Текст книги "The Good Neighbor"

Автор книги: Kimberley A. Bettes

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Watching her now, I was pretty sure she was inviting me over. Her shorts were short. Her top was tight. Yeah, she was asking for it, alright.

I decided that perhaps later tonight, after all the nosy bastards on this street went to sleep, I’d slip over to her place and give her a little bit of ol’ Bernie Bear.

4 Owen

I rang the doorbell at Carla’s house and hoped she answered quickly, leaving me no chance to change my mind. It had taken me two days to convince myself of what I’d known all along. After mulling over Jill’s words, I realized that she was right. It was time. But I still wasn’t sure I should be here. Even if this was the right time and the right thing to do, was this the right person? Maybe I should just go home and forget the whole thing.

Before I could talk myself into turning and leaving, Carla threw open the door and smiled.

“Hey. Come in,” she said happily, standing back so I could enter. After she closed the door behind me, she asked, “What’s up?”

I looked down at her and tried not to notice how sexy she looked, though she wasn’t trying. She hadn’t meant to look sexy this morning when she’d thrown on a t-shirt with faded writing, or when she’d slid into a pair of faded jean shorts. And I’m sure she’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail in a hurry, not realizing how sexy it was that some wisps of hair had fallen loose.

“I wanted to stop by and see if you needed help with anything. You know how movers can be. They throw it in the house, you move it yourself later.”

She laughed. “That’s true. They were great, though. They put everything where I told them to. I wish they’d stuck around and unpacked for me. That’s what I’ve been doing all day.” She began walking away, asking, “You want something to drink? I just made some lemonade. The kids’ favorite.”

I followed her into the kitchen, where she poured two glasses of lemonade and set them on the table. We sat and drank.

“So where are the kids?” I asked.

“They’re out back playing on the swing set. They love it here. In Dallas, we lived in an apartment, so they didn’t have a yard. Even if we had, it would’ve been too dangerous for them to be out by themselves like this. It’s nice to be able to relax and not worry so much about them. I think they like the extra freedom too. It’s all I can do to get them to come in at night.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely more relaxed here.”

Neither of said anything for a few minutes. I noticed that even without makeup, she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

Finally, she asked, “What do you do?”

“I own a construction business.”

“Are you on vacation or something? I mean, it’s the middle of a work day.” She smiled. “I know it’s not my business and I don’t want to be nosy...”

“No. It’s fine. I don’t go into work anymore. I used to, but I haven’t been in to the office in about a year now. If there’s anything I need to do, I do it from home.” I hadn’t been to work since Holly left. I couldn’t stand the questions or the pity that I would receive there. To change the subject and because I wanted to know, I asked, “What about you?”

“Well, in Dallas, I was a secretary. But now, Aunt Elaine left me healthy amount of money. I think I’m going to stay at home with the kids for a while. See what that’s like.” She smiled at me, and I got chills. Funny how I could get chills when my heart had been warmed. “What about the other people on this street? What do they do?” She put her elbow on the table, folded her hand into a fist, and rested her chin on it.

I leaned back in my chair. “Well, let’s see. There’s Andy and Jill. They live on this side of me. Andy’s my best friend. They’re both really great people. Jill’s a librarian, and Andy works at a factory over in the Industrial Park. His crew works swing shift.”

“Swing shift? What’s that?”

“He works two weeks on the day shift and two weeks on the night shift. It’s weird, but he likes it.”

“He’s the red-haired guy?”

“Yeah. Jill’s the short, blond. They look mismatched, but trust me when I say that they’re perfect for each other.”

“Do they have any kids?”

I shook my head. I could see the disappointment on her face. She was hoping for playmates for her children, naturally. I hadn’t realized until now that there weren’t any children on Hewitt Street.

“On my other side, is a retired chef named Louis. If you ever see him, you’ll know immediately who he is. He’s a large man. He’s not home much, though. He travels a lot, mostly abroad.” I got up and walked over to her pots and pans which were hanging above her island. I looked through them and pulled a large skillet from its hook. Holding it up to show her, I said, “This is his.”

She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to the signature across the bottom of the skillet. “This is Louis’ signature. This is from his line of cookware. He also has several cookbooks on the market.” I replaced the skillet and returned to the table.

