“What’s funny?” I asked.
Buddy answered, “She’s for you, sweetheart.”
I blinked.
“From Double H,” Ralphie added.
My eyes flew to Hector.
“It’s selfish,” he said. “I want to know you’re guarded when I’m not home.”
I felt the tears clog my throat.
Then I shouted, “I am not going to cry!” right before I burst into tears.
In a flash, the puppy and I were in Hector’s arms.
He held me, I cried, the puppy squirmed and licked and Ralphie produced a camera and took a photo of the three of us.
It came out beautiful. Hector’s arm around my shoulders, his fingers in the ruff of the dog’s neck, his head bent to us, my forehead tucked in his throat, the puppy looking like she was smiling at both of us (but, really, she was panting).
I named the dog Gretel (she was German).
I put the picture on the mantel in the dining room.
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