Marion Lennox - Misty and the Single Dad

‘I can look after Ketchup on my own.’

‘He likes me.’

‘I know he does,’ she said. She stooped and hugged Bailey, then lifted Ketchup into her arms. ‘But Ketchup’s my dog. Your dad’s paid his bills and that’s all the help I’ll ask. I look after Gran and I look after Ketchup. I can’t look after anyone else. I’m sorry, but you and your dad are on your own.’

SHE needed to visit Gran. She needed to find her balance.

Once Nick and Bailey were out of sight she settled Ketchup back into her car. He’d be best off sleeping in his basket at home, but every time she walked away he started shaking.

She could worry about Ketchup. She couldn’t worry about Bailey and his father.

She couldn’t think about Bailey’s father.

Was it only yesterday she’d been celebrating Adonis arriving in her classroom? One touch and her equilibrium was shattered.

Think about the dog. Much, much safer.

‘You’ve sucked me in,’ she murmured. ‘Where did you come from, and how exposed have you made me? Oh, Ketchup.’

But he hadn’t made her exposed-he’d simply shown her what life was. Yurts were fantasy. Ketchup was real.

Bailey was real.

She was a total sucker.

‘I’m sorry, but you and your dad are on your own.’ She’d watched Bailey’s face as she’d said it and she’d seen him become…stoical.

She’d been stoical at six. For all her bravado about not needing her mother…surviving on postcards had hardly been survival at all.

She’d ached to go with her. Other kids had mothers. She’d got postcards in the mail.

Bailey got nothing.

He had his dad. It was more than she’d ever had.

No, she told herself sharply. She’d had grandparents who loved her. But grandparents never, ever made up for what a mother was supposed to be. She had a clear idea of what was right, even at six.

‘So you’re thinking you can possibly turn yourself into a substitute mother for Bailey? Take them in and coddle them?

‘Of course I can’t.’ She was talking to herself, out loud, the habit of a woman who lived alone.

‘Why not? The place they’re in is awful. You’ve been looking for tenants for months. Bailey would love living with Ketchup. Why reject them out of hand?

‘Because Nicholas scares me.’

Think about it.

She did think.

She couldn’t stop thinking.

She was out of her mind.

‘Why can’t we live with Miss Lawrence?’

There were a million reasons. He couldn’t tell his son any of them.

Except one.

‘You heard her. She said no. I think Miss Lawrence likes living alone.’

‘She doesn’t. She said she tried to rent part of her house. And we wouldn’t have to move furniture.’

Why was he blessed with a smart kid with big ears?

‘Maybe she wants a single person. Maybe another lady.’

‘We’re better than a lady.’ Bailey wriggled down into his seat and thought about it. ‘It’d be good. I really like Ketchup.’

Nick thought Ketchup was okay, too. Ketchup and Bailey touching noses. Bailey truly happy for the first time since his mother died. Ketchup had made him smile.

‘Maybe we could get our own dog,’ he said and then he heard what he’d said and couldn’t believe it.

Here was a perfect example of mouth operating before head. Was he out of his mind? Where were his resolutions?

But he’d said it, and it was too late to haul it back. Bailey’s face lit like a Christmas tree. ‘We can get a dog?’ he breathed.

‘Maybe we can,’ he said, feeling winded. ‘Seeing as we can’t live with Miss Lawrence.’

But Bailey had moved past Miss Lawrence. He was only seeing four legs and a tail. ‘I can have a dog of my own?’

Miss Lawrence had a lot to answer for, he decided. His plans had not included a dog. ‘A young dog,’ he said. That, at least, was sensible. A young healthy dog wouldn’t cause grief. A young dog probably wouldn’t cause grief.

He’d have to reinforce fences, he thought. He’d have to keep the dog safe, too.

‘He’ll be able to play with Ketchup,’ Bailey said, not hearing his reservations. He was almost rigid with excitement. ‘Do you think we can find a dog who’ll touch noses? Me and Ketchup touch noses. Like you and Miss Lawrence touch hands.’

‘That’s got nothing to do…’

But Bailey wasn’t listening. The touching hands thing was simply a passing fact. ‘Dogs are great,’ he said, breathless and wondering. This was turning into a very good day in the World According to Bailey, and he was starting to plan. ‘We’ll be able to take our dog to visit Ketchup. We’ll all have picnics on the beach. We’ll all still be able to touch.’

What was a man to say to that?

‘Can we build a kennel?’

‘I…yes.’

‘I can’t wait to tell Miss Lawrence,’ Bailey said.

