Page 5 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
I placed Molly in the back of my SUV, spread out my animal-rescue blanket, and urged her onto it. I hopped in next to her. A comforting weight settled onto my thigh as Molly rested her head on my knee. My heart melted at her trust.
At this point, I was officially super late for the shower. What were a few more minutes?
To Greg, they’re a lot.My stomach twisted.
I dialed the number on Molly’s collar. It went to voicemail, so I left a message with my contact information, and then pulled up Greg’s number.
It rang half a second before he answered.
“Where are you?” he asked in a tense voice. “Everyone’s waiting to eat.”
“On the forest road entrance. Don’t wait for me, though.”
I ran my hand gently over Molly’s body to feel for any more thorns before I helped her with her leg. Devil’s club was a terrible bush to tangle with. Thorns the size of my pinkie finger were hidden by huge heart-shaped leaves. Molly whined when I got too close to her back leg.
“What was that?” Greg asked.
Greg and I got along well, except for one thing. One big thing—or really, one small thing, depending on how you looked at it. My rescue dogs. Specifically, my tiny foster dog, Hansel, a three-legged Chihuahua that had been with me for going on six months now. Greg liked to say that the only way he liked his animals was between two buns, which really hurt Hansel’s feelings.
“An injured dog,” I said when Molly barked, despite my pleading expression for her to stay quiet. “I’m going to drop her off at the shelter—” And change my clothes, but he didn’t need to know about that part. “—and then I’ll come back.”
“You’re going to be almost an hour late by the time you drop it off and get back here.”
“I’m sorry?—”
“I know, I know you’re not going to leave it on the side of the road, so I won’t even suggest it. Just come straight here, and then you can take it to the shelter once the shower is over.”
“Greg.” I looked down at my muddy dress. “I can’t?—”
“See you soon.” He hung up before I could get another word in.
I hated it when he cut me off like that. “I can’t come to the party looking like this. And I don’t want to leave Molly alone for too long,” I said into the silent phone as if Greg could still hear me. I sighed and set my phone down.
It was this wedding. Greg was more on edge than usual, and I hated disappointing him. Two more weeks and we’d be married, and then he could go back to the version of Greg who wasn’t constantly frustrated.
“Want to go on a field trip, Molly?” If I could at least get the thorns out, it would help her to feel so much better while she was relaxing in my car until her family came. I’d done this enough times that I knew to be quick and give her a treat after each one.
Molly snarled at me as I removed the first thorn, and after the second, her head whipped toward me so fast, I didn’t even see the nip coming until it was done.
It was just a warning, but her teeth scraped down my arm as I yanked back on instinct. The scratches stung and would need to be cleaned, but they’d hardly broken skin. Dogs had so few ways to communicate.
“I know it hurts.” I held her face while I pulled out the third, and last, thorn. She wriggled under my hold, and then, as if realizing she wasn’t hurting anymore, she suddenly stopped.
I let her have another treat as she tentatively put weight on her back legs.
My phone buzzed with a text from Greg.“Why aren’t you moving?”
“On my way,”I wrote back.
I emptied out the first aid kit and poured my water bottle into it. Molly eagerly lapped it up.
The cool summer wind blew through my open window as I took the winding road up the mountain and into the neighborhood that had endlessly fascinated me as a kid.The wealthy—which felt like an entirely different species of human—vacationed here.
When I was little, my mom and I would drive up here on her rare weekend afternoons off work and dream of living in one of these huge, gorgeous homes, instead of in the tiny, rickety duplex—with drafty windows and questionable wooden stairs—we’d moved into after my dad died.
My future in-lawslivedhere. And Greg promised we’d buy a house here too.
I’d come a long way from the poor little girl who wore her cousin’s hand-me-downs until there were patches on the patches, and ate school breakfast and lunch even in the summer. Sometimes it was hard to believe this was my life.
