At the end of the day, Bowie didn’t have to whistle for his dog because Brystol brought Luke to him. His dog was dead tired, barely able to drag himself to the truck. Brystol laughed as Bowie heaved his black Labrador into the cab.
“I’m going to miss him this weekend. He’ll come back on Monday, right?”
Bowie leaned against the side of his truck, leaving the door open so Brystol could continue to visit Luke. “He goes everywhere with me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s a small town; everyone knows him. He usually stays in my truck or comes in with me while I’m running my errands.”
“That’s so cool. Most of my mom’s clients have little dogs. They are the pampered kind that are carried everywhere and eat off plates at the dining room table. Luke’s awesome, though. He loves to play.” And will never be pampered, Bowie wanted to say but held back.
“Where do you and your mom live?” Bowie knew the question was out of order, but he didn’t care. He wanted to know and knew Brooklyn would never tell him. He banked on Brooklyn not being forthcoming about life where he was concerned, and he was certain that if she had said anything about Bowie, Brystol wouldn’t be standing here with him right now.
The girl shrugged. “Nowhere really. During the summer I stay with my grandparents in Seattle or with Nonnie here.”
If he had been the friend he was supposed to be, maybe he would’ve been a part of the girl’s life. He could’ve been a father figure to her, unless Brooklyn had someone filling that void. Bowie hadn’t given much thought to what Brooklyn had been up to or where she had been until this moment. He found himself wanting to know everything about her, much like he had fifteen years ago. “And your mom?” he asked, letting curiosity take over. “Does she come stay here as well?”
Brystol shook her head. “My mom works a lot, different places.”
“In Seattle?”
“No, we came from Arizona the other day. Before that we were in Tennessee.”
He was thoroughly confused by her answer. Surely, Brooklyn had a home where she raised her daughter, and where her daughter went to school. But from the sounds of it, that wasn’t the case.
“I know your mom travels for work, but where do you live? Where’s your house?”
“Oh, we don’t have one. We just move from job to job.”
The kid was kidding, right? There was no way Brooklyn was raising her daughter like they were in a traveling circus. Bowie was at a loss for words. He wanted to pump her for more information but didn’t know where to start. If she suspected anything, she wasn’t saying, choosing to focus on Luke and not his idiotic questions.
“Brystol, come get cleaned up so we can go downtown.” Simone’s voice rang out, causing the girl to jump.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” Bowie heard her say to his dog. “Bye,” she said to him, giving him a little wave as she ran toward the house. From where he was standing, he could see Simone holding the door open for Brystol. By chance, he looked toward the second floor of the house, just in time to see the curtains sway and a shadow move out of view. Was it Brooklyn? Was she watching him with her daughter?
He decided to snoop more and went over to her car. “Florida?” He looked back at the house, tempted to go knock on the door and beg her to just talk to him, but he couldn’t. The less he knew, the better off he’d be when she left.
Bowie hopped into his truck and banged his hands against the steering wheel. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand his frustration. Brooklyn had left him. She had left all of them. He shouldn’t care why she was back or what she had been doing the last fifteen years.
But he did, and he hated himself for it.
He had long forgotten her, given up on trying to find her, and yet, here she was. He had thought things would be different when they came face to face, that she would apologize for leaving, beg him to forgive her, but she had simply brushed him off as if he were a stranger.
Bowie drove home in a daze, his cell phone vibrating on and off in his pocket during the entire journey. He had to carry Luke from the truck because the dog was dead tired and refused to budge. He couldn’t even lift his head when Bowie told him they were home. As soon as he stepped onto his porch, he set his dog down so he could open the door. There was a slight movement off to his side. The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose in warning. If someone or something were to attack him, Luke wouldn’t be able to defend him. In fact, his dog wasn’t even growling. “Some guard dog you are,” he mumbled into the open air.