Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
All I had room for was Harry.
And all he had room for was me.
FORTY-EIGHT
The Natives Are Restless Part II
Lillian
It happened four days later when I was in the backyard with the dogs.
I had two tennis balls I was throwing. Lucy and Linus were chasing after them and bringing them back.
Smokey wasn’t a fetch kind of dog. He was sitting next to me, watching his brother and sister going for it.
I was doing this at the same time looking at the leaves all over the ground and remembering Harry’s edict that I was not to rake them. He told me he’d do it on Saturday.
I’d noted he seemed very evolved, what with his stellar clothes-folding and vacuum-pushing abilities, but there were some things Harry had strict gender role rules about.
For instance, even though I’d been raking my own leaves for years, now, he’d let me help him rake them, but if he came home to the leaves being raked, he would not be happy.
We wouldn’t fight. Harry wasn’t a fighter. He was a discusser.
That said, he didn’t have a problem with sharing what didn’t make him happy.
I could remember maybe two fights my parents got into. Perhaps they hid it from me the other times they did it, but I didn’t think so. They just got along. If something was miffing one or the other of them, they’d disappear into their room, discuss it and come out all lovey.
I’d hated fighting with Willie because I knew that proved I hadn’t picked the right one. Not that couples shouldn’t fight, just that Willie and I did it a lot. He could get mean, he had zero ability to self-reflect, but he was a whiz at deflection, and it always felt icky.
I sometimes wished Stormy would fight with me, so maybe he’d let loose the control he held on the wrath he felt at what Angelica had done to him, and he could start to heal and move on.
But this, with Harry, was what I’d always been looking for.
We didn’t agree on everything (case in point, the leaves—I had time, a looser schedule and partially worked from home, his job was crazy, and he needed to relax when he wasn’t doing it—pointing out the obvious, I lost that discussion).
It was just…he and I had learned life could bring you to your knees, so you didn’t sweat the small stuff. You talked it out and got on with it.
Though, I’d add that Harry was kind of stubborn.
But honestly, if he wanted to rake leaves, if that meant something to him, who was I to argue?
It was on this thought that Smokey shot to his feet on a ferocious bark.
And then he took off like a shot toward the back gate.
Linus was running back to me.
Lucy was grabbing a ball I’d thrown.
At Smokey’s actions, they both stopped and watched him.
And then Karl Abernathy burst through the gate after putting his shoulder to it.
He was carrying a gun.
Smokey went right at him, and Linus and Lucy raced that way, barking up a storm.
Abernathy raised the gun toward Smokey, my heart squeezed so hard, I felt the pain, and every ounce of it was in the word I screeched.
“No!”
A shot rang out.
“No!” I shrieked again just as Smokey leapt and hit Abernathy right in the chest.
He staggered back.
Lucy leaped and chomped on his gun arm.
Linus attacked a leg.
“Smokey! Lucy! Linus! Come here!” I screamed, racing to the side door. “Come! Now! Come now!”
I got to the door, and to my shock, all three dogs were zipping toward me.
Abernathy seemed to be looking for his gun in the leaves.
Thank God, we had a reprieve.
And thank fuck I didn’t rake those damned leaves.
“Come! Come on now! Come!” I encouraged, frantically slapping my leg.
Smokey dashed in first, then Linus, then Lucy.
I slammed the door and locked it, right before I heard the shots and the terrifying thumps hit the door.
I flattened myself against the side wall, staring in shock at the door.
More strikes I knew were bullets, but they didn’t go through the door.
Dad had installed that door. I knew why now, since Harry had told me about the break-in I’d never known about in LA.
It was a security door. Like the one in the front (though that one had windows, this one did not), it was reinforced, and there was a knob lock and a deadbolt.
No one could shoulder through that door.
And apparently, it stopped bullets.
“Come on,” I pushed out to the dogs as I ran to the side door and into the mudroom off the kitchen, pulling my phone out of my back pocket.
I heard more gunshots, and it seemed now there were different ones.
I got the dogs in the house, locked the side door and then raced to the bathroom, the dogs coming with me as I engaged my phone.