I sighed, drank some tea. It was getting cold.
“Chrissy was the one who finally figured it out. One day, Dani and I had a huge fight. She packed up her bags and said she was going to live with her sister. Honestly, it was a relief to see her go. I was just worn-out with her. And I really thought that spending some time with her sister might be good for Dani. They were very close when Dani was little. For a few days, it seemed like it was going to work out, but then Chrissy caught Dani raiding the medicine cabinet and, well . . .”
I let the rest of the story lie. There was no need to say more, at least not right then. It wasn’t like the story of Dani’s spiral into addiction and homelessness was all that singular. Thousands of parents across the country could have told a similar tale. Malcolm squeezed my hand.
“This wasn’t your fault. You know that, don’t you?”
I bobbed my head obediently.
“So Chrissy keeps telling me. And I’ve said it to myself, a million times or more.” I pressed my lips together. “Saying it is one thing. Believing it is something else entirely. It’s hard, Malcolm. Every single day.
“About a year after Dani disappeared, I went to the liquor cabinet and realized that the vodka bottle was nearly empty and that I was the one who had emptied it. After that, I started stepping up my volunteer work, spent more time gardening and helping out at Rainbow Gate. In theory, I was supposed to be rescuing the dogs, but I think it was the other way around.” I lowered my head, gazed into Blixen’s beautiful brown eyes. “Whoever said that diamonds are a girl’s best friend never had a dog.”
Malcolm nodded. “Sometimes I think they’re the only truly selfless creatures on God’s earth. Well, some of them,” he said, reaching out to scratch Blixen’s head. Blix closed her eyes, sighed her contentment, then tipped her head to one side, making it clear that her ears needed attention as well. Malcolm obliged.
We sat there for a few minutes, sipping tea in silence. When, at last, all of Blixen’s itches had been thoroughly scratched and she went back to the corner, Malcolm took a final sip of tea.
“Would you like me to drive you to Newberg in the morning? It’s a bit of a trek.”
“Thank you, but no. I think Dani would feel more comfortable if it was just the two of us.”
“All right. But if you change your mind, all you need to do is call.” He got to his feet. “I suppose I should be going.”
I walked him to the door. After kissing me good night, chastely this time, on the cheek, he dropped into his thickest Scottish brogue and said, “It’s a lang road that’s no goat a turnin’.”
I smiled. “What?”
“Something my mother used to say—It’s a long road that’s got no turning,” he said. “You’ve walked this road a long time, Nan. I imagine you’ll be walking it a long time yet. Come tomorrow, God willing, you and Dani will be walking in the same direction, the right direction.”
“I hope so.”
“So do I.”
He placed one hand on each side of my face and kissed me once again.
“Sleep well.”
* * *
I didn’t sleep well.
I lay awake wondering how long Dani would need to be in rehab and how I would pay for it. It wasn’t cheap and Dani didn’t have insurance. It could add up to thousands. But if that’s what it took to save her, then I’d find a way. Somehow. I’d sell the house if I had to.
I worried, too, about the detox phase of treatment. It was bound to be rough, and Dani seemed so frail. I worried about whether or not to tell the other kids but decided against it, at least for the time being. I worried about what would happen once Dani completed the program. Would she move into a place of her own? Into a halfway house of some kind? Would she be better off coming home for a few months? Or should she get as far away from Portland as possible?
Finally, sometime after two, I fell asleep and woke up again around six thirty when Nelson started scratching at the bedroom door, demanding to be taken out for his morning wee. Nelson didn’t have the most reliable of bladders, so I put on my bathrobe and crept down the hall.
On the way, I poked my head into Dani’s room, relieved to see her tangled blond hair on the pillow. I tiptoed downstairs, let the dogs out, then started brewing coffee and making toast. Later, I’d make some eggs. In the meantime, a good, strong cup of coffee and a piece of raisin toast should help ease Dani into the new day. She’d never been a morning person.
Once the toast was buttered and the coffee poured, I let in the dogs. They bounded into the house and up the stairs. I followed, carrying the tray. It wasn’t easy with only one arm, but I managed. I could hear the shower running in the guest bathroom and saw the light shining out underneath the door. I carried the tray into Dani’s room and set it down on the dresser.
“Think they’ll be able to teach you to make your bed when you’re in rehab?” I muttered, seeing the rumpled sheets and the quilt lying on the floor. “God knows I never managed it.”
I went back into the hallway
