I flicked on the left signal light well ahead of the turn. The wind continued to splatter heavy rain against the foggy windshield. The wipers worked hard to clean the glass, but were unable to keep up with the relentless downpour.
These past few days I had been north and south of this road several times. With a nighttime blindfold surrounding me, I knew from experience when to turn the wheel. Thankfully there were no oncoming headlights as I gunned it across the highway just before a blind curve. My stretched-to-the-limit nerves didn’t need anymore challenges. I quickly stifled the thought of an accident so late at night.
Hannah’s dark lane provided me with more treachery. It skirted large poplars, their branches swinging against the power lines, threatening to topple the round poles at any moment. I eased up on the gas to avoid huge ruts embedded in the gravel and pulled up close to the deck. I stopped in front of the mobile home leaving the car’s high beams on.
“Here we are.” I mumbled, switching off the windshield wipers.
“I’ll be quick Sis,” Hannah set her purse on the dash before slamming the door shut behind her.
“No rush,” I lied, looking up at the black sky. I wanted this night and storm to be over. I wanted my safe haven, my home and family.
I turned to check on the kids. They sat immobilized behind their favourite stuffies in the back seat. Braden suckled on his thumb buried deep in his mouth. Hannah had mentioned to me a couple of days ago that his thumb-sucking habit had returned.
“You boys okay?” I attempted a grin, knowing it was a lame effort. Their silence confirmed it. I tried to pry Braden’s thumb out of its hiding spot, but the three-year-old had a suction grip on it, holding it glued in place.
Braden leaned against Jacob’s shoulder. His older brother’s fists were curled into tight balls. He stared at the empty dog kennel in the yard. Jacob looked so much like a young version of his Dad. I turned back to face the windshield and switched on the wipers. Lunar sat like a statue on the front deck under the eave, half of his body protected from the downpour. Water trickled off his thick husky fur, down his neck and onto his massive paws. Behind him, through the patio doors, Hannah walked back and forth gathering her overnight necessities. She shoved jeans and t-shirts for both boys into a large cloth bag that was sitting on the kitchen table. Diapers for Braden came next. Funny, I thought he was long out of those.
She disappeared down the hall, but soon returned with her favourite pajamas under her arm and a carton of smokes.
I grimaced. God forbid we should leave those behind. Finally, she stuffed a few things out of the refrigerator down the sides of the overfilled bag. I recognized a brick of cheese, yogurt and a small carton of milk.
A six pack of beer sat on the table. I held my breath. Is she going to grab it? No. Good girl. Relieved, I let the air whistle out of my mouth. This family had seen too much of the results of one-beer-too-many. The bruises on her face and fat lip were still too fresh to ignore.
The dog stood when Hannah flicked off the kitchen light. She disappeared into the mud room. Lunar studied the door, waiting. When nothing happened, he slumped back down onto the porch with his hips resting over his back legs. His front paws fell over the step. His chest heaved with an apparent sigh. Oblivious to the rain he dropped his chin onto his paws. The Husky’s soulful eyes blinked away droplets of moisture.
The car’s back door latch clicked behind me. “No Honey, stay inside. Mommy will be out soon,” my sharp voice startled Jacob. He dropped his hand.
He glared at me and then yelled through the small crack in the door, “Bye Lunar!”
I reached over and helped Jacob pull the door closed. I followed his gaze back to his pet. Lunar’s tail thumped several times against the wood. His muzzle never lifted from its resting place. The dog closed his eyes. I thought he might be going to sleep, but the honey
eyes opened and stared at the car. I sensed that maybe Lunar had hoped that when he opened his eyes, the scene may have changed.
“Poor Pooch, don’t we all wish,” I whispered to myself.
Hannah came out of the trailer, her arms laden with her bag, pillows and coats for the boys. I clicked the trunk latch and heard her dump the items inside. After she banged the lid down, I reached over and opened the passenger door for her.
“Get everything you need?”
“Hope so. God, let’s get out of here.”
I put the gear shift into reverse. Before backing up though I gave Lunar a final glance. His dejected demeanor matched that of his playmates in the back seat. Left behind, he lay like a remnant. The family whose twisted lives would never be straight again had no time for the dog.
Hannah reached for a tissue and held it to her eyes. I looked over my shoulder and backed the car away from the trailer. Braden released his thumb and waved his little hand at Lunar. Jacob stared down at the floor and never looked up. When I pressed against the accelerator, I was afraid the dog might follow.
As I drove out of the driveway, my eyes shifted to the rearview mirror. Lunar remained still, a statue frozen in time, his eyes were closed once more. The rain separated us like the closing curtain of a theatre production. The show was over. It was time for me to go home. As for Hannah, Jacob and Braden, their lives would forever be changed.
