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Guinevere got to Pepe first. She placed her massive jaws gently around the scruff of her son’s neck and carried him to a quiet corner beside the garden shed. He tried to scramble up again, but she growled a warning, and he settled back down. Guinevere turned her massive head to whuffle an apology toward Mary.
Poor Guinevere. She was still hyper-vigilant in the wake of her son’s escapade with the horse and the consequences. She was still taking the blame for what Van thought was his fault.
Pepe curled up where he’d been put, maybe repentant, more likely wary of Mom and Mary, but Mary was sure it wouldn’t last long. Puppies will be puppies. You still don’t ship them off to a kennel, no matter how ridiculously luxurious and expensive the kennel is.
“Of course I’m taking it hard, Mom.”
“If you weren’t such a dog lover, it might not matter quite so much.”
It was difficult to fathom a world with people who didn’t love dogs as much as she did, but she had to admit some people didn’t. Van had come around to loving the dogs, for all he would never say so. He had seemed to love her too, for all he could never say so. Then he pushed her and them away with a thoroughness that turned her blood to liquid hydrogen.
“Honey, are you worried that, if he couldn’t take care of the dogs, he’d never be able to take care of children?”
402ALI MACGEE
“Yes,” Mary said. “No,” she added. “Maybe,” she wailed. “I don’t know.”
“But Mary, in our family, they’re never around to look after children anyway. And it’s usually child, just one child. That can’t be as hard, although I can’t claimtoknowfromexperience.YourUncleBrockand I are a rarity in this family, and it took two fathers to produce us.”
“Maybe it’s not just that. His blood is too blue. He fits in those circles.”
“And you don’t?”
“I can hold my own, Mom. You raised me right. I mostly don’t let things like that bother me. But I do have to work at it, and for him, it just is.”
“I think I hear an ‘and’. Do I?”
Mary let herself, for just a moment, feel and sound just plain grumpy. “He’s too big. He’s too distant. He’s too serious. He’s too rich. In his own element, he’s too debonair.”
“Too suave, as well, huh?” Helen smiled a little as she mangled the French word into rhyming with grave. “I don’t think the real answer is any of those things.”
Mary slumped back in her garden chair. “I think you’re right. Maybe I’ve just lost faith we’ll ever get it right.” She smiled, in a wan, watery way. “I guess I’mthefirstwomaninourfamilywhoditchedtheguy before he could ditch her.”
“I guess you are,” Helen said.
Mary’s face crumpled. Her throat closed up. Her nose ran, and her eyes flooded. Helen opened her arms wide. Mary buckled into them.
“Oh, Mom. It should be so simple. You love somebody. He should love you. You should both love enough. Why does love have to be so hard?”
“I don’t know, honey. I don’t know.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Busy Bodies
L
URKING IN THE PARKhad a certain appeal to it, Brock decided two weeks later as his senses jazzed toward the high gear that might be required of them. Van would come along the path soon. Brock and Mr. Kazinski, seated at attention on a park bench, had to be ready. Would be ready.
The older men and their ladies had decided two weeks were plenty of time to mope, and now it was time for the kids to patch things up. The pair of them didn’t seem to know how to do it, however. The conspirators were quite willing to take over.
“Keep a close eye out now,” Brock said. “The boy should be along any minute.”
“No,no,I’mnottakinganyjoyinthis.”Mr.Kazinski, whose spindly legs, which might have been about as long as Brock’s waist was round, were folded cross-legged on the far side of the park bench from Brock, balancing his lethal cane.
Brock sighed. Conspiracy was hard to handle when one of the plotters was hard of hearing.
“I am always happy to help your wife, of course,” Mr. Kazinski continued. “And my Inge and I are very fond of Mary and Van. There’s no joy here. Not until we know we’ve succeeded in getting the youngsters back together again.”
