Page 69 of The Moment They Can Never Forgive
His little head tilted, and he gave her a soulful look.
“Hudson is going to love you, so prepare yourself for lots of cuddles and stick throwing, bud.”
She moved to the long benches. More tools and tarps, plus other farm-like stuff, but in here it was all folded neatly or stacked, unlike in the other barns. Looking up, she noted the rafters held wood and joinery.
Leah saw the shape then, under a cover. Moving closer, she raised an edge. It was her father’s old pickup, one of the few things he’d ever treasured. It had rust marks and dents all over it but had always run because he’d made sure of it. However, she doubted it would now, after seven years without being used.
Unlike his daughters, who’d fended for themselves because he hadn’t cared for them, this had been looked after meticulously. Begrudgingly, her father had also taught Leah and Cassie to drive in this after they’d begged him multiple times.
Tugging the cover off completely, she felt tears sting her eyes.
“More memories,” she whispered, bending to stroke the dog’s head. It felt good to have him there, even if he was a dog. Good to have the comfort of not feeling alone in that moment as she walked down memory lane.
It was red-and-rust-colored and old. He’d once told her that one day it would be worth a lot of money, but that didn’t matter to him, as he wasn’t selling it.
Reaching the driver’s door of the pickup, Leah opened it and then climbed inside. The dog leaped in, too, and landed in her lap.
“You need to take the passenger’s seat, bud, if I’m going to get this thing started.” She nudged him onto it.
Bending, Leah ran her hand under the seat. Her father had always kept a spare key there. Only she and Cassie knew aboutit because he told them, but she was never sure why, as he had forbidden them to drive his truck alone. Her fingers touched the cold metal of the set of keys. She pulled them out and fitted one into the ignition.
“The battery is probably dead,” Leah said as she turned the key. Sure enough, it didn’t fire to life. “Which makes sense,” she said to her little passenger.
She got back out and wandered around the space, and under a bench hidden behind some more crates, Leah found several batteries. Two of them were brand-new. She picked up one of them, put it on the bench, and then plugged the charger in.
“Right, dog, let’s go. We need to get Hudson, and then later we’ll come back and drive that pickup because it’s now my pickup.” That made her smile. A small rebellion that her father would never know about, but she did.
They drove into Lyntacky with the windows down, letting in the afternoon breeze.
Stopping outside the school gates, she watched her nephew run toward the car. Opening the door, he stopped when he saw the dog.
“What’s that?”
“A dog. More importantly your dog. A friend needed a home for him, so I thought you’d like him. What do you think?”
Hudson’s eyes were wide as he looked at her. “Really?”
“Really. Now get in, and we’ll head home.”
He climbed in and lifted the dog onto his lap. The pup instantly licked him.
“I’ve never had a dog,” Hudson whispered.
“Well, now you do,” Leah said. “Right now he’s called dog, so maybe you can come up with a better name for him?”
“What if he doesn’t like it?” Hudson asked, stroking the dog’s head.
“He’ll like it better than dog, believe me. So, let’s think about this,” Leah suggested. “He’s rust-colored, so there’s Rusty. Or you could go with a food you like?”
Hudson tried the name out. “Rusty.”
They discussed names thoroughly until they arrived home. Hudson then sprinted inside with the dog following him. Clearly, Leah had been ditched by her nephew in favor of the dog. She heard the thunder of feet on the stairs as he took his bag up. Then he was back, jumping the last few steps and running into the kitchen with the dog on his heels.
“More good news,” Leah said. “Your tree house is finished. So you need to thank Deputy Dan when you next see him.”
Hudson pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Leah asked, dropping down before him.