“Wow. A famous chef lives across the street. That’s awesome.” She was very excited about this, so I didn’t want to remind her that she may never see or meet him. I enjoyed her excitement too much to dash it. She stared across the room at her stainless steel pots and pans for a while before giving me her attention again.

“Who else is there?”

“Directly across the street from Louis, is an empty house. There was an elderly couple lived there until last year. They passed away within days of each other. It’s been empty since.”

“That’s sad,” she said.

“Next to that house, right across the street from me, is Mr. Jenson. He’s a reclusive man. He looks to be in his sixties or seventies. No wife, no visitors. He keeps to himself. We don’t know much about him. He’s lived here a couple years.” I didn’t tell her about his mysterious bags. I was trying to assure her that living here was going to be great. Telling her that Jenson could be carrying bodies out of his house in a trash bags would only scare her.

“And between him and you, is Bernie Patterson. I hope you haven’t met him yet.”

“Why?” She raised her eyebrows as she asked.

“Let’s just say, Bernie’s single, and looking to not be.”

She nodded, understanding what I meant.

“He’s getting pretty desperate these days. He spends all his free time at bars, looking. I’ve seen him bring a few of those women home. It looked like he’d scraped the bottom of the barrel if you know what I mean. It wasn’t those ladies’ first time coming home with a guy they met at a bar. He seems so desperate to find someone, and so lonely. I feel bad for him.”

She took our empty glasses to the sink and rinsed them. I did what I could to not watch, but I only have so much will power. She was so attractive without even trying. And it didn’t seem that she knew how beautiful she was. I couldn’t help but wonder about the kids’ father. I didn’t know the story, but I couldn’t imagine anyone leaving someone so sweet and so beautiful and so kind.

Of course, they say you never really know someone until you live with them. And even then, you never really know them.

“So no one in the neighborhood has kids?” I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

“No. But I don’t know everybody. I just know the people immediately around me. You know, the people I see all the time. I don’t know anyone on the streets around us. I guess I’ve been a bit of a recluse myself lately.” I sure hoped she wouldn’t inquire as to why I’d become such a recluse, not even going to work.

She faced me, leaning against the sink. “So you didn’t say who lives across the street from me.”

“Oh. That’s Hazel, the sweetest lady you could ever hope to meet. She’s eighty, I think. She’s a widow.” In a voice you would use telling a campfire ghost story, I said, “If you get too close to her house, she’ll feed you. To death, if you let her.” We both laughed.

She thought for a moment. “Want a tour?”

“Sure.” I’d never been farther than the kitchen when I’d help Elaine carry in groceries.

After maneuvering around boxes for the tour, she asked me to stay for dinner. I declined at first, telling her I didn’t want to be any trouble. She assured me that was silly, because she had to make dinner anyway.

“We have to eat whether or not you’re here, so you might as well stay and eat with us.”

I got the impression she didn’t want me to leave. Unable to think of a reason to go, and not really wanting one, I agreed to stay.

She introduced me to the kids as they came inside to clean up for dinner. The boy, Ethan, was handsome and very well-mannered for only five years old. His sister, Shelby, was every bit as beautiful as her mother. Two years older than Ethan, Shelby watched after her brother and mothered him as if he were her own child.

It was nice to be with them, sitting at the table, eating dinner as if we were a family. I realized suddenly how crazy it was for me to think such things. I didn’t know them well enough to think like that. I didn’t know if Carla wanted me to have such thoughts. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to have such thoughts. Yes, I’d decided that enough was enough already with the moping, but had I decided that I was ready for such radical notions as a family?

My thoughts must’ve shown on my face because Carla was looking at me, worried. She didn’t question me until later, after we had loaded the dishwasher.

She spun to face me. “Alright, Owen, spill it.”

I opened my mouth to deny that there was anything to spill, but she didn’t let me speak. Instead, she took my arm in her hand and led me to the living room where we sat on the couch.

“I know something’s bothering you. I can see it on your face. I told you I’m a good listener. And I’m all ears.” She was facing me, legs folded beneath her. She put her elbow on the back of the couch and propped her head up with it.

I told her everything from coming home after work one day to find my wife leaving me, to Jill telling me to plug the hole. My falling apart, my depression, the way I couldn’t stand to be in my house. I told her all of it. Well, I told her most of it. Some things were meant to remain unsaid.