‘We may not see Miss Lawrence until Monday.’

‘We need to get our furniture,’ Bailey said happily. ‘We’ll see her tomorrow. Can we get a dog tomorrow?’

‘Do you think having Nicholas Holt and his son as tenants is a bad idea?’ It was a bad idea. There were complications on every side. She shouldn’t even think it but Bailey’s expression wouldn’t go away. Bailey’s need.

What was it in him that had touched such a chord within?

Other kids lost mothers.

It was the way he’d touched noses with Ketchup, she thought. She’d watched him find huge pleasure in that simple contact, and she remembered how important dogs had been to her as a child. Bailey couldn’t go his whole life without a mother-and without a dog.

If they became her tenants he’d share Ketchup. Ketchup would be on Bailey’s bed in no time. Kid and dog. Perfect fit.

Their house was truly appalling. Bailey’s suggestion was even sensible.

If only she could ignore Nicholas.

She was a grown woman. Could a grown woman get her hormones under control enough to consider a sensible plan?

Surely she could.

Misty set the whole thing in front of Gran, and Gran considered it. Misty knew she did. Gran did a lot of considering these days.

Gran’s eyes were closed tonight but, when Misty settled Ketchup on her bedclothes, against Gran’s hand, she saw Gran’s fingers move against his furry coat. Just a little, convulsively, as if she was remembering something she’d forgotten.

Gran loved dogs.

Love was a dangerous concept, Misty thought. She’d fallen for Ketchup, she was falling for Bailey, and where were her plans now? In a muddle, that was where.

‘I shouldn’t have agreed to keep Ketchup.’

Gran’s fingers moved again.

‘You’re a soft touch, too. We both are.’ She lifted Gran’s spare hand to her cheek. ‘Oh, Gran, this is dumb. I have fallen for Ketchup, and I would like someone living in the other side of my house. Bailey needs a good place to live and it’s sensible. It’s just…Nick touched me. I’m scared I’ll get involved and I want to be free. But free’s not an option. I’m being dumb.’

She had to let her plans go.

She already had, she thought, or she almost had, the moment she’d fallen for Ketchup. And maybe letting her plans go was her only option.

Six months ago, the doctors had told her Gran had weeks to live. But Gran was still here, and there was no thought of her dying. And in the end… How could Misty possibly dream of a future with Gran not here?

Ketchup was deeply asleep now. He’d had a huge day for an injured dog. She should have him at home, right now.

‘It’s okay to live alone,’ she told her grandmother. ‘I don’t need anyone to help me care for Ketchup, and I don’t need complications.’

Gran’s hand slid sideways. The tiny moment of awareness was gone.

Misty’s thoughts telescoped, out of frame. To a future without Gran?

She’d thought of what she’d do when Gran was gone, but now…Gran was here but not here, and she could well be like this for years.

The future looked terrifying. Living in that great house alone. Never leaving this town.

What to do?

Since Gran’s first stroke she’d been trying to plan, trying to figure her future. But in truth she’d been planning since before she could remember. Making lists.

Maybe she should stop planning and just…be.

She wouldn’t mind Nicholas and his little son living next door. It wasn’t exactly a bleak thought.

She wouldn’t need to rush home to feed Ketchup on nights when she had to stay back at school.

That was a sensible thought.

And then… Another sensible thought. The resurgence of the dream.

‘You know, if anything happened to Gran,’ she told Ketchup as she settled him back into her car. ‘Just saying… If it did, and if Nicholas and Bailey were living in my house… They could look after you while I tried out a yurt. Just for a while.’

Yes. Her dream re-emerged, dusted itself off, settled back into the corner of her mind, where it had been a comfort for years.

‘You’re making me realign my existence,’ she told Ketchup. ‘Two days ago, I was alone. What are you doing with my life?’

Ketchup looked at her and shifted his tail, just a little, but enough to make her smile. She did want this dog.

‘Maybe you’re my nemesis,’ she told him. ‘I thought Gran’s death would be the thing that changed my life. Maybe it’s you.’

She bent over to hug him and got a lick for her pains.

‘Enough.’ She chuckled. ‘I’m not used to kisses.’

A kiss. A touch? She was thinking again of Nick’s hand on hers. The strength of his fingers. The warmth of skin against skin.

Ketchup wasn’t her only nemesis. There was something about Nicholas that was messing with her plans in a far bigger way. In a way that was much more threatening.

She had to be sensible, she told herself. She had a dog and a grandmother and a house that was too big for her. And if there was something about Nicholas that scared her…