Chapter 1: Inconceivable
The dog’s hind leg twitched as she ran in her sleep. A light growl escaped the land of dreams to make the sweet dog sound far more menacing than she was in the light of day.
Gracie smiled as she crossed the room to lay down beside the sleeping Shepherd, putting her hand on the pup’s chest and gently stroking the old girl.
“Chasing rabbits in your sleep?”
At the sound of her voice, Ginger slowly opened an eye. Her tail thumped lightly against the floor, and Gracie reached over to scratch her graying muzzle. What began as a few light dots was now a snowy field of fur with tiny islands of red fighting valiantly to hold off the passing of time. The dog pressed her snout into Gracie’s fingers, maximizing the scritching so they both enjoyed the experience.
“Who’s a good girl?” Gracie asked. “That’s right. You are.”
Ginger was barely more than a pup on Gracie’s first visit to her aunt’s farmhouse and was her favourite thing to come back to each summer. The two spent many hours playing in the yard, usually with Gracie chasing the pup, trying to get a favourite doll back from Ginger’s jaws. The dog always managed to stay just a step ahead, occasionally looking back at Gracie with a hint of a smile, one arm from the doll securely – but gently – locked between her bright white teeth. Gracie giggled as she gave chase, and when she finally stopped to catch her breath, Ginger would bring the doll back, dropping it at her feet. A bit drooly, but relatively unscathed.
On each summer trip to the Escape, as Gracie grew from toddler to teen, Ginger did her best to keep up with her, but nowadays, her naps were longer and her walks were shorter. Gracie knew that Ginger might not be around forever, so she made sure to give her as much love as possible whenever she could.
Ginger’s ears perked, and her head tilted back – without breaking contact with the gentle stroke of Gracie’s hand – and Gracie soon heard the soft steps of her Aunt entering the room. The sleepy dog watched the older woman’s every step, the thumping of her tail quickening against the carpeted floor.
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The woman entered the room. Gracie’s aunt was an attractive woman, well known for her no-nonsense approach to everything. She’d never been married, and as far as Gracie knew, there’d never been a man in her life other than Thomas, the handyman, but that definitely wasn’t a romantic arrangement. If it were one of the movies that Gracie’s mom loved to watch, there’d be a spark between Thomas and Aunt Bee, which would grow into a grudging admiration for each other and eventually turn into true love over the 90-minute story. This definitely wasn’t the case on the Escape. Aunt Bee was a busy woman, and Thomas was the handyman. End of story.
“Don’t feed Ginger all of the treats in the jar, please,” said Aunt Bee as Gracie snuck a crunchy treat into Ginger’s waiting mouth. The pup took the treat, her lips gently brushing Gracie’s fingers.
“No, of course not... I’d neeeeeever do that,” she said wryly, slipping another treat into Ginger and palming a few more for later.
Aunt Bee walked over to the pair on the floor and took the jar of treats, placing them back on the fireplace mantle.
“After our chores tomorrow, I’ve invited a few of the neighbours to come over for cake and ice cream to celebrate your birthday. Is there anything special you’d like to do?” asked the older woman.
“Can we put the top down and go for a cruise along the lake?” asked Gracie.
“I’m sure we can make some time to do that,” the older woman replied. “And if you don’t tell your parents, maybe I’ll let you drive for a bit.”
Gracie had a feeling that this summer was going to be one to remember. She was turning 15; this fall, she’d be starting junior high; and she felt that she was finally transitioning from an awkward preteen into a young woman. She didn’t mind doing chores – she’d never been afraid of hard work – but the opportunity to drive her Aunt’s convertible Mustang with the music blasting and the sun shining was fantastic. And since her aunt was always true to her word, Gracie wasn’t worried that the offer would be casually forgotten. If Aunt Bee said something would happen, you could count on it.
“Should we watch a movie tonight?” asked Aunt Bee rhetorically.
“Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya,” giggled Gracie. “You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
“Inconceivable. I’ll make the popcorn,” replied Aunt Bee.
The two had rented a copy of The Princess Bride at a Blockbuster in the city just before Gracie went home last summer, and after numerous viewings over their final weekend, Aunt Bee found and bought a copy for them. They’d already watched it three times since Gracie’s arrival this summer.
Curled up on the couch, devouring a bowl of popcorn (the two pretending the dropped kernels – which were quickly snarfed up by Ginger – were accidental), they laughed and cried as they enjoyed the movie together.