Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Shaking my head, I tear my gaze from that spot on the floor and continue my mission to the basement. I find an old blanket and place it in the dryer, setting it on high heat for ten minutes. I’m sure that might seem silly to anyone who saw me, but I’m overwhelmed with the need to do something—just one last thing for our sweet Cherry, who has never been cold, never been without constant love and care.
As I watch the blanket tumble in the dryer, my chest and throat ache with restrained sobs. My body is shaking from the effort to not completely break down, but I refuse to let myself give in. I can succumb to the grief and let myself cry and fall apart later. Right now, all that matters is taking care of Alex and Cherry.
When I carry the blanket outside, I find Alex still sitting on the ground with Cherry’s head in his lap, numbly staring into space. Snow is accumulating on top of them. Every few seconds, he gently brushes the snow off Cherry’s body. I have the horrible feeling that if I wasn’t here, Alex would stay outside all day and night and let the snow bury them together.
That vision makes me so heartsick it feels like an iron fist is clutching my heart and won’t ever let go.
My brain struggles to grasp that this is real and isn’t just a horrible dream. Earlier, Cherry had eaten her breakfast, walked across the yard with us, then happily settled in her favorite spot. She raised her head and wagged her tail when I patted her. Now she’s gone. Just like that. Snatched away from us in a heartbeat. It’s a terrifying reminder that we only have the moment we’re in. Our next breath, our laters and tomorrows aren’t promised. They are merely gifts. Death is a thief who doesn’t care about plans, hopes, dreams, or those who love us.
Somberly, I cover Cherry with the warm blanket. My throat wells with pain, remembering how she loved for me to lift her up onto the couch and snuggle under the throw blanket with her.
Alex maneuvers himself out from under her, ever so gently laying her head on the ground, and disappears toward the shed.
While he’s gone, I stroke her fur, wanting to memorize the feel of her soft coat between my fingers and the way her dark eyelashes look like tiny feathers against her red coat.
“Thank you for being such a good girl and for always making sure I was safe,” I whisper. My fingertips tingle as I pet her, the tiny zaps coursing through my veins to my chest and scalp. My eyes blur with fat tears. I press my lips to her fur. “I’ll never forget the day Daddy brought you home and put you in my arms. I loved you instantly, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life, Cherry Pop.”
“Penny?”
Momentarily light-headed, I shake my head and turn to him.
My stomach pitches when I see Alex standing next to me with a shovel.
I wipe my eyes and stand, shaken at the grim reality of what the shovel means. “Alex, let me call my boss. You can have her cremated. The ground is frozen—”
He shakes his head vehemently. “No, I don’t want her in a jar. She’d want to be out here, free with the breeze and the roses, close to us.”
“Okay,” I say, understanding. “Then I’ll help you.” I hug myself against the cold air and shake the snow off my head. It’s coming down faster now.
“No.” His gaze is riveted on Cherry. The muscle in his jaw is twitching. “I need to do this alone. Go inside where it’s warm.”
“Alex…” I can’t stand the thought of leaving him and letting him do this alone when he’s upset.
“Please, Penny. I need to do this.” He swipes his damp cheek with the back of his hand. “Don’t make me argue with you.”
Reluctantly, I go back in the house, but I feel like a gigantic chunk of my own heart is being buried along with a very special red fuzzy dog.
Chapter 21
PENNY
Inside the house, I can’t stop pacing and noticing things that make me start to cry all over again. Cherry’s dishes. Her bed. Her toys. Stray tufts of fur on the floor like tiny tumbleweeds. The house is deafeningly quiet but also screaming from every corner.
When I can’t take it anymore, I pick my phone up from where it’s still on the floor and call Lily.
“Hey, what’s up? You miss me already?” she says when the call connects.
“Lily…” My voice cracks before I can get another word out.
“Penny, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“It’s Cherry.”
The other end of the phone goes silent.
“What do you mean?” she finally says. Her tone is flat, void of the playfulness it held a few seconds ago.