Page 33 of Rabid

Willow had loved hearing about her grandmother. Being in her home made it easier to talk about her, and Dale’s stories filled in gaps she hadn’t known existed.

“I’ve told you how ornery she was,” Dale said with a laugh. “She didn’t like me asking personal questions. I learned more about her cleaning up this place than I ever did while she was alive. There’s stuff in the closet she left for you. Everything that woman did was with you in mind.”

Sadness mixed with love flickered in his eyes.

Willow’s chest ached. She understood her grandmother’s orneriness now. It came from love and loss.

Joan had been her biggest advocate. Willow had barely known her before the trial, but Joan had sat behind her at every hearing, brushing Willow’s shoulder with steady, reassuring fingers whenever she stood. It was the first love Willow had ever truly known.

Her mother had been broken, often reversing their roles so Willow ended up caring for her. When the sentence came down, her grandmother’s rage had filled the courtroom. She was escorted out for yelling at the judge.

Her grandmother had been her first champion. Now it was Dale, and Willow realized how odd their situation was—two people tied together by one woman’s love.

After dinner, Dale assured her he was only a shout away before heading to his motor home with Daisy in tow, leaving Max behind.

Max followed Willow to the bathroom door, nudging it with his nose as she tried to close it. She laughed, remembering her grandmother telling her how Max had done the same to her.

He waited patiently until she came out, his short tail wagging as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Willow walked the house, turning onadditional lights. Dale had told her to leave the front and back doors open, locking only the security screens to keep the house cool overnight.

She opened her bedroom window and double-checked the latch that secured the grill.

When she finally slipped between the soft covers, she didn’t think she’d be able to sleep. But the soothing rhythm of crickets and the faint rustle of the night eased her mind.

Then the dream woke her.

The previous evening’s memories calmed her now. She lay back against the sheets, her heartbeat finally normal. Max jumped on the bed and licked her square in the face, making her laugh.

The laughter turned into tears.

She snuggled against Max, wrapping her arms around him as sobs wracked her body. His warm breath fanned her hair, a steady reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

In prison, therapy had taught her that crying was healthy, but those women hadn’t lived behind bars. They could go home at the end of the day. Crying in prison wasn’t good. It made you vulnerable.

Here, she could finally let it out.

Her grandmother’s death had left a gaping hole in her heart, sadness a tight fist of grief with no way out. She cried for her grandmother and herself.

Her mother’s death lingered like a shadow;stilted memories better left buried. In the juvenile facility, her nightmares had been psychotic recollections of her father. Once transferred to State Prison, the nightmares shifted to her incarceration; guards she didn’t trust, women who wanted something from her, and the suffocating isolation.

If not for her grandmother’s letters and visits, filling the endless void of hours with love and encouragement, she might not have survived.

Now Dale had stepped into that same space with his calm demeanor and a promise of a place to call her own.

She squeezed Max tightly as the tears slowed. Her stuffed, leaking nose eventually demanded tissues.

She gave Max a gentle push. It did absolutely nothing. He licked her face, and to escape, she rolled in the opposite direction, nearly falling off the bed. Her feet touched the cool tile.

Max jumped down when she walked toward the bathroom.

Before she entered, a sound at the front door made her stop. Daisy waited behind the screen, giving a soft whine.

Willow veered to the door and let Max out before heading to the bathroom.

She glanced at herself in the mirror. The loose nightshirt she wore, a reminder of prison, hung awkwardly on her frame. She hadn’t touchedher grandmother’s closet yet. Willow wanted time to sit and explore her personal belongings.

When she returned to the living room, the sound of barking drew her toward the screen door.

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