Moving slowly to not spook either of them, I position myselfso I can see what she’s drawing. Bella didn’t give herself credit. I don’t know why the fuck she was working a corporate designer job when she can draw likethat.
Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, her brows lowered, eyes narrowed as her hand flies across the sketchpad. She’s drawn the mountains, along with Bambi lying in the grass and looking at the view.
The accuracy of it is uncanny.
Realism doesn’t cover it. It doesn’t look like she’s created it with the talent of her hands and a pencil. It looks like she’s taken a photo.
I slide my gaze to Bambi. Her tongue is hanging out, with her head tipped back and her eyes closed as she soaks up the golden rays of the setting sun. I’ve never seen what contentment looks like on a dog, but if I had to guess, it would be this.
She’s a far cry from the anxious dog she was just a few hours earlier.
I couldn’t let her go to another family even if I tried.
Before I can change my mind or tell myself I’m a creep, I pull out my phone and take a picture of a moment I want to cherish for as long as I live.
Staring at them, the two girls that have made my heart beat with something other than misery, I decide it’s now my turn to hold up my end of the bargain.
It’s been thirty minutes since my mental declaration, and I still haven’t been able to step inside the shed.
The last time I went inside, Drew was beside me. It was a Sunday and like all Sundays, he’d come over to cook my meals for the week. He would be inside cooking and I’d be outside gardening.
He’d come out every now and then when he was waiting on something and we’d banter back and forth. Kieran is my best friend, but like most siblings close in age, Drew was myfirstbest friend.
I keep trying to tell myself it’s just a shed. That Drew didn’t even like gardening, and yet for some reason my mind has correlated the two together. Every time I lift my hand to open the shed it shakes and I find I can’t even touch the door.
A wet slobbery lick runs up the back of my calf.
Spinning, I find Bambi staring up at me, wagging her tail. Bending, I begin to ruffle her fur but she’s suddenly bounding past me and before I can stop her, she’s got her nose shoved in a gap in the shed’s door I didn’t realize was there and pushing her head through.
By the time I’m up, stupidly calling out her name—like that will get the attention of a deaf dog—her body is through and inside.
I don’t have a choice now.
There’s tools upon tools that are a death trap for a dog in there.
Cursing under my breath, I force myself through the shed while I hold my breath. Except, where I expect to find Bambi surrounded by knocked-over tools, she’s just sitting at the entrance, waiting for me like the good girl she is with a giant smile on her face.
I want to signgood girl, but I don’t want to encourage her to come in here alone.
Sighing deeply, I regard the shed. “Well, you got me in here,” I mutter.
My eyes track over the space, shocked to see how dirty it’s gotten. Everything is covered with a thin layer of dust. There’s cobwebs everywhere and I’m a little afraid of what I’ll find in my gardening boots and gloves.
Running my hands through my hair, I feel like pulling the strands but that will get me nowhere except with a painful headache.
Bambi shifts forward, scooting herself so she can be closer tome. My brow quirks. “You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”
Her head cocks to the side as she watches my face closely.
My phone’s burning a hole in my pocket with the photo of Bella’s drawing. If she can do it, on all days like today when her closest support network leaves, then I can do the minimum and pull some weeds and protect the soil to get the yard ready for winter…right?
“I can do this,” I say to Bambi but more to myself.
Bambi comes with me, her head locked on my face as if she’s waiting to read my body language.
Taking a steadying breath, I regard her. “You helped Bella so now you’re helping me, is that what’s happening?”
I don’t know why I hold my breath. It’s not like she can talk, but as I move farther into the shed, picking up a black bucket to hold the weeds I plan to pull out, Bambi sticks to me like glue.
