Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I breathe in, and I shake my head. I already have you. “I’m good.”
The rain has stopped and sky has cleared by the time my dad, Uncle Ryke, and I finish burying Gotham in the backyard. We brought him to the vet. Cause of death: old age.
Now my whole family and most of the Cobalts, Meadows, and even Abbeys gather around the fresh mound of dirt.
“He was a good dog.” My mom tears up, and Aunt Daisy hugs her close.
“I still remember the first day Lily brought Ham home,” my dad says to everyone. “It was around Christmas, and you, kids, were obsessed with him, showering him with hugs like he was the Lord and Savior of All Canines.” He laughs. “Jesus, he was such a goof.”
I smile.
My dad is failing to mention that he didn’t want Gotham. My mom surprised everyone, even him, with the dog, and he only said yes because he saw how much we loved him. That’s how the story goes, anyway.
It was fifteen years ago.
I have an arm around Luna’s shoulders. She wipes her splotchy cheeks with her wrist. “I miss him already.”
Kinney sniffs, stifling emotion, and my dad has a hand on my brother’s hung head. He’s sad.
The air tenses in the silence, and for once, Ripley doesn’t win any waterworks award. He fell asleep in my arms, and I passed him to Jane since she bounced on her toes, eager to hold him.
Eliot crouches and tosses some loose dirt on the grave. “‘Good night, dear heart. Good night, good night.’” He quotes Mark Twain.
Farrow has my hand in his, and I let go to crack another knuckle. I feel like I should say what I’m thinking, so I go ahead and speak. “Death is a strange part of life.”
Farrow looks deep into me. He’s met death way more than I have. Not just with his childhood pet: a guinea pig named Scuttlebucket.
He’s seen people die in the hospital. Patients he couldn’t save. His mom passed away when he was just four.
He almost lost me on a fucking highway.
I joke about living forever, and he reminds me that we won’t exceed a hundred. Maybe he thought I’d be more torn up, but I recognize that this is what happens.
I say more. “All things must come to an end, and as much as I wished Gotham could be immortal, life isn’t infinite. But love is, and we loved him.” I take a beat. “And we’ll still love him.”
My dad nods. “Yeah, we will.”
Everyone pipes in with their own affirmations of love, and gradually, we all start walking back towards the house.
Thatcher and Jane stay by our side, and she speaks in a quick rush. “I wasn’t going to mention anything, but with what happened this morning, possibly it’s fate or just the oddest coincidence.”
My brows furrow. “What is?”
She rocks my baby boy in her arms. “Thatcher and I went to the animal shelter, as we normally do, and they just received the cutest litter of Newfoundlands, a litter of four.”
“Newfoundlands?” Kinney perks up, skidding to a halt in front of us. Hands on her hips.
Xander heard too. “Four dogs?” His eyes widen. “Moffy, you know what that means?”
Yeah, I do.
“Wait, back up.” Farrow holds up a hand. “What’s so special about Newfoundlands?”
“Newfoundlands?!” Luna gasps and reroutes to our spot in the wet grass. Literally the rest of my cousins return to us, until we’re in a giant group huddle.
Aunt Rose is watching with pierced yellow-green eyes from the patio. Probably wondering what the hell we’re all doing.
We’re so not normal.
All the teens start talking at once.
“It’s a sign,” Ben says.
Winona nods. “You have to go get them from the shelter.”
“One for each Hale,” Eliot says.
“Again, back up,” Farrow chimes in. But their enthusiasm drowns out everyone, and I can barely pick apart their words anymore.
I cut in, “Quiet, quiet,” and they all settle down and wait for me to talk. I look to Farrow and explain, “Nana, the dog in Peter Pan that’s hired to take care of the Darlings, is said to be a Newfoundland.”
Realization washes over him. “And your family has a thing for Peter Pan.”
He knows, and he’s just referring to my immediate family. The Hales. Which is why the Meadows and Cobalts, and even Vada Abbey are freaking out for me and my siblings.
“And it’s just like Game of Thrones,” Xander proclaims, a million times brighter than before. My brother is practically glowing. “The Starks found six direwolves for the six Stark children.”
They all start shouting in glee again.
“We just buried Gotham,” I say over all of them, and the mood dies. Great.
Thankfully Jane resurrects it. “That’s what makes this so apropos, I think.”
“For fucking sure,” Sulli nods.
“Mmmhmm,” Winona and the Cobalts chime in. Super supportive of this path. Maybe they can tell how much it’s cheering up my brother and sisters.