The Travels of Zoe, the Wonder Dog
Chapter 7
By Carrie Jacobson
The story so far:
When James Dunning lost his job, it meant losing his home and his dog, Zoe, too. He and his wife had to move in with her mother, who’s allergic to dogs. James took Zoe – who is old and mostly blind – to the shelter in Shohola, Pa., and left her there, in the night. He was too sad and humiliated to do otherwise.
Kaja, a big red dog who’s been on her own for a while, found Zoe and freed her. They are tracking through the woods, heading toward the Delaware, to try to find James.
Ashton and Samantha Morrone are pretty well disgusted with summer so far. It’s great to be out of school, that’s for sure. But it’s rained pretty much every day. Rain and rain and rain and more rain. And their mom doesn’t really want them out in the rain. For starters, she doesn’t want them tracking rain and mud all through the inn.
The second thing, the thing they don’t know, is that she really doesn’t trust the river any more.
The Morrones bought this place, the Tow Path Inn in Barryville, in 2001. Pete thought it was a good idea. He would cut back on his work at the law firm in Goshen, the kids would get to grow up by the river, and he and Angie would do what they’d always wanted: Run an inn.
They’d be busy in the summer, and probably in the fall, too, but they’d take it easy in the winters, and probably close down for a month or so and take a vacation. Go to Italy or Spain, some place warm and exotic, take the kids out of school and give them whatever lessons they’d need. It would be great!
Angie leans on the edge of the kitchen sink, and watches the raindrops hit the river, and remembers Pete’s face when he’d come up with the idea. He’d looked like a kid. He’d looked like he’d looked when he was 12, and he’d come over from next door to show her a bird’s nest or a snakeskin or a glittering rock. Looked like he’d looked when he’d gotten into Brown, and when she’d gotten into Brown. Looked like he’d looked when she said of course she would marry him.
And now he’s gone, and has been gone for three years, and she’s left with the inn, the kids, the insurance money, and a life’s worth of memories. She rubs her eyes and empties her coffee cup and talks to him, silently. She only talks aloud to him these days when the kids are asleep or she’s alone in the car. There are almost always guests at the inn, and the kids are getting old enough now to remember. She doesn’t want them looking back and remembering her as a crazy mother who spent her days talking out loud to her dead husband.
She steps out on the deck and peers down toward the river. The kids are still in the screen house. She can see the tops of their heads, and can hear their voices going up and down. She can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re talking and laughing about something, and she thinks that’s all she needs to know.
It’s not.
Ashton, who’s 7, and Samantha, 9, are plotting. They’ve started building a fort, at the very edge of the Delaware. It’s anchored in a thicket of fallen trees there, trees that the most recent flood wove together. It’s hidden from the inn now by vines and leaves, and so Angie doesn’t know about it.
Ashton and Sam have built a sort of raft of twigs and branches, balanced on the fallen trees’ larger limbs. They’ve put some walls up, too, but these are just to hide their fort-raft from prying adult eyes.
Now, in the screen house, they’re plotting. The fort is great as a fort. But it needs a place where they can cook, a fire ring or a grill or something. And it needs some places where they can sit. And it also needs some short walls, sort of edges, so that when they take it out on the river, their stuff won’t fall off.
Sam is making drawings and planning. She’s being pretty bossy, but for once, Ashton doesn’t mind. It’s a great plan, a fort that’s also a raft, and it was all her idea. He can hardly wait to finish it and try it out.
Carrie can be reached at carrie@zestoforange.com
Tags: Carrie Jacobson
