Nine
BEAR
We pull into Noelle’s parents' driveway and she shifts into Park. She shuts off the engine, opens her door, and slings one long, ivory leg out, but stops when she sees I haven’t even unbuckled yet.
“Knew I shoulda dressed up more,” I mutter.
She huffs, shaking her head. "You're fine."
I gesture at the house. "Look at the place. Fuckin' mansion."
Noelle frowns at me and then sinks back into her seat, pulling her leg back in as she looks at the house she grew up in, perhaps trying to see it through my eyes.
Two stories, it began life sometime in the first few decades of the nineteen hundreds as a simple Craftsman. Over the intervening century or so, it looks like it has been added onto, renovated, added onto again, and re-renovated. Now, it looks—to my eyes, at least—to be over five thousand square feet and sits on a five-acre lot at the end of a cul-de-sac, with state-owned forest on two sides. Sided in gray, weathered cedar shakes with a green metal roof, it has a deep front porch held up by a pair of river stone pillars, a white bench swing hanging from the ceiling on the left side, and a pair of antique rocking chairs on the right.The driveway extends past the house on the right side a good fifty yards, ending at a big red pole barn. Twenty or so hens run around the backyard, clucking and scratching, while a huge rooster watches, tail feathers arched proudly, cockle-doodle-doing noisily every few seconds.
I frown. "I thought roosters only do that at dawn?"
She laughs. "God, no. That's Boggle. He never shuts up." She pats my knee, smiling encouragingly at me. "It’s just a house, Bear. I promise you're fine. My brothers haven't worn anything but joggers and hoodies for like five years."
I blow out a breath. "I'm nervous."
"It's okay. You’re okay. Just be yourself."
I snort. "Still figuring out who that is."
"A sweet, smart, strong man who's working incredibly hard to overcome a very difficult past. And succeeding admirably, I might add." She squeezes my thigh. "C'mon, time to go in."
I sigh and reluctantly, nervously unfold from the CR-V, and open the rear door for Panzer, who hops down and stretches forward and backward, yawning prodigiously, shakes off violently, and then waits for my next move.
Noelle heads for the porch as I gather the bags containing the groceries from the trunk and joins me at the door. As soon as my feet hit the top step, the front door opens and Noelle’s mother bustles out, arms open.
"No-No! Thanks for coming early, sweetie." Her arms wrap around Noelle, who returns the hug with similar exuberance.
"Of course, Mom." She turns as I lumber up the steps, Panzer at my left heel. "Mom, this is Bear. Bear, this is my mom, Nina."
Her mom's eyes bug out of her head as she sees me—and then she sees Panzer.
She screams, ducking behind Noelle.
Noelle whirls, grabbing her mom’s arms and staring at her in shock. “Mom! What the heck?”
Noelle’s father appears in the doorway, concern on his face. "What in theworldis going on?"
Noelle shakes her head. “Mom saw Bear's dog and screamed. I know he looks scary, but he's the sweetest dog you’ll ever meet. Relax."
Mom is shaking like a leaf, white as a sheet, still hiding behind her daughter.
Her dad pulls his wife against his side. "She got attacked by a dog the other day. She's still shaken up."
I set the bags down and go back down the steps to where Panzer is waiting, panting, tongue lolling. "Panzer, komm." I lead the dog across the front yard to the huge spreading oak tree. "Platz. Bleib."
Panzer settles onto his belly, licking my hand as I scruff the dog's ears.
"Sorry about that," I say, coming back up the steps. "Didn’t know."
Noelle frowns at her mom, who has a hand on her chest, her breathing finally starting to slow down. "You were attacked? By whose dog?”
Nina nods, swallowing hard. "I was taking a walk like I do every day. Two miles to the Cromwell farm and back. I passed by the Hendersons like always, and their dog jumped the fence and chased me, barking like crazy. He bit me. See?” She tugs the sleeve of her cardigan up to reveal a nasty set of healing bite marks. “I’ve known that dog since he was a pup. I have no idea what happened. I felt horrible, though. They had to call animal control."
