Page 31 of Breathe Again

“It was fine.”

There was really no way to explain.

“I’m not saying your mom is easy, or that she doesn’t say crazy things,” he explained, “I just think she’s not all that smart and it shows in the insensitive things she says and does sometimes.”

“Maybe.”

“She’s your mom, we have to be good to her. We don’t have to agree with what she says, in fact, I don’t. I think she’s loco, but if we can visit a lonely old lady, bring some happiness to her day, that’s good, right?”

I sighed, turned to face front. “I suppose so.”

He glanced at me sideways. “You’re not convinced.”

“You’re not the one she targets.”

“True,” he acknowledged with a dip of his chin.

Thankfully, we tabled the discussion about Bea for another day and headed out to Dean and Sophie’s which would be infinitely more fun.

We rambled up the unpaved lane to Dean and Sophie’s sprawling white brick ranch. Three border collies came barreling down the drive, their tails wagging like flags. They loved company, and they loved Sophie, not in that order. Dean’s favorite, though, was a long-eared, droopy-lipped basset hound puppy he adopted from the animal shelter a few months back in retaliation when he failed tolure even one of Sophie’s furry minions over to his side. She didn’t mind.

Dean and Sophie’s place was a postcard. They lived on the outskirts of Bridgewater surrounded by seven acres of trees and field with a stream passing through their property linking them to their neighbors on both sides. Their driveway was a laneway off a concession road twenty minutes north of our place.

At the end of the laneway, a cleared pathway bisected their snow-covered front lawn and led up to a wide front porch that hosted a pair of weathered rocking chairs all year round. They had a small barn off to the side where Sophie had kept chickens and angora rabbits when her kids were younger.

They all started out as school projects, either for her own kids, or projects she’d set up for the special needs kids she used to teach. An incubator with hatching baby chicks one year led to a chicken coop, classroom rabbits required a hutch, and so it went until Dean finally broke down and built her a barn, complaining all the while about the petting zoo he was financially supporting. The truth was he’d give her anything, including the pair of pygmy goats she rescued with their donkey bodyguard.

Zale and I had dreamed of having a place like this one day. Having Olivia altered our course. To isolate her further than she already was naturally, seemed like a bad idea. When we visited, Zale often walked the property with Dean and the dogs, returning relaxed and at ease.

Dean was four years older than Zale. Shorter and thicker than Zale, and still lean and fit at fifty, Dean still looked like the boxer he used to be in his twenties and early thirties. That’s how he met Sophie. She had a bloodthirsty side and attended all the events at the local boxing club.

Eventually, so the story went, after asking her out numerous times and being shot down, she agreed to a small wager. He challenged the top-rated fighter, one who hadn’t yet been beaten by anyone in the club, to a fight. If he won, Sophie had to go out with him, just once. If he lost, he would never ask her out on a date again.

I asked him once what he would have done if he lost.

He laughed. “I was going to propose.”

He was unstoppable. Sophie never stood a chance, for which she was profoundly grateful.

The dogs followed us inside. There was no knocking on the door at Dean and Sophie’s. They expected us to walk in, and we did. Sophie claimed they’d lock the door if they wanted a heads-up, otherwise come on in.

Sophie was the most interesting looking woman I’d ever seen. Tall and thin, her wide set eyes were a soft mossy green, and her face was lightly freckled. She had high, cut cheekbones, a narrow nose, a wide, smiling, mouth and a pointy chin. She was not classically beautiful, and taken separately, her features were not unusual, but put together and framed by her wild mane of frizzy strawberryblond hair, she was nothing short of arresting. Her stunning face was the least of her charms. She was pure gold.

She heard the dogs and came rushing to the front door, her face split with a wide smile. One brisk clap of her hands served to quiet the dogs. Olivia’s headphones were on with her music, but the high-pitched barking was a major stressor that Sophie was quick to alleviate.

As soon as Sophie acknowledged them, they headed back out to the porch to chew on their bones and bask in the winter sun. They were indoor dogs, but they liked their outdoor time, too, and they needed it. Border collies are too smart, and if allowed to get bored, they easily found trouble.

Sophie did weekly agility training with them, and occasional dog shows on the weekends, yet another project left over from when her kids were still at home. She was insatiably curious and had boundless energy.

Sophie was a blast, I loved her, and so did Olivia. When we first understood the challenges Olivia would face, Sophie was with us. She accompanied me to doctor’s appointments when Zale couldn’t be there. She helped me design a homeschool curriculum when it became evident that a classroom environment would be too stressful for Olivia. When Olivia was younger, Sophie came over once a week for years, helped me review curriculum options, gave me a chance to take a long, leisurely shower, had lunch with me, and she always, always brought dinner for us on those days.

Before Olivia, Zale and I used to take their two kids for the weekend once a month so she and Dean could have time. I’d also worked side by side with her in her gardens, teaching her everything I knew. Her flower beds rivalled mine for beauty and her vegetable plots had long since overtaken mine. All the ways we’d given to each other over the years had knit us close together.

Olivia never wanted to stay over at their place. There had always been too much activity, especially when their kids were teens and their house was filled with their friends, but she loved to visit. We all did.

I heard the back door creak open, and Dean bellowed from the back of the house. “Zee, come around the back. Bring the dogs.”

Zale grinned at me, his face lit up. “Just going to grab my boots from the car and go walking with Dean.”

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