Page 36 of The Heart That Breaks
“In the kitchen, honey,” she calls back.
“Come on,” I say, waving to Ann-Elizabeth and Henry. “Let me introduce you.”
They follow me through the foyer and down the hallway that leads to our kitchen. Henry stays close to Ann-Elizabeth, as if he’s afraid he’s doing something wrong and that he’ll be kicked out at any moment.
The room is bright and sunny, windows on two sides of the room so that it’s almost always full of light. Mom is washing some peaches at the sink. She turns when we walk in, wiping her hands on a dish towel and smiling at Ann-Elizabeth. “Hello,” she says and then spots the dog. Her smile widens. “Well, who do we have here?”
“This is my friend Ann-Elizabeth and Henry. We’re going to practice some music.”
Mom walks over and sticks out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ann-Elizabeth. And Henry.”
Henry’s tail thumps against the tile floor. “Does Henry like peaches?” she asks, looking at Ann-Elizabeth with a smile.
“I don’t know,” she says. “He’s never had one.”
“May I?” Mom asks, holding up a slice.
“Sure,” Ann-Elizbeth says, with a look of appreciation on her face. And I know it’s because she’s not used to Henry being treated this way by anyone other than her.
She holds the peach out. Henry sniffs it for a second and then tentatively takes it from her hand. We watch as he chews it slowly and then sits, looking up at Mom as if he’s ready for another.
Mom laughs and offers him another piece. “What a sweet boy he is, Ann-Elizabeth.”
“He is,” she says, and I realize my mom has already found a way straight into Ann-Elizabeth’s heart.
“If you two are heading to Dad’s studio, Henry can hang out here with me.”
“Are you sure?” Ann-Elizabeth asks.
“Absolutely,” Mom says. “The truth is, I’ve been trying to talk Dad into getting a dog for some time now. I’ll enjoy the company.”
“That okay?” I ask Ann-Elizabeth.
“Sure,” she says, giving my mom a shy smile.
“All right,” I say. “We’ll be out back, Mom.”
She gives Henry a pat and tells him she’ll be back in a bit, then follows me out of the kitchen, a slightly worried look on her face.
“Sure you don’t want to bring him with us?” I ask.
“His favorite place is the kitchen,” she says, a note of sadness in her voice. “He’ll love it.”
I realize again how unfair it is that she can’t keep Henry inside her own house, and the injustice of it gnaws at me. For now, I decide to focus on what we came here to do though and determine to get her mind on it as well.
Dad’s studio is at the corner of our backyard. I lead Ann-Elizabeth across the grass, opening the door and flicking on the light.
“If the kitchen is Henry’s favorite place,” I say, “this is mine.”
I glance at her, see the smile that lights her face, and I’m really glad I brought her here today.
“It’s incredible,” she says, glancing at the guitar-covered walls and the big table at the center of the room that holds my dad’s recording equipment.
“Yeah,” I say. “My heaven on earth.”
“I can see why,” she says, running her hand along the face of one of the guitars.
“That belonged to Vince Gill.”
