Free Forget Me Not by Coleen Paratore Page B

Dad?”
    “Henry.”
    I laugh. “Where did you get the name Henry?”
    “I don’t know,” Sam says, laughing, “but I’m sure it made perfect sense at the time.” Sam rubs his hands through fur. The dog rolls on his back and lifts up his paw like he wants to shake Sam’s hand. Sam shakes his paw and laughs, “Good dog.”
    “What happened to Henry?” I ask.
    “He died of old age when I was in college. He lived a good, long life, though, old Henry did. Ruthie and I…we loved that dog.”
    “Speaking of Aunt Ruthie,” I say, “I think I’ve got everything planned for the wedding.” I tell Sam my idea to hold the ceremony in the Labyrinth. It seems only fitting that Sam’s sister should say “I do” there. The Labyrinth is Sam’s creation. It’s a circular garden path. You enter between two shrubs and follow the narrow walkway, looping in toward the center, out toward the border, circling around and around until you reach the stone bench in the middle. Sam says walking the Labyrinth is a spiritual thing for him. Sam has planted perennial flowers and berried bushes all along the borders so that there’s always something beautiful blooming as you walk. It’s funny, though, when I walk the Labyrinth, I don’t focus on the flowersat all. I walk and breathe and wait to hear whatever comes up inside me.
    My mother comes down the steps to join us. “Have you reported this yet?”
    Sam turns and looks at my mother. She folds her arms across her chest.
    “I was just about to do that, Stella,” Sam says, turning back to the dog and scratching behind his ears. “Such a beautiful dog.”
    “Shake my hand, boy,” I say, and sure enough he does.
    “What a smart dog!” I say. I look at my mother. She isn’t melting a bit.
    “Oh, and watch this, Mom,” I say. “He smiles. ” I smile a great big jack-o’-lantern toothy smile at the dog. “Come on, buddy, smile. Smile.”
    The dog looks at my mother and barks.
    “Well, if you aren’t going to call someone, I will,” Mom says. “This dog could have fleas or ticks or rabies or who knows what.” She walks up the stairs and into the inn.
    Sam leaves. “Be right back.”
    I stay with my dog from the sea. I have the strange sense again that someone is watching me. I look up quickly at that second-floor window next door. But, no, nothing. I shake it off.
    Sam returns with some leftovers from last night’s dinner. The dog sniffs the roast beef and turns away.
    “I think he prefers seafood,” I say.
    Sam goes in and comes back with a bowl of dry cereal. This is more to the dog’s liking. The Millers are walking up the driveway. They come over to see the dog. Mike the mailman comes and I go to get our mail. Two postcards for me! One from Mum and Riley from Disney World. One from Suzanna Jubilee and Simon on their honeymoon in Italy. “Venice is spectacular,” Suzie writes. “We ride the gondolas every day. And you should see the boys here, Willa. Bellissimo, Bellissimo. We’re coming to visit you in August! I’ll bring pictures. Ciao, bella bebe, hugs and kisses, Suzie Jube.”
    Mum writes, “We met Mickey and Minnie, took a ride in Cindy’s pumpkin, and had breakfast with Pooh. The fireworks show was spectacular, but couldn’t hold a sparkler to Cape fireworks on the Fourth of July. I miss Bramble. Hope you like the new minister. Give my love to everyone. And please tell Stella and Sam to plan a visit. Riley and I would love to show you some Southern hospitality. Love, Mum.”
    There’s a letter addressed to the Bramblebriar Inn, “Attention Rosie.” I note the return address. It’s from Mrs. Chickles Blazer at the Blazers’ California zipcode. They own at least three mansions in this country and a château in Paris, too.
    Hmmmm. I wonder why Mama B is writing to Rosie? It must be about the wedding cake. At Suzie Jube’s wedding Mama B nearly split a seam raving about that wedding cake. She said it was the best she’d ever eaten. “Give me