Read Online Those We Love Most by Lee Woodruff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lee Woodruff
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someone walking a dog or saw a movie where a dog was featured. It became clear to her that at some point having a dog was essential to her eldest son’s childhood, like jumping in piles of raked leaves, playing flashlight tag, or learning how to ride a two-wheeler.
Pete had ultimately joined the chorus, arguing with her that they should do this for the kids. “Every kid deserves to have a dog,” he’d said to her. “It’s not like I won’t be around to help too.” But in her mind there had been no question it would be she who ended up with the dirty work, she who would be walking in the early hours with one of those little blue plastic bags in her hand as her dog crouched to poop with an embarrassed hunch. There were times when she’d felt her resolve slipping, and she would conjure up just this image to stick to her convictions.
But a part of her had always understood that all of this was just a slow process of erosion. Adding a dog to the family would simply be a matter of time. Once she was pregnant with Sarah, she and Pete had already determined that she would stay home with the kids full-time. She’d quit her job at the hotel’s corporate offices and ceased commuting into Chicago. As she gradually adjusted to a new rhythm of life as a stay-at-home mom, she’d finally relented.
Maura could vividly remember how James was practically bouncing out of his seat with anticipation on the drive to the county animal shelter. They had all spent an hour looking over the dogs and holding them, but he had fallen in love with a dachshund mix, black for the most part with sand-colored markings around his eyes and ears, and a batonlike tail. The owner had died, explained the shelter worker, an older person, and they believed the dog was five or maybe six, but he was house broken, loving, and most importantly, he needed a home.
Almost immediately James decided that the dog would be named Rascal. He’d been a fan of the old black-and-white “Our Gang” movies that her father had introduced him to, and he explained to Maura and Pete that the dog had a “rascally” look.
When Rascal’s pain turned out to be a disc issue, Maura had entered the world of veterinarian visits and dog medications. While he had never been fully healed, they had all learned to handle Rascal more gingerly. Rascal let out a small whine, bringing her back to the present in the hush of the room. She lifted him carefully down onto the floor, and he moved toward James’s small closet.
Maura could tell that the smell of the boy Rascal loved was present for him too as he circled the room, sniffing. She wondered what those scents told him and how a dog processed someone’s prolonged absence. How long would Rascal remember? That dog had been the origin of so much happiness for James, and then after that one visit to the veterinarian, such an unexpected source of joy for her. But she wouldn’t think about that part of her life now. That part, like mothering James, was over.
With what felt like enormous effort, Maura lifted her head off James’s pillow, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, squaring her shoulders before rising and leaving the room. Rascal followed out into the hall, close at her heels. With one last longing look, Maura pulled the door shut and turned the handle with a soft click.
8
“I want to just look at you for a moment. I’m so relieved you are here.” Julia was sipping a chardonnay at the hotel restaurant by the beach. Her deep purple silk sundress created a giant splash of color in the mostly white-toned vista of the patio. “It was so awful to leave you like that last time. You practically ran out of the car at the airport.” She leaned toward him in her chair, looping her arm through his on the table. Her vivaciousness felt rehearsed and cloying.
“We just have the one night,” Roger said, changing the subject. “It’s a quick meeting, more information gathering, and then back to Chicago. We’ve gone
Pete had ultimately joined the chorus, arguing with her that they should do this for the kids. “Every kid deserves to have a dog,” he’d said to her. “It’s not like I won’t be around to help too.” But in her mind there had been no question it would be she who ended up with the dirty work, she who would be walking in the early hours with one of those little blue plastic bags in her hand as her dog crouched to poop with an embarrassed hunch. There were times when she’d felt her resolve slipping, and she would conjure up just this image to stick to her convictions.
But a part of her had always understood that all of this was just a slow process of erosion. Adding a dog to the family would simply be a matter of time. Once she was pregnant with Sarah, she and Pete had already determined that she would stay home with the kids full-time. She’d quit her job at the hotel’s corporate offices and ceased commuting into Chicago. As she gradually adjusted to a new rhythm of life as a stay-at-home mom, she’d finally relented.
Maura could vividly remember how James was practically bouncing out of his seat with anticipation on the drive to the county animal shelter. They had all spent an hour looking over the dogs and holding them, but he had fallen in love with a dachshund mix, black for the most part with sand-colored markings around his eyes and ears, and a batonlike tail. The owner had died, explained the shelter worker, an older person, and they believed the dog was five or maybe six, but he was house broken, loving, and most importantly, he needed a home.
Almost immediately James decided that the dog would be named Rascal. He’d been a fan of the old black-and-white “Our Gang” movies that her father had introduced him to, and he explained to Maura and Pete that the dog had a “rascally” look.
When Rascal’s pain turned out to be a disc issue, Maura had entered the world of veterinarian visits and dog medications. While he had never been fully healed, they had all learned to handle Rascal more gingerly. Rascal let out a small whine, bringing her back to the present in the hush of the room. She lifted him carefully down onto the floor, and he moved toward James’s small closet.
Maura could tell that the smell of the boy Rascal loved was present for him too as he circled the room, sniffing. She wondered what those scents told him and how a dog processed someone’s prolonged absence. How long would Rascal remember? That dog had been the origin of so much happiness for James, and then after that one visit to the veterinarian, such an unexpected source of joy for her. But she wouldn’t think about that part of her life now. That part, like mothering James, was over.
With what felt like enormous effort, Maura lifted her head off James’s pillow, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, squaring her shoulders before rising and leaving the room. Rascal followed out into the hall, close at her heels. With one last longing look, Maura pulled the door shut and turned the handle with a soft click.
8
“I want to just look at you for a moment. I’m so relieved you are here.” Julia was sipping a chardonnay at the hotel restaurant by the beach. Her deep purple silk sundress created a giant splash of color in the mostly white-toned vista of the patio. “It was so awful to leave you like that last time. You practically ran out of the car at the airport.” She leaned toward him in her chair, looping her arm through his on the table. Her vivaciousness felt rehearsed and cloying.
“We just have the one night,” Roger said, changing the subject. “It’s a quick meeting, more information gathering, and then back to Chicago. We’ve gone
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