when she had “travel-weary” stamped all over her. “I haven’t been able to reach the Realtor.”
“I haven’t heard anything. I’m still in Biloxi.”
Of course he was. Even though he’d positioned himself beside a potted palm near an elevator, she could hear the bells and chimes of slot machines in the background. “Why are you calling?”
She breathed in the scent of late-blooming flowers, struggling to maintain patience.
“Hey, babe, no need to be curt like that. I’m just checking if you got your van fixed.”
She hated it when he called her “babe.” She should have written that into their divorce decree. No more infantilizing labels. “How did you know about the repairs?”
“Elsie told me when I spoke with her this morning.”
Rosalynn winced at yet another instance of being shut out by her daughter. Dusty looked up at her with wide chocolate eyes, and she motioned a release cue for him to resume his sniffing.
“All’s fine.” She hoped.
“The garage looked pretty run-down when Elsie and I FaceTimed. Are you sure you’re safe to be on the road?”
She wanted to hang up on him. “It was a small shop, but they got us up and running again quickly for a decent price.” Thanks to pulling a part off a wrecked van in their junkyard and some spot welding for good measure. “If that’s all, I need to go.”
Elsie was sitting on the hood of the van eating a bag of chips while scrolling on her phone. Lillian was on her phone as well. How had people managed to travel back in the day with only pay phones and a prayer?
“Hold on,” Seth interjected. “There’s actually one more thing.”
Of course there was. If he asked for a loan because he’d “come up a little short,” she would hang up. “What do you need?”
“Something’s off with Elsie.” His face creased with genuine concern. He did love their daughter. “She’s never been a good liar. She has that tell when she’s in trouble. You know . . .”
“When she twirls her hair.” Rosalynn’s gaze shifted to Elsie. She had been quiet today, more so than regular teenage sulk.
Her maternal instincts tugged that there was more to Elsie’s moods than adjusting to a divorce. There had to be something seriously wrong for Seth to notice.
“Right. That. When I was talking to her, she just about snatched herself bald.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
Frowning, Seth thumbed his college ring around and around on his finger, red stone flashing. “She asked me for money.”
Rosalynn almost burst out laughing. Then the amusement faded. Her daughter had to know that well was dry. “Why would she do that?”
“I’m, uh, having a winning streak. I told her and she wanted to use some of it. Something about paying for a semester of college. She said she’s moving in with Lillian. I can’t imagine you’re okay with that. But Elsie said she told you.”
“Oh, she told me. That doesn’t mean I agreed with her.” If Elsie thought she would cave on this, her daughter had a rude awakening ahead of her. “About your winning streak. You could earmark some of that for child support.”
“If Elsie is moving out . . .”
Seriously?
She’d known he would make excuses not to contribute to Elsie’s care, but that he would kick her out of the nest early to dodge paying for school clothes was pathetic. Even for Seth. “You really are a lowlife.”
“You can’t talk to me that way anymore. We’re not married.”
“What are you going to do about it? Not pay child support? Oh, that’s right. You already don’t.” That man would be lucky if she restrained herself from running over his feet with her wheelchair the next time she saw him. “Thanks for the heads-up about Elsie. Goodbye.”
A deep bark echoed in the distance, growing louder, closer.
She disconnected the call and scanned the rest stop area, on guard for an out-of-control critter.
Sure enough, a leggy Great Dane galloped past the brick welcome center, leash trailing.
A young boy ran after him, elementary age with legs too short to catch up.
Panic swelled, increasing like a neuropathy flare.
Dusty popped up from smelling a honeysuckle bush. His head swiveled to the loose dog, then back to Rosalynn.
Her grip tightened on the tether. “Dusty, come.”
He hesitated, just for a split second, but one that threw fuel on her fears for him. Images flooded her mind of her sweet boy trapped in a dogfight, and she couldn’t protect him.
The Labrador cast one more glance at the animal before trotting back to Rosalynn. She heaved a sigh of relief.
A temporary reprieve.
The Great Dane powered on, closer, closer still. Rosalynn eyed her chair. But there wouldn’t be time to make the transfer, and even if she did, that wouldn’t keep Dusty out of the other dog’s path.
“Mom,” she shouted, her voice mixing with barking and the child’s squeals to stop, wait, stop, wait. “Elsie? Come quick.”
Dusty pressed tighter against her, shielding her with his body. His devotion, his selflessness, increased her terror for him just as the Great Dane closed the gap, slamming into her dog.
The leash went taut in Rosalynn’s hand.
Her body jerked. Her arms flew out defensively as she tumbled from the bench onto the hard packed earth.