Say No More (35 page)

Hunter sat beside me, pulled me gently to him, and lifted my head into his lap, so I could see the hills, green as the greenest green that ever was, one last time before I closed my eyes again.

And there on the hills, the sheep were all scattered about. Eating, as always.

I
see him!

My heart is ten sizes too big for my chest. It thumps so loudly that for a few moments I can’t even hear him call my name.

Squatting down halfway across the bridge, Hunter throws his arms wide. He looks older than I remember. Maybe in his thirties, possibly early forties. His shoulders are broader and his chin and cheeks are covered with light scruff, like he’s been too busy to shave for a couple of days.

I run to him. Great, bounding strides, the tall grass whipping across my forelegs as I leap high. My body is light as air. Gems of light sparkle in the dawn sun’s corona, throwing spears of gold across the sky. Bands of fiery orange and pink streak above the horizon.

I near the banks of the river. The water, deep and wide, is so clear I can see all the way to the bottom. At the edge, I glimpse my reflection. Gone are the traces of gray around my muzzle, the cloudiness in my eyes. Ripples distort my image and I look up. He’s still there. This is real.

Shaking his head, Hunter smiles faintly.

Curious, I remain where I am. “What is it?”

“There are dogs here?”

“In heaven? Of course there are. Did you ever doubt it?”

“I guess I just never thought about it. But I’m glad.” Rising, he shoves his hands in his pockets, the same way he always did. A white mist curls around his legs, making it look as though he’s standing on a cloud above me. “I saw you in a dream once, Halo. You were right beside me. I reached down, touched your head. Felt your fur beneath my fingers. Like you were really there.”

“I
was
there. I knew you were sad, so I had to let you know I was okay.” I move onto the bridge, take one step, and then another. My toenails click on the planks as I climb the arch of the structure, bands of yellow and red and violet stretching onward beneath me.

“Halo,” a deep voice calls from behind me, “come here.”

“Dad?” Hunter says.

I stop, look back.

Cam waves at his son. But he doesn’t approach him. He’s wearing worn jeans and a white T-shirt beneath an untucked blue plaid shirt, like he’s ready to go to work on the farm. Bit lies next to him, her body stretched out to warm in the morning sun.

“It’s not your time,” Cam says to Hunter.

“I just needed to know —”

More firmly, “You have to go back.”

“Why?” The joy fades from Hunter’s face. “You tell me that every time. Why can’t I be here, with you?”

“Because you still have work to do. They’re relying on you.”

“Who is? What work? I don’t understand.” Creases of frustration form on Hunter’s forehead. He clenches his fists at his sides.

“You will. You just have to trust me.”

“But ... I’m not afraid to die.” Hunter’s voice grows quieter, less insistent. “I’ve been ready my whole life.”

“I know
you
are.” On the hill behind Cam, the leaves of the great oak rustle in the lightest of breezes. “But maybe heaven’s not ready for you.”

A spark of reluctant understanding flickers in Hunter’s pupils. There’s no arguing the point, he knows. More than once, I’d flirted with death, too, only to find out that it wasn’t yet my time.

Hunter starts back over the bridge, away from me. The joy that had seized me a minute ago dampens.

I take a few more steps. “Hunter?”

He looks at me. “Yes?”

“When someone dies, they never stop loving you. Tell everyone that. Tell them we’re waiting at the bridge, that we’ll see each other again.”

Several moments pass as he looks down at his feet. Then he raises his eyes. “It’s so hard to wait.”

If only I could make him understand that a year there is only a day here.

His eyes glisten with tears. He fights to hold them back. “It hurts not to have you with me anymore.”

I understand all too well. When Cam died, my life turned upside down. When Bit was poisoned, I wanted to die, too. And when Cecil departed, a dull ache filled my chest. But always,
always
there had been someone else to love, to comfort, to discover new joys with. Sometimes, it just took awhile to figure out who.

“The hurt is trying to tell you something,” I say.

“Tell me what?”

“That you still have love to share.”

He glances toward the great oak, then out at the slowly flowing river. “Will the hurt go away then? I mean, if I find somebody ... another dog, even?”

“Mostly. But the love ... the love only grows bigger each time you spread it around. And when you come here for good — when it’s time — you get to experience all that love all over again.”

He says nothing at first. I wonder if he doesn’t believe me. Then he nods. “I suppose that’s worth waiting for then, huh?”

“It is.” I smile at him. And yes, dogs do smile.

“Goodbye, Halo.” He waves at me. “But not forever, right?”

“The only ‘forever’ is in this place. And here ... there are no goodbyes.”

