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“Yeah,butshemusthaveitwrong.ShesaidIfound the dog, starving, in the ravine behind our house when I still lived with my father. I hid the dog in the basement for as long as I could. Not long, probably. I wasn’t the greatest at keeping secrets.”
Mary held her breath. She needed to know where this was going.
“Aunt Cynthia said I wanted to get rid of the dog before long and asked her to adopt it.”
“Van, this is weird. You just wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Yeah, I know, but she wouldn’t make up something like that. She wouldn’t misremember it, either.”
He paused. “I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t remember anything, not really, but something about it all does feel strange. What Aunt Cynthia said — maybe she joggled something loose. I’ve remembered some horrible nightmares I’d rather forget.”
“What kind of nightmares?”
“My father yelling at me to act like a man, something like that. In the dream, I had no idea why. My father hit me, and the dog latched on to his pant leg, and I was crying and hugging the dog and pulling it away from my father, and he was yelling. I’d wake up in a sweat.”
Mary stroked his arm.
“He was a cold, withdrawn son of a bitch. I imagine he’d want to raise his son in his own image. Good thing for me he didn’t have much chance to.”
“Your aunt raised you,” Mary said.
“Yeah. I think my father died when I was eight or so. It was great going to live with Aunt Cynthia. I’d always loved the summers with her, and it was even better year-round. She believes chocolate is a food group.”
Mary laughed.
“I remember another horrible nightmare,” Van said. “I think I wasn’t supposed to pet the dog or play with it. My father caught me one time curled up with the dog in a corner of the back yard, and he tried to pull it away from me. I was crying, and the dog snarled. I don’t remember how that one ended either, if dreams ever do end. I just remember something hideous happened. My father did something hideous.”
Van shuddered. So did Mary.
“Mary, what if something like those dreams was real? What if I forgot about it when it happened because I didn’t want to think about it? I don’t want to think about it now. It gives me the creeps thinking about it. I remember not liking my father much, and Aunt Cynthia had a hate on for him, although she tried not to show it when I was a kid. There’s something about all this that makes my skin crawl, more than if it were just dreams or a kid’s wild, gruesome imagination.”
“I hope none of it is true, Van. It’s bad enough if it’s nightmares.”
“The thing is, I don’t remember having anything to do with the dog even after I went to live with Aunt Cynthia. That’s strange. Once my father was gone … What kind of little boy would I have to have been to not play with a dog and get into all kinds of boy-dog mischief?”
“What if the nightmares were real? What if that’s what Cyn started to tell you, but she thought she should give it some more time? What if she thinks your dad did threaten your dog, and you loved it so much you’d do anything to get it away to safety?”
“With that son of a bitch, I suppose anything could be true. But never mind. We’ve got more important thingstothinkabout.Like,wehaven’tgottenhotand sweaty often enough today.”
Mary rolled him onto his back and straddled him. “I might be interested in that.”
Shejustwasn’tsureitwastheonlyimportantthing to think about.
Then again, she wasn’t sure about anything, except that making love with him was the most important thing in the universe.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Le intihueiLrcu
V
AN’S FARMHOUSE WAS FULLYrenovated and ready a weeklater,asthecontractorhadpromised.Van was bitterly disappointed, however, to find out he had to move in alone and stay there alone, for a while, at least. One of the biggest newspapers in the country, and probably the world, had heard about Mary’s book and wanted more. She was to interview five biz whizzes, in addition to Van, who were now making their products as cheaply at home as they had been in low-wage countries. They were revolutionizing their companies and bringing the jobs back home.
Van drove her to the airport. Not the nearest one. Just the nearest one with a direct flight. Not that he wanted another two hours with her before she left. Really. It just made more sense for her to fly direct.
He parked and went into the airport with her too. Notthathewantedthosefewextraminuteswithher, either. It just made more sense than leaving her to struggle with all her baggage on her own.
He was halfway along to the check-in area with her when he realized the only luggage she had was the carry-on bag he was wheeling.
