Page 141 of Lily In The Valley
One Year Later
The lake lookedlike it’d been poured straight out of a dream. Still as glass, surrounded by pines so tall they touched the clouds. An A-frame cabin sat nestled in the trees, all dark wood and big windows that drank in the water. Karter barked once, then took off down the dock, paws slipping on the damp wood before he launched himself into the water with a splash that made me laugh out loud.
“You sure he was meant to be a city dog?” I called out, watching his tiny body paddle with Olympic confidence.
“He’s a Gemini,” Khalil said from the porch, lifting his coffee mug. “They adapt.”
I turned, giving him a look. “You’re making stuff up now.”
“You let him eat off your plate yesterday when you thought I wasn’t looking. I get to make stuff up.”
It was our third day in the mountains. A long overdue escape, far from Seattle, far from pagers and labs and hospital rounds. No itinerary. No plans. Just us and Karter, living his best wilderness era.
I sat on the edge of the dock, legs dangling, coffee warming my hands. Khalil came behind me, draping a throw blanket around my shoulders before sitting at my side.
“You good?” he asked.
“Mmhmm.”
He leaned in, kissing the corner of my mouth.
“Still the best choice I ever made,” he murmured.
“Booking this place?”
“Loving you.”
My heart tugged, familiar and full. “In all my years of knowing you, not once could I say you were poetic.”
“Nah,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Sometimes I just say it plain. You’re my person.”
I bumped his shoulder. He bumped back, then pulled me to his side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders like a tether. He whistled, calling Karter.
“Big Dog, come see!” he yelled out to the water. Karter swam back toward the dock, whimpering theatrically until Khalil helped him up, wrapped him in a towel, and sat back down with him in his lap.
“His name is Karter,” I said, snatching my baby back. “Not Big Dog.” Karter sneezed, making us laugh.
“God bless the truth,” Khalil muttered, grinning.
The sun climbed higher behind the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a hawk called out, its wings slicing the sky. The day stretched ahead like an open palm.
By day two, I noticed something with Khalil was off. Not loud or obnoxious, just enough to give me pause. Twitchy. Too agreeable. Folding blankets that were already folded. Checking his phone like he expected news from a number from the deep beyond. That morning, I caught him cursing the firepit, rearranging logs like they’d personally offended him.
“You good?” I asked, using his usual question against him. I leaned against the railing. Karter and I looked on, curious. He trotted over to Khalil, barking at the logs as Khalil moved them around.
“Yeah,” he said quickly, not looking up. “Just making sure the coals catch.”
I raised my eyebrow. “There’s no fire, Khalil.”
He shrugged. “I’m being proactive.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re being weird.”
Finally, he turned to me and blinked, expression innocent like he hadn’t taken ten minutes to stack three pieces of wood. Karter barked at me, defending him.
“Really, Karter? You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I told you that’s my Big Dog.”