H
alo is many dogs — a compilation of all those I have ever raised or trustingly sent off to new homes. She is the shy dog who we thought had run away, only to discover her a day later, shivering and tucked in a hole she had burrowed beneath our sidewalk, afraid to come out for fear of being reprimanded for her excavations. She is the brave and protective dog who came to my rescue when another dog bit me in a rage and wouldn't let go, the same one who wouldn't leave my bedside for two days as I recovered from my stitching up. She is the busy, thinking dog who was returned to us after being left alone in a room by herself at a young age for hours and who alleviated her boredom by ripping out drywall and starting on the electrical wires. She is the dog who was abandoned in an outdoor kennel as winter approached and visited by concerned neighbors only once a day when the owner suddenly moved to another town to care for her elderly mother without making long term plans for the animals she had collected over the years.

I cannot imagine my life without dogs in it. They have been my protectors, my uncomplaining companions, and my much under-rewarded therapists. In my youth, I was the kid who gained the trust of the neighborhood strays, much to my parents' dismay. Through patient observation, I knew when to bend down, when to offer a treat, when to extend my hand, and when not to. Dogs give us their trust when we earn it, when we have proven we mean no harm, that we truly want to be friends. Dogs also know things about us that we do not. They sense our fears, our pains, our contentment, and our joys.

They do all this without ever saying a word. They watch. They listen. They perceive what is never spoken aloud. They are always there for us, asking so little in return. We should all have more true friends like that.

When you're lucky enough to find your ‘heart dog', the one whose soul is connected to your own, you realize you don't ever want to be without them. The sad fact is, however, that dogs don't live as long as we do. And so when we must say goodbye, we do so with profound sadness, knowing we're laying a piece of our hearts in the grave alongside them. Then, because we find it so hard to live without the fierce loyalty of a dog, their selflessness, and their unbridled joy for everyday things, we bring another into our lives and the cycle is repeated yet again.

The story is often told of a place called the Rainbow Bridge, where all our beloved pets wait for us until we pass over to the Other Side to join them. Whether or not such a place exists, I don't know. Nobody has ever produced proof of it. But knowing and believing are two different matters.

There are some things I do believe, however. Dogs have souls, I'm sure of it. I can see it when I look in their eyes.

H
eartfelt thanks go out to the members of Team Say No More, who helped bring this story to its final stages: Sarah Woodbury, Rebecca Lochlann, and Julie Conner. Special thanks to Linda Mahoney for lending her stock dog training expertise on this novel. Your wisdom, honesty and encouragement have been invaluable.

N
. Gemini Sasson is a serial remodeler, intrepid gardener, runner, and dog lover. She lives in rural Ohio with her husband, two nearly grown children and an ever-changing number of animals.

Long after writing about Robert the Bruce and Queen Isabella, Sasson learned she is a descendant of both.

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www.ngeminisasson.com

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The Faderville Novels:

Say No More

Say That Again

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Sam McNamee Mysteries:

Memories and Matchsticks

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The Bruce Trilogy:

The Crown in the Heather: Book I

Worth Dying For: Book II

The Honor Due a King: Book III

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The Isabella Books:

Isabeau: A Novel of Queen Isabella and Sir Roger Mortimer

The King Must Die: A Novel of Edward III

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Uneasy Lies the Crown: A Novel of Owain Glyndwr

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In the Time of Kings (A Time Travel Adventure)

Did you love
Say No More
? Then you should read
Say That Again
by N. Gemini Sasson!

A little girl's love. A dog's courage.

Echo’s life hasn’t been easy so far. Mistreated by one owner after another, he’d rather just learn to get by on his own. Still, he longs for his ‘forever home’, where he can be loved and cared for. Not until he meets young Hannah McHugh does he learn to trust again. Hannah not only understands him ― she
hears
him.

Before the accident, Hannah already felt like she was different from other kids. Now, animals are speaking to her ― and no one believes her. Her sister calls her a liar. The kids at school make fun of her. Her teacher labels her as imaginative. And the psychologist hints that she’s troubled. Even her own father, Hunter, tells her she should keep it to herself. Only with her dog Echo, an Australian Shepherd, at her side does she feel truly safe and accepted.

Then, the reclusive Heck Menendez moves in next door. The last thing he wants is a little kid and her dog hanging around. Yet Heck is the only person outside the family that Hannah trusts — and sometimes the only one her family can rely on to keep an eye on her.

When Hannah and Echo disappear, rumors run wild about old Heck. Hunter wants to trust his gut, but time is ticking away.