Page 10 of Gideon's Gratitude

I’d never ignored apee-pee dancesince.

Shoving back the covers, I grabbed for the clothes Gideon had lent me. The too-short jogging pants, the too-tight hoodie. The battered socks. I followed the dog down the stairs and allowed myself to be led to the laundry room. Although the dog appeared ready to bound out of there, I exercised a modicum of prudence. I grabbed what appeared to be a leash and clipped it on to the dog’s collar. After I opened the door a fraction, the dog bounded out. I barely had time to register what was happening before the leash went taut and I was being dragged out into the dark and dreary morning without even the benefit of shoes or a coat.

“Lucky.” Said through gritted teeth, but the monster appeared to be completely unconcerned.

He sniffed continuously until finding the perfect tree and relieving himself.

I should look away. At such a lack of decorum. I couldn’t, though. I’d always wanted to have a dog while growing up, and now the awesome responsibility and the awesome beauty of having such a magnificent creature to call my own had me in awe.

When he completed his business, he bounded back over to me.

I let the dog in. Hmm, the torrential rain had stopped, and a thick fog had set in. Seven-thirteen, according to my watch. When was the last time I’d slept almost twelve straight hours?

Quite a while. Perhaps when I had pneumonia three years ago. Possibly not even then, as I’d kept working, much to my doctor’s dismay.

Lucky bolted into the house, and I followed him at a more-sedate pace. I retraced my steps from last night, following the warmth coming from the fireplace. I rounded the sofa to find my host fast asleep. In that sleep, Gideon appeared youthful. The lines of worry dissipated, making his age far more difficult to discern.

We hadn’t discussed ages last night. Frankly, we’d discussed little. My host had been quite nervous, and I’d been too fatigued to cope with anything other than the necessities. Now, as the gray light filled the home, I noted the charm of its retro look.

Straight out of the 1960s, complete with shag carpet, linoleum flooring, painted fireplace, and popcorn ceiling.

Although I’d never lived in a home such as this, I’d visited friends who did. My wealthy parents didn’t make class distinctions, so I hung out with folks from all social strata. Some of those young men and women were still my friends today.

Lucky nudged my hand.

Oh, food.

Couldn’t be that difficult, could it? I walked into the kitchen and delved into every cupboard until I located the one with a bin of what appeared to be kibble. A dog bowl and a scoop sat next to it. I eyed the dog. “One scoop?”

He held my gaze.

If only I could know what you’re thinking.

He cocked his head to the side, as if demanding to know what was taking so long.

I opened the lid, scooped out one portion, then put the bowl on the ground.

The dog devoured it noisily.

Will he wake Gideon?Hopefully, no. The man deserved rest. Everyone deserved rest, if they needed it.

The water bowl appeared low, so I refilled it.

The dog nudged me before heading over and slurping.

What now?

I could cook. Not skilled, but I was competent in the kitchen. Mother insisted I learn with my sisters. No gender roles in her house. I knew how to clean, and my sisters were competent at household repairs. A good education all around.

These days, though, I simply called someone if something needed to be repaired. Trickle-down economics. My income meant I could afford to hire others to perform those services.

Okay.

Get the lay of the land.

Silence.

Okay. The generator was no longer working, so power had been restored? Did that mean the tree had been cleared?Hope so.

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