“And you still wear the ring.” She reached over and picked up my left hand, holding it gently in hers. As she twisted my ring around my finger, it was hard to remember why I’d kept it on so long. “That’s sweet. And sad.” She continued to stare at the ring as she spun it around my finger, lost in thought.

I had a few thoughts of my own. I’d never been this close to her. I’d never been this close to anyone other than Holly, as a matter of fact. Holly and I had begun dating in high school, and I’d never been with anyone else. I don’t mean emotionally close, but physically close.

My heart was pounding. The scent of her perfume was delicate and intoxicating. I breathed through my nose, trying to memorize the smell. Her skin was soft and every bit as delicate as her scent. As I watched her slender fingers spin the ring that was placed on my hand by a woman who obviously never loved me, I was overcome by the urge to rip the ring off and flush it down the toilet with all the dreams I’d had of growing old with Holly. Of course, if I wasn’t wearing it, she wouldn’t be holding my hand and her knee wouldn’t be resting against mine.

“Think you’ll ever take it off?” she asked, resting her head against the back of the couch.

“I’m sure I will. I think it’s time.” She stopped spinning my ring, but didn’t let go of my hand. She absentmindedly caressed my fingers lightly. “So what about you? How’d you become a single mom?”

“I loved a man who loved himself.” I heard the pain in her voice as she spoke. “We were married for nine years. I gave him everything I had, only to find out he was giving all he had to someone else. Then, I found out it wasn’t the first time he’d cheated on me. It crushed me. But I have kids to think about, so I divorced him and went on with my life as if he’d never been a part of it.” She looked at me, still holding my hand. “There’ll come a point when you do the same.”

I squeezed her hand slightly. I knew she was right. I could feel that point rapidly approaching.

“I better go,” I said, standing. “It’s getting late.”

Carla stood with me. “Do you have to go so soon?”

“Yeah, Andy will be leaving for work soon. He’ll want to give me some crap, I’m sure.”

“About being here?” I could see by the smile she wore that she knew it would be about her.

I nodded and we laughed. She walked me to the door. I turned to her and thanked her for feeding and listening to me. She assured me it was a pleasure to do both, and begged me to come back soon. I told her I would, and after a quick thought about kissing her, I left with the kiss as no more than a thought.

As I neared my house, I heard someone whistle. It was dark even with the streetlights on, and I couldn’t see the whistler, but I had no doubt who it was.

“Boy, I do believe you got a little spring in your step.”

I stopped in Andy’s driveway where he was leaned against his car. “You’re out early,” I said casually, folding my arms across my chest.

“Came to keep you company, but I didn’t know you were keeping company at Carla’s.” He chuckled. “How’d it go?”

“You make it sound like I was running some sort of secret operation. We had a nice visit. I met her kids. We had dinner. We talked a little. That was it.” I walked over and leaned against his car beside him.

“Well, you better get in there before Bernie does.”

“Bernie won’t get in there, whatever that means.”

“As soon as he lays eyes on her, he’ll quit barhopping. Why go fishing when there’s fish in the freezer?”

I laughed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means why would he want to go to the bar when he can hit on the pretty, young, single mother next door? She’s easy prey. You watch. You’ll see. Hey,” Andy said, changing the subject. “Speaking of you seeing, you see Jenson today?”

I thought for a second. I shook my head. “Haven’t seen him all day. You worried?”

“Nope. Just wondering.” Neither of us spoke for a while. Finally, Andy asked, “You think you two are going to hook up?”

“Have you been reading love poems? You sure know the language,” I said sarcastically.

“Fine,” he laughed. “Do you fancy courting her? Is that romantic enough for you?”

“It’s better,” I said, laughing. Then I shrugged. “I don’t know. I like her. I guess she likes me. But she just moved in, Andy. Good grief. The girl’s not even unpacked yet. Geez, give her time to get settled before you start trying to marry her off.”

“Hey, I just don’t want you two to be a younger version of Hazel and Jenson. Single people living across the street, but nothing ever happening. I’d have to move. I can’t live in the midst of so much sexual tension.”

“Sexual tension? Hazel and Jenson? Are you serious?”

“Well, they’re both older, single people. No reason they can’t hook up.”

“No reason, huh? Jenson’s weird. Hazel’s so sweet. I don’t see it.”

“They both keep to themselves. Shouldn’t they keep to themselves together?” he asked.

