Quinn and I still talked. It wasn’t what it used to be. I didn’t know if it ever would be, but we talked, and that was something.
“I want to be back by Christmas,” Jack said.
“I know.” I also knew he couldn’t guarantee that with an overseas job, but I played along.
“Where’s Scout?” Jack asked, looking around.
“Right there.”
I pointed about twenty feet off, where she was digging out the snow around a fallen log. Jack squinted before seeing her.
“Remember what you said when you bought her for me?” I said. “That a white dog would be easier to spot? And I said, ‘Not in the snow.’ Case in point.”
“Huh.” He peered over at her as she started toward us, a black nose and dark eyes bounding through the snow. “Could get another shepherd. Black-and-tan. That’d help.”
“How?”
“They’d stick together. Like Evelyn’s dogs. Always be able to find them. Scout in the summer. The black-and-tan in the winter.”
I laughed. “I am not getting a second dog so I don’t temporarily misplace the first.”
“Get one for Scout then. Dogs are pack animals. Not easy for her. Having me here. Taking your attention. She gets jealous.”
I whistled. Scout bounded over and leaped on Jack, nearly knocking him down, as if she hadn’t seen him in days, dancing and nudging his hand as we walked.
“Yes, she obviously hates you.”
“She’s good at hiding it. Gonna get you another dog. Safer with two. Never know what’s on those roads. Bear. Coyotes. Hitmen.”
I gave him a look. “If you want another dog, fine. I will buy one—for you.”
He glanced over, blinking in surprise. “No. Didn’t mean—”
“Yep. I am totally buying you a dog. Did you hear that, Scout? Jack’s getting a dog, and you’re getting a friend.”
He protested, of course. It didn’t matter. I might act like I was kidding, but I now knew what I was getting him for Christmas. He’d never admit to wanting one—no more than I did before he bought Scout—but I knew it would please him. He’d had a dog once, when he was a boy, and getting one now would be a symbol of a new home. Of a life where he could have a pet again.
Jack was already looking to buy a car. I could say it was because he was uncomfortable borrowing my pickup to run errands, but I know it’s a step he wants to take, like helping with the cabin. I’ve never been big on personal possessions, but I can’t imagine living with none. That was changing and he seemed glad of it.
For this trip, he’d picked up a rental in Peterborough last night, which he’d drive to the Toronto airport. I’d offered to take him, but he insisted—it was a Saturday and the lodge was filled to capacity.
“I’ll be back for Christmas,” he said again as we reached the rental, his bag already in the backseat. “I mean it. If the job takes longer? I’ll come back anyway. Few days off won’t hurt.”
I started to protest, but he stopped me. “Know you don’t really celebrate. But I want to be here.”
“Okay.”
He paused, as if he’d expected me to argue.
“If you can be here, I’d love that,” I said.
I leaned in and gave him one last kiss. He climbed into the car. I stood there, watching him drive off, knowing he’d be back as soon as he could. When he was gone, I whistled for Scout and headed back to the lodge.
