Chapter 100
She sent me to Ashley's room. I snuggled down into bed in the Pepto-Bismol colored room and fell asleep, so numb I barely felt the tears falling down my cheeks.
Hours later, I heard a rustle of noise. I squinted into the a.s.saulting late afternoon light. Ashley stood next to the bed, watching me.
"Hey, sweetie," I said, still groggy from sleep.
"You look like Sleeping Beauty," she whispered.
"Thanks, Ash. Come snuggle me."
I laid on my side and she climbed in, pressing her back into my stomach. I nuzzled her wispy-fine hair and inhaled the scent of baby shampoo. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pulled her closer.
"Tell me a story, Aunt Rose." She clasped her hands over mine. The tenderness of the gesture poked my heart, reminding me that if I were convicted of Momma's murder I would spend years in prison. I would never have children.
"A story?" I asked, trying to refocus as fresh tears burned my eyes.
"About a princess and a prince."
I spun an elaborate tale about a prince lost in the woods, but rescued by a princess galloping by on her goat. The princess then helped the prince, who had lost his pet frog, which they found in the company of a rabbit family in a carrot patch. When the frog was found, the prince returned to his castle and the princess left on a quest to find the fabled, yet much coveted, magic red shoes.
"That's not like the princess stories on TV," she said, giggling.
"No, it's not. But don't let other people tell you who you're supposed to be. You just be you, even if you don't do things like everybody else."
She turned, and reached her hand to my cheek. "Like you, Aunt Rose? You're not like everybody else."
Looking into those deep blue eyes, I realized it was time to take my own advice. For better or worse, I was me. I had visions of people, whether they-or I-wanted them. I had to accept them and learn to make the best of it. And just as suddenly, I realized I had lost a lot of living, twenty-four years' worth, squandered in my fear, embarra.s.sment, and self-pity. I didn't want to go from one prison to another without living at least a little. If I was going to jail, I planned to fit in all the living I could first.
I smiled into Ashley's sweet little face and felt a vision coming, as if on cue. This time I accepted it and without my usual resistance, the vision lasted longer than any I'd ever had before. I was in the funeral home. Violet was crying and leaning into Mike. They stood next to a casket with an open lid. I walked slowly toward it, fear gripping my heart. I was short since I was looking through Ashley's eyes and I couldn't see over the side. Mike picked Ashley up and I stared down into the casket.
It was me.
I looked peaceful and serene lying in the casket, like I was taking a nap. Violet stood next to Mike, openly sobbing now. I felt nothing as I watched, a void of any feeling, as though I was already dead. I glanced around the room and saw a sign on an easel with my picture on top and wording underneath.
Rose Anne Gardner Born October 8, 1986 Died June 12, 2011 Then I was back on Ashley's bed, looking into her smiling face.
"I'm going to die," I whispered.
"Like Snow White?" Ashley asked in excitement. "Are you going to eat a poisoned apple?"
"I don't know," I said, the corners of my mouth lifting into a sad smile.
"Will your prince come wake you up, Aunt Rose?"
"No, Ashley, that's make believe. Princes don't do that in real life."
"Hmm..." she said, lying on her back.
I was grateful she was four years old and didn't comprehend the meaning of my words.
I was gonna die.
Suddenly, prison looked pretty good.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
There's something freeing about knowing the date of your death. All your fears of living vanish away. Worried you'll be in a car wreck? Afraid you'll fall off a roof and plummet to your death? Unless it was June twelfth, I had nothing to worry about.
It was also strange, like somewhere a big digital display counted down the moments until I died. I didn't know the time, but I knew the day. I had less than a week left and I was done frittering my life away.
Where did I start? What did I do? The list, of course. All the things I'd always wanted to do but was too afraid to try. Twenty-three tasks left to accomplish in five days. Why was I wasting time in Ashley's bed?
I scrambled up, kissing Ashley on the forehead. "Aunt Rose has to go home, Ashy!"