“Is it really keeping to yourself if you’re doing it with someone else?”

He laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. I was just saying you should go out with Carla. It’d do you some good. I know Jill kind of already told you that.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling your wife everything. If I ever kill somebody, you’ll be the last person I tell.”

We laughed.

5 Owen

With Andy gone to work, I sat on the porch alone for a while thinking, mostly about Carla. I kept finding myself looking at her house. I imagined her in there, reading to the kids before they fell asleep. Then, I imagined her getting ready for bed.

I stopped myself before that line of thought went too far.

I decided to turn in for the night. I didn’t figure sleep would come easily, but I was prepared to try. I made my way upstairs slowly, preoccupied with thoughts of the single mother. I brushed my teeth, wondering if she was doing the same. I used the restroom and washed my hands. I stripped down to my underwear, wondering what she wore to bed. Then, I slid under the covers, trying to guess what side of the bed she slept on.

I lay awake, thinking. Carla and Jill were both right. I had to move on. It was time. I took my wedding ring off and laid it on my nightstand. I knew it was only a figment of my imagination, but my hand felt lighter. I flexed the fingers of my left hand to determine if taking off the ring really had made such a difference. I couldn’t be sure.

I touched the groove the ring left behind with the fingers of my right hand and wondered if there would ever again be a ring there. It was hard to imagine anyone else ever placing a ring on my finger while the memory of Holly doing so was deeply engraved on my mind.

I pushed thoughts of Holly from my head. The time for thinking of her was over. She’d had her time in my life. She’d thrown it away. It was time to think of someone else, someone with whom I could have a future, not a past.

I fell asleep thinking of Carla.

The next morning, I awoke with more energy than I had in a while. I felt younger, more alive. I knew there were only two reasons for this change. The first reason was my decision to push forward with my life. I had turned the last page on the final chapter in the book that was my life with Holly. That story had ended. Now I was turning the first page of the first chapter in a story that would hopefully have a happy ending. It was the story of my life with Carla, the reason for my newfound energy and youthful feeling. It truly did feel like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t feel as though I were walking down the stairs, but floating down them.

I whistled while I made toast. After breakfast, I headed to the porch. It was no longer because I hated being inside my house, trapped with the memories of Holly. It was out of habit more than anything. Also, from my porch, I could see Carla’s house.

I sat in my chair just as Andy was pulling in his driveway. I knew there would be no escaping a visit from him this morning. He’d had all night to come up more questions.

As I’d predicted, he came over and plopped in the chair beside me.

“Clouds are bright this morning, huh?” I asked, indicating the dark shades he wore in spite of the heavy clouds that hung low in the sky.

He took them off, folded them, and hooked them in the neck of his t-shirt where they hung down his chest. He laughed. “I forgot I had those on.”

I looked at him, clearly puzzled. “But why did you put them on at all? It’s been cloudy all morning.”

Without looking at me, he said, “I had a headache. The light made it worse. Has Jenson been out this morning?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

We both sat staring at Jenson’s house without speaking. I didn’t know what was going on in his head, but in mine, I kept thinking of how weird it was to see someone wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day. It was as weird as wearing them at night.

The sound of children playing caused me to turn my attention to Carla’s house, which Andy didn’t fail to notice.

“You going to her place later?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If she wants me to.”

He laughed. “Of course she wants you to, man.”

“You don’t know that. Besides, I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

“Well, if you don’t get in there, Bernie will. And he’ll wear out more than just his welcome, if you know what I mean.”

“God, Andy. You kiss your wife with that mouth?” I teased.

“Yeah, and she begs me for more.” He laughed, heartily. I shook my head, embarrassed.

It was then that Jenson came outside, again dragging an apparently heavy large, black trash bag. We watched him in silence for a while. He seemed to not notice he was being watched. Or he simply didn’t care that he had an audience.

He wore a dark brown cardigan and tan slacks, cuffed above a pair of worn brown loafers. His wispy white hair blew in the breeze as he slowly made his way down the steps and across the lawn to his car. One hand still holding onto the bag, he fished a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the trunk. It was all he could do to hoist the bag off the ground and wrestle it into the trunk. Once the bag was safely inside and the lid closed, he rested his hands on the back of the car, clearly taking a moment to catch his breath. He then shuffled his way to the front of the car. He got in the driver’s seat and moments later, he slowly backed out of the driveway and drove away.

