Kiwi to My Heart by Lori R. Taylor

Author:Lori R. Taylor [Taylor, Lori R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sterling & Stone

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She wasn’t sure how her mother would react to the introduction of a dog, but she was surprised anyway. Harriet sat on the bed when Leslie and Kiwi came in, and she looked up from Leslie’s old laptop and smiled. “Oh,” she said when her eyes landed on Kiwi, still cuddled tightly up in Leslie’s arms. “Who’s this?”

“Mom, this is Kiwi.”

“Oh,” Harriet said again, with a new tone now, one almost of recognition rather than surprise. “Peter’s Kiwi?”

Kiwi wagged her tail as Harriet got up from the bed to step toward her. It thumped lightly against Leslie’s ribs.

Leslie swallowed down her own shock. Did Harriet know about Kiwi? How?

“Yes,” she managed at last. “She’s been at the shelter for the last couple of days, but she’s not doing well there.”

Why was she lying? Leslie wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling that it had something to do with an unwillingness to admit to her failures.

It was one thing to admit the truth to herself. It was an entirely separate thing to tell her mother about it.

She set Kiwi down and turned to her fridge for the bottle of water she’d stashed in there this morning to get cold while she worked.

Harriet paused a step away, just outside of arm’s-reach, and looked Kiwi over. Her gaze snagged on the bald patch at her shoulder, and she crouched down and held out a hand to the little dog. Kiwi went to her almost eagerly, with very little of her usual reserve. “What happened?”

Leslie tried not to frown, realized she couldn’t quite manage it, and hid the expression behind a few large gulps of cold water. “Someone pulled her hair out,” she answered when she could control her tone again.

“No. Who would do such a thing to such a sweet little dog?” Harriet wasn’t talking to Leslie anymore — instead, her question was directed to Kiwi, her voice falling into a soft lilt like people often used with dogs.

Leslie fought against another, deeper, frown. That voice, the lilting, half-sung tone, was the kind of voice mothers used for their children, to soothe and play with them, and it was something Leslie had never heard from her own mother.

Harriet brushed her fingers gently over Kiwi’s curls, letting the tips linger just a little, very lightly, at the sore spots, and Kiwi didn’t flinch even once at the touch.

Leslie blinked, unsure about the reality of what she was seeing. Harriet had never spoken motherese to her, and she certainly had never reached out like that after Leslie was hurt.

Memories came crashing into her thoughts. Her father hurting her, shoving and hitting until she was bleeding, pulling at her hair so it came out at the roots. And Harriet standing aside, shivering at Leslie’s cries, but turning away when Leslie went to her for comfort and safety.

Peter had always been the safe one, for the first few years before he’d left the house. He was the one who held her when she was hurt

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