When I bolted down the hall, Violet looked like I had just announced plans to join the circus. "Where are you going?"
"Home," I said, grabbing my purse.
"What? You can't go there! What if someone tries to break in again?" Her voice rose in panic.
I yanked her into a tight hug. "It's okay, Violet. I'll be all right." I didn't add for another five days anyway. No sense worrying her any more than necessary.
"But, Rose..."
"I love you, Violet!" I yelled over my shoulder and headed to my car.
I tried to remember my list, hoping to do something on the way home. Get cable... I picked up my cell phone and found the number for the cable company. They said they'd send someone to install it the next day. I had to ask off work to meet the cable
Get my own place... Violet said she would sell the house to me, so that made it mine. Two items just like that. Maybe this would be easier than I thought.
As I drove through downtown, I noticed a pickup truck stopped at the edge of the park. The tailgate hung open and a large metal cage sat in the gra.s.s. A puppy romped next to it.
Get a dog.
I turned around and drove back to the truck, parking to the side of it. A family with two small children played with the puppy. A bigger dog, but not by much, sulked in the corner of the cage when I walked up.
"Can we get him, Daddy?" the little boy asked the man who appeared torn.
He bent over, rubbing the back of the puppy's neck. "Well..."
The boy and his younger brother began a chorus of pleases that would have softened the staunchest of men. The father caved.
I watched it all transpire, taking delight in the children's happiness. The way the puppy's owner kept glancing at me I realized I probably looked like some kind of child predator standing there.
"Is that your last dog?" I asked, looping my hand around the strap of my purse.
"That's my last puppy. I've only got the mother left. She's just a mutt, though. n.o.body wants her. I was gonna drop her off at the shelter on my way home."
I looked down at the whimpering dog in the cage. She was small, definitely a mutt and not cute like her offspring. Her gray and black fur was short and wiry. She had short legs, a long body, and pointy ears and snout. She looked like a cross between a terrier and a rat.
"Can I see her?"
The owner looked at me like I'd lost my mind, which I supposed I had. I knelt down. "What's her name?"
"m.u.f.fy."
"Come here, m.u.f.fy," I beckoned, patting the ground. "Come here, sweet girl."
The dog crept toward me, her head hunkered down and her tail between her legs. She stopped at the opening of the cage. I stroked her neck and behind her ears. She cautiously left the cage and sat next to me while I continued to pet her.
"She's a good dog," the owner said. "She's scared of other dogs, which don't work out so well on my farm. In fact, she's pretty much scared of everythin'. I'm surprised she came out of the cage to you. She don't normally take to strangers."
m.u.f.fy's sad eyes looked up at me. My tummy tightened with empathy. We were a lot alike, m.u.f.fy and I, both afraid of the world and what was in it.
"How much is she?" I asked, taking the sides of her face into my hands.
"I ain't gonna charge you nothin', you can just have her. Like I said, I was gonna take her to the pound, although, honestly, I didn't want to do that. She just showed up at my farm one day and had a litter of pups a couple days later. I kept her and the pups until they was ready to go."
"What do you say, m.u.f.fy? Wanna come home with me?" I could have sworn she wagged her tail, or she may have moved it to pa.s.s gas, which was highly probable from the stench suddenly filling the air. I decided to go with the wag.
I tried coaxing her into the car without much success. Finally, I scooped her up, surprised to find her lighter than she looked, and plopped her into the driver's seat. She peered up at me.
"You gonna drive? That'd be a sight. A driving dog. What? No? Then scoot over." But she didn't budge, so I sat on the edge of the seat and pushed her over to the pa.s.senger side with my hip.
The farmer loaded up the cage, laughing.
"We're puttin' on a show, m.u.f.fy. Let's go home and get some dinner."
I drove with the windows halfway down. m.u.f.fy stuck her face over the top of the gla.s.s, her tongue hanging out. I prayed she didn't get carsick.
