A Dog Called Homeless: Chapters 17–45

When it’s that quiet, you can hear little creaks and ticks coming from the house. A bump from upstairs and the muffled sound of Dad’s voice. The hum from the fridge.

Sam leaned toward the sound of her footsteps as she left, swigged from his mug, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

We walked across the common, along the open grass, following a path between wide ancient trees and skinny white tree trunks and tangled brambles and bracken.

We walked across the common, along the open grass, following a path between wide ancient trees and skinny white tree trunks and tangled brambles and bracken.

"Conspicuous by your absence, as they say. I would've thought you'd like to stand up in front of everyone and sing your heart out."

“Remember when we did Charlotte's Web in third grade? Your performance, your magnum opus. Remember?"

He plugged in the cord and started playing. His hair billowed like a thick mist. I walked slowly to the door. I liked that he didn’t go on at me or look disappointed. I liked the music he made.

My insides lurched; my head felt like it would pop; I could feel my breath caught tightly at the top of my chest.

I looked into his eyes. I could see a tiny dark silhouette of me.

And I felt the churning and the yearning inside for how Dad had been back then. How he'd listened to her and looked at her.

And I felt the churning and the yearning inside for how Dad had been back then. How he'd listened to her and looked at her.

The doctor pressed my tongue down with a tongue depressor, prodded around my neck, took my temperature.

Dad muttered he was sure Mrs. Cooper wouldn’t mind and something about her taking in any waifs and strays.

"Hello, sunshine,” she said, quickly looking at my yellow painted face while she grappled with the flapping clothes.

A heron took off from its craggy perch on the broken trees at the center of the lake; its wide wings soared above the trees, and it was gone.

“I find it a lot easier, and much more satisfying, I have to say, to find out things for myself. Yes? Otherwise we’re all in a muddle even before we start, aren’t we?”

There was something about the way Rachel drummed. The sound was like a magnet, like when the Pied Piper made all the children follow him.

"I didn’t know the dog was here either," said Mrs. Cooper.
Then we all heard Jed’s quiet, husky voice. “I brought him here.”

Dad’s voice quavered. He turned to Jed. "How do we know you’re telling the truth, that this isn’t some story from Cally’s vivid imagination, some story she's convinced you about?"

I ran faster than I’d ever run before. My chest hurt; my eyes stung from the cold rain. I didn’t stop until I saw the gates and scrabbled through the hole in the bricks.

The rain pelted the surface, and I couldn't see clearly.

I felt Sam’s feeble fingers trying to tap a message on my hand, but I couldn’t feel what he was saying.

The doctor standing at the bottom of the bed said, “We’ll need to keep her in the hospital overnight, just as a precaution."

Inside the box was a new pick for his guitar. It was silver and inscribed with tiny words: Love always, Louise.

He went over to his piano and started rummaging in his piano seat.