Andy and I looked at each other.

“What the hell is in those bags?” Andy asked. I could only shake my head. “They’re always heavy. How can one old man have such heavy trash?”

“Maybe it’s not that the trash is heavy,” I suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s old. Maybe he’s just weak.”

Andy thought about that for a moment. “Why doesn’t he use smaller bags so he won’t have to struggle so much? He doesn’t struggle with his white bags.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe his trash won’t fit in a smaller bag.”

“He’s a little old man who lives alone. How much trash could he possibly accumulate in one week? What could he have over there – some soup cans, maybe some bread wrappers or something? Light stuff. But he’s always carrying out these enormous bags, filled with something so heavy, it’s a struggle for him. I don’t get it.”

We paused to ponder the mystery.

“How often does he take out a bag?” I asked, trying to solve the puzzle.

Andy snorted, “You know more than I do. You’re out here all the time.”

That was true. I tried to remember if I’d noticed a pattern in the days Jenson took the bags to wherever he took them. I was coming up empty. After a year of sitting on a porch directly across the street, a year of watching him, I hadn’t really paid any attention to him. Sure, I’d seen him. I’d noticed him enough at the time to talk to Andy about it. But I hadn’t noticed enough to recollect anything. No patterns were clear in my mind. I only knew a lot of heavy black bags had came out of his house, been put in his trunk, and been driven away.

We sat on the porch for another hour or so before Jenson came back. We watched in silence again as he made his way out of the car and into the house.

“I’m dying to know what he’s doing,” Andy said in frustration. “We need to keep track of what days he does this, see if we can figure out a pattern or a schedule.” He stood to leave. “And, hey, think about what I said before about us following him once. I’m starting to lose sleep wondering what’s going on.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s what Dahmer’s neighbors thought too.”

Andy wasn’t going to let this rest until we knew what Jenson was doing. As I realized this, I sighed deeply and went in to mark the calendar that hung in the kitchen. I simply put the letter j on today’s square. I wondered how long I’d have to do this, how many j’s would be on this calendar before a pattern emerged. What if a pattern never emerged? What if it was all random? Well, I knew the answer to that. Andy would make me follow Jenson one day. I shuddered at the thought of stalking an old man.

After grabbing a soda from the refrigerator, I returned to the porch, where I quickly saw I wasn’t alone.

6 Owen

“Were you two watching Mr. Jenson?” she asked, occupying the seat Andy had just vacated.

Blushing slightly, I said, “Sort of.”

“Why?” she crossed her right leg over her left in a swift motion and I tried not to notice.

Taking my seat, I said, “He’s sort of a mystery to us. It’s killing Andy.” I popped the top on my soda and offered it to her. She declined.

“What kind of mystery?” asked Carla.

I considered the reasons why I shouldn’t tell her, but couldn’t think of a single one. I told her about the heavy bags. She listened intently as I described how he never had visitors and wasn’t social with anyone on the street. When I said it had been this way since he’d moved in two years earlier, her eyebrows drew together in suspicion.

“Why are you looking like that?” I asked her.

“I was just thinking.”

When she hesitated, I asked, “About what?”

“Well, it seems like a lot of things have happened here in the last two years.” She looked down at her wrist, fiddling with her bracelet. I could tell by the way she bit her lower lip she was concentrating.

I didn’t say anything. I just watched her. It was cooler out today, so she’d traded in her shorts and sandals for jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and athletic shoes. Her hair fell down around her shoulders, framing her face. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but I found her even more beautiful today than yesterday. Yesterday, she’d been beautiful. Today, she was mesmerizing.

“Didn’t you say Mr. Jenson moved in a couple years ago?” she asked, still twisting her bracelet around her wrist.

“Yeah,” I said, unable to take my eyes off her. “Uh, I think he moved in...two and a half years ago, I guess it was.” I thought back, trying to pinpoint when exactly he’d come to Hewitt Street.

“And didn’t you say the old couple passed away last January?”

“Yeah,” I said, watching her connect the dots. I didn’t know what the picture would be, but the line was leading to Jenson. The line always led to Jenson.

“And my Aunt Elaine was last February...” she said, trailing off at the end.

“So you think Jenson...what – killed them?” I asked.

“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that a lot of things have happened since he moved in. I don’t know if he had anything to do with any of it, but it is odd.” She rested her head against the back of the chair and turned her face toward me. Quietly, she said, “I shouldn’t have come here.”

