Page 29 of The Broken Heart Playlist
I find myself leaning forward too, eager to hear the answer. I’ve always been fascinated by tests—physical, emotional, psychological—and how people pass them. Maybe because life itself is a test. And I’m not sure whether I’m passing or failing.
“A trainer shouted directly in Uno’s face to see how he would react.”
Lisset glances down at Uno, her fierce frown showing her outrage on the greyhound’s behalf. “What happened? Did he pass?”
“He passed,” Gideon confirms.
“I thought he would.”
“That still wasn’t the most important lesson Uno had to learn though.”
“It wasn’t?”
“Nope.”
He smiles into his coffee, drawing the moment out. My own smile itches to escape, but I keep it in. Lisset’s on the edge of her seat in suspense.
“The most important lesson Uno had to learn,” Gideon says, “was that he’s not allowed to eat anyone’s homework.”
Lisset giggles.
When I realize I’m still leaning toward Gideon, I make myself sit back. “How did you get into this? The whole therapy dog reading work?”
“I wanted to do something different with my life,” he responds after a moment. “Uno is good with people, especially kids, so it seemed a natural fit. I guess Uno kind of chose therapy work for me.”
“What line of work were you in?” I ask.
His shrug is dismissive. “Strategic consulting work. Nothing very interesting.”
I cradle my coffee in my hands. It sounds like there’s a history there, one he’s not inclined to delve into. I deliberately squash my curiosity. We all have our secrets. And if I pry too much into his, that might give him license to pry into mine. I’m okay to leave our status quo at half-truths.
“Mom, can I get a glass of water?”
“Sure.”
Lisset skips away to the water station near the counter.
When she’s out of hearing range, I say, “I spoke to Laura Bilson, Lisset’s teacher, and Lisset will be joining your reading session at school next week.”
If Gideon is surprised, he conceals it well. “That’s great. I look forward to having her there.”
“She’s nervous.” Actually, what I mean is,I’m nervous.
“A lot of the kids start off nervous,” he says.
Yeah, but she’s not just any kid, she’s my kid. I tear off a piece of my croissant and chew it slowly.
Uno chooses that moment to rest his head gently on my feet. It’s not a heavy weight, but it feels strange. I shift my feet and tuck them under my chair, out of his reach.
“Kate, I don’t want you to worry,” Gideon says quietly. “I’ll look after her.”
Lisset returns to the table with her water glass. I focus on her, buying myself a moment to collect my thoughts. I can’t seem to think straight when he looks at me like that.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Kate Miller.” The nasally voice cuts through the hum of activity around us. It’s a voice I haven’t missed. “It’s been a while since I bumped into you. Where have you been hiding?”
“Hello, Suzan.”
I make no effort to smile or answer her barbed question. Suzan was in my class at school and the self-appointed leader of the popular clique. I was the girl she and her friends ignored all through high school. When I returned to Brown Oaks, Suzan showed up at my front door to invite me to a cheese and wine evening at her house. The gang will all be there, she said, her patronizing tone declaring I finally made the cut. I declined her invitation. I have no desire to try to ingratiate my way onto her good side or be included in her posse. The mob always eats its own at some point.
