Bonded by Accident

But though it was true there was currently radio-silence from the big Kindred, she could still feel him in there, somewhere—like a fly buzzing at a distant window or music turned down so low you could barely hear it.

Stop it, Brandi ordered herself. Don’t think about it and it will go away.

Right, like that strategy had ever worked before. But it was the only strategy she had at the moment so she decided to go with it.

“Mommy,” her daughter Emmie wailed from the other room. “Charlie has my shoe and he won’t let it go!”

Brandi suppressed a sigh and hurried from her bedroom into the living room of the double-wide trailer she lived in with her mother and stepfather. Charlie was the Boxer-Lab mix her mother, Ivy-Mae, had brought home after winning the “grand prize” in her regular Tuesday night bingo game. He was two years old but still acted like a puppy which meant he loved to chew things. If she wanted to save Emmie’s only good pair of school shoes, she needed to get them away from Charlie fast.

“No, Charlie, bad dog—bad dog!” she shouted, rounding the corner and snatching at the Dora Explorer tennis shoe in the dog’s mouth.

Charlie growled playfully and pulled back. The toe of the shoe where Dora’s head was, was clamped firmly between his front teeth. Clearly he thought this was a game of tug-of-war.

“Mommy, he’s gonna tear it! He’s gonna tear Dora!” Emmie was standing there with tears in her eyes, wearing her favorite pink jacket that she had to wear rain or shine, hot or hotter—since they really didn’t get cold weather in Florida. She had her backpack on already and her long blonde hair neatly brushed. She’d gotten the hair from Earl, though her big brown eyes were definitely from Brandi.

“No he’s not.” Brandi had a sudden inspiration. “Emmie, run get Charlie’s chew-toy,” she told her daughter. “The rope with a knot in the middle—go get it, quick!”

Understanding flashed in Emmie’s eyes and she took off like a shot, headed for the other end of the double-wide where Ivy-Mae and Bud’s bedroom was located. Brandi wished for the hundredth time that she could afford to move out of the trailer park, or at the very least get a trailer of her own. But her meager secretary’s salary put that dream out of reach at the moment. Still, maybe if she could scrape up enough money to take a few more night courses…

“Here it is—here it is!” Emmie rushed back excitedly, waving the tough nylon rope over her head triumphantly.

“Great! Thank you, Emmie-bear.” Grabbing the rope, Brandi waved it tantalizingly in Charlie’s face. “Come on, boy—come on. Look, it’s your favorite!”

She tickled the dog’s nose with the frayed end and, as she had hoped, he finally dropped the shoe and grabbed for the blue nylon rope instead. As he shook his head, growling playfully at the rope, Brandi examined the little tennis shoe.

“Eww, Mommy! It gots dog slobber all over it!” Emmie exclaimed. “Dora looks like she’s crying.”

Quickly, Brandi wiped the slobbery toe of the shoe on the cheap carpet.

“Look, now she’s happy again,” she told Emmie, making her voice cheerful although she certainly didn’t feel in the least bit cheerful.

If they didn’t hurry, she really was going to be late and her boss, Mr. Grabbar, would use it as an excuse to write her up. Then he would insinuate that she could get out of any disciplinary action if she would let him grab her ass or play with her breasts. Honestly, the man had no shame and he got harder to deal with every day! Brandi had never let him touch her once but he never let up or stopped trying.

Trying to put the idea of her disgusting boss out of her mind, Brandi slipped the slightly-worse-for-wear Dora shoe back on her daughter’s foot and grabbed her hand.

“Come on, sweetpea or we’re going to be late. You don’t want to miss story time, do you?”

Emmie’s eyes lit up.

“No way! I love story time! Mrs. Smith says I’m the best reader in the class,” she added proudly. “In fact, I’m the only one who can read at all.”

Brandi’s heart squeezed with pride and she bent down to kiss her daughter’s rosy cheek.

“That’s my smart girl!”

Emmie ought to be good at reading, she thought—Brandi made a point of reading with her daughter every night. No matter what else was going on, they never skipped reading time. It was her favorite part of the day and also one of her favorite parts of being a mom. Her Grandma Ida had read to Brandi when she was Emmie’s age, giving her a love of books and learning that was wholly absent in most of the rest of her family.

Brandi remembered with a twinge of longing for her grandmother how she had read all the kid’s classics from The Cat in the Hat to Winnie the Poo to Sunny with a Chance of Meatballs. Of course, for her own reading enjoyment, Grandma Ida had loved those old bodice-ripper romances that all seemed to have a woman in a torn dress swooning over the arm of a muscular, usually shirtless hero.