Chapter 5
Mark Jenkins stormed across the lawn.
He was six feet tall, broad-shouldered, red in the face.
Ryan stepped in front of me.
“Easy,” Ryan said.
“Easy?” Mark pointed at Buddy. “You people just show up here and try to take our dog? We paid three hundred dollars for him. We bought him food. A bed. Toys. My girls named him Max.”
“His name is Buddy,” Noah said quietly.
Mark looked down at him.
His anger didn’t fade.
But it softened around the edges.
“Look, kid,” he said. “I get you’re upset. But finders keepers. The shelter gave us all the paperwork. He’s ours now.”
“That’s not how it works,” I said, stepping around Ryan. “My mother-in-law stole him from us. She had no legal right to surrender him. The adoption is invalid. If we have to, we’ll go to court. And do you know what a judge will say when he sees a nine-year-old boy and a microchip registered in our name? He’ll give us the dog. And then you’ll be out three hundred dollars and a whole lot of heartache. Is that what you want?”
Mark’s jaw tightened.
Sarah came up behind him.
Put her hand on his arm.
“Mark, they’re right. The shelter said he was a stray. But he’s not. He belongs to them.”
Mark shook her off.
“Like hell he does. We went through the proper channels. If the shelter messed up, that’s their problem. Not ours.”
He knelt down and called to Buddy.
“C’mere, boy. C’mon, Max.”
Buddy looked at him.
Then at Noah.
Then he took a step backward.
Pressed himself against Noah’s leg.
Mark’s face fell.
“See?” I said. “He knows who his family is.”
Mark stood up.
He looked like he was going to fight.
Then he looked at Noah.
At the way Noah’s hand was buried in Buddy’s fur.
Like he was scared if he let go, the dog would disappear again.
Mark swore under his breath.
“Dammit.”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“Look,” he said. “I’m not a bad guy. I don’t want to make a kid cry. But my girls—they’ve been begging for a dog for two years. Yesterday was the best day of their lives. If I tell them he has to go back? They’re going to be crushed.”
Ryan spoke.
“We know. And we’re sorry. Truly. But what would you do if it was your son? If someone took your kid’s dog and gave him away? What lengths would you go to get him back?”
Mark stared at him.
For a long time, nobody said anything.
The only sound was Buddy’s heavy breathing.
Then Mark sighed.
“Fine,” he said. “Take him.”
Noah gasped.
“But,” Mark continued, “I want my three hundred dollars back. Now. And I want you people gone before my girls get home. I don’t want them to see this.”
“Deal,” I said immediately.
I opened my purse.
I had exactly forty-two dollars in cash.
Ryan pulled out his wallet.
Two hundred.
“Two forty-two,” he said. “That’s all we have. We can get the rest to you tomorrow. I swear.”
Mark looked at the money.
Then at Noah.
“Keep it,” he said. “Just get out of here. Please.”
I reached out my hand.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t take it.
“Just go.”
We walked to the car.
Noah climbed in the back with Buddy.
The dog curled up on his lap, his head on Noah’s knees.
As we pulled out of the driveway, I looked back.
Mark and Sarah were standing in the yard.
Watching us go.
Sarah was crying.
Mark had his arm around her.
I felt sick.
We’d won.
We’d gotten our dog back.
But we’d broken two little girls’ hearts to do it.
“Mom,” Noah said from the back. “Are those little girls going to be sad?”
I didn’t know how to answer.
“Yeah, baby,” I said finally. “For a little while. But they’ll be okay. And someday, they’ll get another dog. One that doesn’t have another family waiting for him.”
Noah nodded.
He didn’t look convinced.
But he hugged Buddy tighter.
Ryan was quiet on the drive home.
I knew what was going through his head.
We’d won the battle.
But the war with Diane was just starting.
And now we had to go home.
To the house where she’d left that note.
Where she could be waiting.
We pulled into our driveway an hour later.
Diane’s car was back.
