Lymber craft's Arc

Chapter 30 of 70

They came home from the clinic on the fifth day. Paul carried Jett in the car seat. Lymber walked slow with a hand on her stitches. Violetta stood in the front room of the little house with her arms straight down at her sides. She watched Paul set the car seat on the couch. She did not come closer. She turned and threw her sippy cup at the wall. The next two days went bad. Violetta hit the crib rail when Lymber nursed Jett. She poured her cereal on the floor. She climbed into Paul's lap and pushed the baby's blanket off with her foot. At bedtime she screamed until her face went red. Lymber sat on the edge of the bed with milk on her shirt and her stitches burning. Paul stood in the doorway holding Jett. He said, we can't keep going like this. Lymber said, I know. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. If Violetta didn't settle, the whole house would break. She could feel it coming. On the third morning Lymber got dressed and put Violetta in the stroller. Paul stayed home with Jett. She walked Violetta four blocks to a woman down the street who had a litter of pups in the garage. Lymber had heard about them from Polly. She picked the smallest one, a tan girl with one white paw, and paid cash. She carried the puppy home in a towel while Violetta held the leash they had bought on the way. Violetta did not let go of the leash the whole walk. When they came through the door she said, mine. Lymber said, yes. She is yours. You take care of her, and I take care of Jett, and Daddy helps us both. Violetta sat on the rug and the puppy climbed into her lap and licked her chin. Violetta laughed for the first time in a week. That night Violetta walked to the couch on her own. Jett was asleep in Lymber's arm. Violetta climbed up with the puppy under one elbow. She looked at her brother's face a long time. She put her hand on his foot the way she had at the clinic. Then she leaned down and kissed his head. She said, baby. She said it again. Baby Jett. Paul sat down on Lymber's other side. He said, look at that. Lymber looked at her three-bedroom house, at her daughter and her son and the puppy asleep between them, and she felt the walls hold. The wedding list was still on the counter. Her body still hurt. But the house was quiet in the right way now, and she could think about a dress again next week.