Year of the Dog Read Online Free

time.”
    We had bitter brewed tea and I didn’t ask for lemon or use the cream but drank it straight, nearly the color of coffee. I talked about how early it grew light in the mornings this far north, and how late it stayed light in the evenings. How the summer days were so amazingly long I found myself wanting to take a dawn run along the lake or a late-night walk downtown. “Is it hard in the winter? Having it the other way?”
    â€œI’ve grown to like the contrast.” She sipped her tea.
    â€œI never had a dog before,” I told her, my mind on wishing I’d come dressed in something better than shorts and a tee, my hair just-washed and flying in all directions. “She’s just a puppy—.”
    â€œAll dogs were once puppies,” she commented dryly.
    Silenced by her tone, I wondered what else I could talk about, if she had an interest in hearing what Mom was doing in Peachland or what in a general way was going on these days in our upland part of the state.
    But then Aunt May asked a nice question, as if she realized she’d sort of shut me up. “What made you decide to raise a dog during your year here, Janey?”
    And, grateful she’d asked about that instead of prying into the business of my splitting with Curtis, I told her the wholestory about Mr. Haynes, the blind man who came into the pharmacy all the time because he couldn’t remember which shaped pill was for what ailment and needed reminding. How he always brought his guide with him, the big black lab he called Blind Dog. How I asked him about where had he got the dog and how did they place them with a blind person. And that he’d told me a great lady over in Greenville had raised the dog so it knew just what to do from day one, so he didn’t have to use his blind stick anymore. “I thought about that, because I saw him a lot and had grown fond of Blind Dog who always came in with him. And I figured if I was going to come way up here, and not have my work at the pharmacy for a spell—well, I wanted to at least be doing something for somebody.”
    â€œAs I recall,” Aunt May said, “the Haynes family is black. Is that correct?”
    â€œYes, ma’am, he is. And so is his dog.” And I laughed out loud, I couldn’t help myself, it was a southern joke.
    She smiled. “I haven’t heard the sound of Carolina for years.” Then, setting down her teacup, she took off her glasses to clean them, and that seemed a signal it was time to go.
    Outside, after glancing quickly toward the car to make sure Beulah hadn’t climbed up on the seat (the way a child or an ordinary dog would), I asked my great Aunt May the name of the towering tree with the rough bark and scented white flowers that I’d been living with but didn’t know.
    â€œThat’s a black locust.” She seemed pleased I’d asked. “I like them a lot.” She gestured behind her. “These three are older than the house.” She stopped to pick a twig off the ground. “Perhaps you would like a tree book, Janey. Would you? I have a slew. Librarians seem to accumulate a world of reference books.”
    â€œI would,” I said. And, waiting in the windy air for her to bring it, felt grateful that now I’d have something to tell them at home about my visit to Mom’s remaining blood kin.

4
    AFTER SUPPER, I dug my cell out of my tote bag and called Mom and Daddy. It was no secret they still had mixed feelings about my coming up here. Mom pretended to be chipper about it, how I needed to get away for a spell, but she kept on telling me all the gossip just as if I’d never left, not getting the idea that the whole reason I’d come up here was to get away from everybody like her minding everybody else’s business.
    Daddy couldn’t help being of two minds. On the one hand, he wanted what was best for his girl, on the other he didn’t warm to