When I pulled up, I noticed Joe's car in his driveway. Why're you even looking? That man was a confusing mess. I only had five days left. Instinct told me that wasn't nearly enough time to figure out Joe McAllister.
I carried m.u.f.fy into the house. After I set her down on the kitchen floor, she began sniffing everything while I rummaged through the refrigerator for dinner. I couldn't remember the last time I went to the grocery store.
"Whatcha want for dinner, m.u.f.fy? There's not much here."
m.u.f.fy didn't answer. She turned around in circles, then sat in the corner of the kitchen behind the table. She laid her head on her front paws and stared up at me. I'd never seen such a pathetic sight in all my life.
I made scrambled eggs and fed half to m.u.f.fy, half to me. Afterward, m.u.f.fy got a really strange look on her face. Uncle Earl had made a face like that after eating a batch of bad pickles once and that didn't turn out so well. I ran to my bedroom and found a belt, which I strapped around m.u.f.fy's middle section. I was afraid I'd choke her if I put it around her neck.
We barely made it outside before m.u.f.fy squatted next to a bush and made the nastiest mess I had ever seen. Talk about false advertising. They forget to mention that part of pet owners.h.i.+p in the dog food commercials.
"Feel better?" I asked m.u.f.fy in a baby voice. "I promise to take good care of you in the five days I have left." It was then I realized in five days I wouldn't be around to take care of her. I'd been a pet owner for less than an hour and I was already failing miserably.
"What do you mean you only have five days left?"
I whipped my head around to see Joe a few feet away.
c.r.a.ppy doodles.
He looked angry. Not just angry, menacing.
"Where you goin' in five days, Rose?"
"Nowhere. Not that it's any of your business, Joe McAllister."
He heaved a sigh and kicked a piece of gravel. "You're right, of course. What you do is none of my business." Then he stood next to me, whispering in my ear. "You seem like a nice girl, Rose, I hate to see you mixed up in something really messy."
His breath sent chills down my back, all the way to my toes. How could this man do this to me? What on earth was he talking about? Then I realized he was looking toward the dog and the huge pile she just made.
"I admit it was kind of impulsive to get into such a commitment, but I think I can handle it."
Joe stepped away, his eyes wide open, like he'd stepped into a pit of rattlesnakes. "So you admit you're involved?"
"Well, yeah. The evidence is right in front of you." I tugged on m.u.f.fy's belt. "Come on, m.u.f.fy. Let's go in the back." I yanked and pulled and ended up dragging her to the backyard. Unfortunately, Joe followed me.
"What are you thinking, Rose? Do you realize what kind of trouble you've got yourself into?"
"Joe, seriously, it's not that big of a deal. Lots of people do it."
He raised his hands to his head and groaned, spinning around in frustration. He stopped and looked more serious than I had ever seen him, even more than the night Momma was murdered. "I've got to get you out of this. Maybe it's not too late."
I huffed and stamped my foot. "You seriously think I can't handle a dog? Do I appear that irresponsible?"
Joe turned as pale as a ghost and I expected him to fold up and float away any minute. "A dog?" he choked out. "You're talking about a dog?"
"I know dogs are lots of trouble but I've always wanted one and I figured, why not? I'm a grown woman."
Joe looked torn between guilt and relief.
I c.o.c.ked my head to the side and studied him. "Wait, what were you talkin' about?"
An ornery grin lifted one corner of his mouth as he lifted an eyebrow and darted his eyes toward m.u.f.fy. "You call that thing a dog? Looks like a ginormous rat to me." And what on earth do you have around that poor creature's gut?"
I took offense to him insulting my dog and put my hand on my hip, glaring. "First of all, she is not a rat; she is a dog. Granted she's not some pedigreed foofoo dog, but she's my dog. And second, it all happened so fast, I didn't have time to get her any supplies, so I put a belt around her to bring her out. I was afraid she's run away."
"Why's it around her stomach and not her neck?"
"I was worried I'd choke her."
Joe snickered. "That is the ugliest dog I have ever seen."