Parked in her usual spot.
The front door was slightly open.
Ryan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel.
“Stay here,” he said.
“Like hell I will.”
We all got out.
Noah held Buddy’s leash so tight his knuckles were white.
We walked up the steps.
Ryan pushed the door open.
“Mom?”
Silence.
We stepped inside.
The living room was dark.
The curtains were drawn.
And Diane was sitting on the couch.
Waiting.
She stood up when she saw us.
Her eyes went straight to Buddy.
Then to Ryan.
“So,” she said. “You chose them.”
Ryan took a deep breath.
“Mom, this has to stop. You had no right to take Buddy. No right to give him away. He’s part of this family.”
Diane laughed.
It was a cold, sharp sound.
“Family? You think this is family? You think that woman and that boy love you more than I do? They’ll leave you, Ryan. They all do. Just like your father. I’m the only one who will never leave you. The only one who truly cares.”
She walked toward him.
“Now send that dog away again. And tell your wife I want an apology. And then we can forget this ever happened.”
Ryan didn’t move.
“No.”
The word was so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.
Diane froze.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.” Ryan’s voice got stronger. “I’m not sending Buddy away. I’m not making Lindsey apologize. This is our house. And you live here by our rules. If you can’t respect that? Then maybe you need to find somewhere else to live.”
The room went dead silent.
I held my breath.
Diane’s face turned red.
Then white.
Then she did the last thing I expected.
She started to cry.
Not the soft, gentle crying of a hurt woman.
Big, heaving sobs.
She collapsed back onto the couch.
“How could you say that to me?” she wailed. “After everything I’ve done for you. After I raised you alone. Worked three jobs to put food on the table. Slept on the couch so you could have the only bed. And this is how you repay me? You throw me out for a dog?”
Ryan’s face crumpled.
I saw his resolve start to crack.
“Mom, I’m not throwing you out—”
“Yes you are!” She stood up, tears streaming down her face. “You’re choosing them over me! Your own mother! I should have known. You’re just like your father. Selfish. Ungrateful. You’ll regret this, Ryan Michael. You’ll all regret this.”
She ran up the stairs.
We heard her bedroom door slam.
Then the sound of drawers opening and closing.
Ryan looked at me.
His eyes were wild.
“What do I do?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Let her go.”
“But she’s my mother.”
“I know. But you did the right thing. You stood up for us. For Noah. For Buddy.”
Noah tugged on my shirt.
“Mom? Is Grandma leaving?”
“I think so, baby.”
“Good,” he said.
I looked down at him.
Surprised.
Noah was staring at the stairs.
His face was serious.
“She hurt Buddy,” he said. “And she hurt Dad. And she hurt you. I don’t want her here anymore.”
I pulled him close.
Upstairs, the front of a suitcase hit the floor.
Hard.
Ten minutes later, Diane came down.
She had two suitcases.
Her makeup was done.
Her hair was perfect.
No sign she’d been crying at all.
She walked to the door.
Paused.
Looked at Ryan.
“I’m going to stay with my sister in Knoxville,” she said. “But don’t think this is over. I will not be treated like this. And when you come crawling back? And you will come crawling back? Don’t expect me to be waiting with open arms.”
She opened the door.
Then stopped.
Turned back.
Looked right at me.
“And you,” she said. “You think you won? You think you got your little family back? You have no idea what’s coming. Nobody takes my son from me. Nobody.”
She walked out.
We heard her car start.
Tires screech on the driveway.
Then she was gone.
The house was quiet again.
Ryan stood in the middle of the living room.
Staring at the closed door.
I went to him.
Put my hand on his arm.
“Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer.
Then he slowly turned to me.
His face was ashen.
“Lindsey,” he said. “My mother doesn’t make idle threats.”
I looked at the door.
At the empty space where Diane had been.
“I know,” I said.
And deep down, I was scared.
Because I knew Ryan was right.
Diane was gone.
May you like
But this wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
