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“Oh gods, he hasn’t had his dinner,” Dad said, heading for the kitchen door.
At the word ‘dinner,’ Sammie whipped around and hurtled after Dad, disappearing into the kitchen in all of three seconds.
I wiped the drool off my face with my sleeve as I stood up. Sammie’s food motivation was strong enough to make training him easy. But he would still run away from a treat at full speed if he caught the scent of a decent steak.
I wasn’t hungry, and there was another animalistic friend I had to say ‘hi’ to.
On my way to Dad’s study, I inhaled a musty breath and tilted my head toward the vaulted ceiling. Apart from the addition of the tapestry, nothing had changed. My great-grandmother’s hand-carved sigil of Aquarius hung on the wall, next to a framed family photo. It had faded a little more after years in the sunlight, but Dad would replace it again when it whited out too much.
I tried the handle to Dad’s study and the door opened. It was always a toss-up if it was locked or not.
A cloud of vanilla scent breezed past me as I entered, and I eyed the line of giant scented candles on his desk.
“For the love of…” I picked up an unopened candle and looked it over. “Perfectly Pomegranate? Jeez, Dad.”
He had teetered on the edge of a candle addiction before I left, and without me to talk him out of his purchases, he had really gone off the rails.
I put the candle down as a golden glint caught my eye. A harp—Mum’s harp.
I leaned against the desk and gripped the edge with my hands. Dad had insisted on lessons when I was little, and I had gotten quite good by my teens. But the older I became, the more I realised Dad wanted to keep my mum alive through that hobby. Ever since that realisation, playing the harp hadn’t felt the same.
Turning away from the harp, I scanned the room and found what I was looking for. On the top of a bookshelf next to the window stood a glass enclosure packed with mossy branches and ferns.
“Hey, bristle-breeches,” I said and opened the plastic top to stick my hand in.
Flora wiggled her two front legs at my hand before scuttling inside her favourite hollow log.
My heart sank a little.
Apparently, Flora’s memory wasn’t as good as Sammie’s. Still, I would stay long enough for her to get to know me again.
“Is she all right?” Dad poked his head in the doorway.
“She’s great.” I removed my hand and closed the lid. “Thanks for taking care of her.”
“You can repay the favour by giving me a tune, if you’d like.” Dad stepped through the doorway and nodded at the harp.
I tensed and fiddled with the beaded friendship bracelet from Allison around my wrist.
He was always going to ask, eventually. I had just hoped it would be later rather than sooner.
“I’m kinda tired. Might have a shower and go to bed,” I said.
“All right.” Dad pursed his lips but opened his arms to me as I headed for the door.
I lingered in his hug for a moment. A few hours ago, I wondered if I would still have a dad by the end of the day.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Dad said.
“Me too.”
I bid him good night and heaved my bags up the stairs. Still licking his lips, Sammie bounded up after me.
The long stretch of floorboards that ran the length of the second floor took me to my bedroom right at the end.
I kicked open the door with my foot and Sammie ran in ahead of me, jumping up on the bed. Someone had draped a pair of clean pyjamas and a folded towel on my ruby duvet.
I cracked a smile.