I set my soda on the table and turned to her. I held her left hand firmly between both of mine and looked at her with more intensity than was probably necessary.

“Listen, Carla. You and your kids will be fine here. I’ll personally make sure nothing happens to any of you. Whether or not it’s all a coincidence, you will be safe here. Please don’t think you shouldn’t have come.” I smiled to assure her. “I’m glad you came.” I couldn’t tell her that her moving here had led to a pivotal moment in my life. If she hadn’t come, I might not have decided to put Holly behind me where she belonged.

“I just don’t want to put my kids in harm’s way. If anything were to happen to either of them...”

I didn’t give her time to ponder the horrible things she was surely about to consider. “Look, I have nothing else to do. I’ll watch your place, if you want. I kind of do that anyway,” I admitted.

“What?” she asked, unsure what emotion she should feel about my little revelation.

I quickly added, “Not in the creepy stalker kind of way, but in the good neighbor way. Besides, I have to make sure Bernie isn’t trying to move in with you.”

She laughed. “I owe you then.”

“No, you owe me nothing. I’m happy to do it.”

She stood up and came over, stopping in front of me. How far could she get with me still holding her hand? Feeling a little silly, I stood and reluctantly let go of her soft hand.

“I don’t want you to think I do this with every guy I meet,” she said shyly. “But you seem like a great guy, and you’ve been so helpful.”

Before I could prepare for it, she stretched up and planted a kiss on my cheek. I was aware of a lot of things at once. The way her soft lips felt against my cheek, the light touch of her hands as they held onto my arms, and the feel of her breasts as they grazed my chest ever so lightly. I fought myself to not turn and kiss her.

“That’s me thanking you for watching out for us. And to thank you further, I’d like you to come to dinner tonight.”

I breathlessly accepted her invitation, but assured her again that she didn’t need to thank me. I really was more than happy to keep her safe. Whether it was from murderers or perverts, I wanted to protect her.

As I watched her walk down the street, I had a rush of emotions I hadn’t had in years. I was excited, nervous, happy, and scared to death all at the same time. I didn’t know if getting involved with her was a good idea, but I knew that it was going to happen. If she didn’t want it to happen, she wouldn’t be so inviting with me. I noticed she wasn’t inviting other neighbors over for dinner. And if I didn’t want it to happen, I wouldn’t be accepting her invitations. I wasn’t having dinner with other neighbors, either. The signs were clearly there.

The day seemed to drag by after that.

As I walked to Carla’s that evening, I thought about what she’d said. There really had been a lot of things happen since Jenson had moved in. It was one hell of a coincidence. And Jenson was odd. I wasn’t the only one who thought he was odd. I knew Andy and Jill thought so. Hazel would never say a bad word about anyone. Louis was never home. Bernie was too wrapped up in finding himself a woman. I supposed it was just Andy, Jill, Carla, and me that noticed.

Such a quiet neighborhood for so much bloodshed. Maybe Carla should move. Maybe we all should.

7 Owen

I shooed the neighborhood dog to go away while waiting for Carla to open the door. Instead of leaving, he walked a circle and lay down in the corner of the porch next to Bernie’s house, under the porch swing. Before I could insist further that he leave, Carla opened the door.

“Whose is he?” she asked.

“He kind of belongs to us all. He’s a stray that roams around here. He’s a good dog, though. No one minds.” The dog licked his lips, as if to confirm.

“What’s his name?”

“Oscar.”

Saying nothing, she turned and disappeared into the house. I wasn’t sure if I should follow, so I stayed where I was, debating. Seconds later, she came back, carrying a hamburger patty.

“Here you go, Oscar,” she said, bending down and giving him the patty. Oscar’s tail thumped against the porch as he happily ate the warm meat. Turning to me, she said, “Shall we go in and eat?”

“You know, you just made a friend for life there. Friendly face, warm food, cozy porch. He may never leave,” I said to Carla as she walked past me and into the house. I looked at Oscar, who returned my gaze. I swear I detected a smirk on his face. Maybe I was just assuming he was smirking. That’s what Andy would’ve done.

Carla laughed.

We ate the burgers over great conversation. The kids were telling me stories about friends they had in Dallas. Carla watched, smiling and occasionally giggling.