Thirty-Four

I had a lot of visitors that summer. Iris and Hayley came to Black Hall to see me on some weekends, and Abigail did, too, once she got out of Shoreline General, and between visits to her new doctor in Providence.

Detective Tyrone would visit with updates. Fitch had been arraigned for murder, attempted murder, and kidnapping. His mother had hired him one of the best lawyers in Connecticut, but there was no chance of him being free anytime soon—in fact, probably not even in his lifetime. He was being held without bail, as an adult, in a prison near the Massachusetts border. There would be psychiatric tests to determine if he was sane. Detective Tyrone warned me that he would probably try for an insanity defense. But she said that was unlikely to work. Fitch had known exactly what he was doing.

Abigail would testify to that.

Minerva came over, too, bearing news of her great-aunt. It totally delighted me that Daphne, soon to be 101 years old, was swept away with a whole new flood of inspiration, based on what she called “the new sisters”: Iris, Hayley, Eloise, and me. She was designing a charm for each of us, and I couldn’t wait to see them.

***

One day, when only Abigail was over at my house, we were having lemonade and cookies on the couch. Gram was still sleeping, and Noreen came into the living room with Zoey. She walked the dog straight over to Abigail.

“How are you doing?” Noreen asked.

“Okay,” Abigail replied. At this point, with her unwanted notoriety, she was used to being approached by practically anyone.

“Do you like dogs?” Noreen asked.

Abigail nodded. “All animals,” she said, petting Zoey and impetuously hugging her neck. Zoey wriggled with pleasure.

“Because I have an idea,” Noreen said, crouching down in front of Abigail, kindness in her voice. “I’ve heard you girls talking in here. Not eavesdropping exactly, but you know, working in the other room. And, Abigail, I’ve read about how you have that condition where you stop breathing and can’t wake up.”

“Yeah,” Abigail said.

“Dogs can be trained,” Noreen said to her, “to do almost anything. They’re so smart, Abigail. They really are. Now, Zoey here is spoken for. I’ve been training her to comfort Oli’s grandmother. Because, you know, Oli has had too much responsibility.”

I blushed. Why was Noreen saying that?

“Oli’s lost her parents and her sister. She’s just sixteen, and I don’t want her worrying anymore—all that grocery shopping and housekeeping and looking after her grandma. That’s what I’m here for. Me and Zoey. Zoey’s going to be her grandmother’s support animal. No argument from you, Oli. Okay? You hear me? You’ve got to be a kid. That’s your job.”

I was stunned, but I felt a big smile on my face. I hadn’t seen this coming. Noreen caring about us? I’d thought of her as an employee sent by the agency—good at her job, but not really engaged with my family. Now it seemed she really saw us, really cared. And it meant so much to me, all I wanted to do was throw my arms around her. Because sometimes being seen was all it took. Sometimes it was everything.

Noreen didn’t wait for a response from me. She was completely focused on Abigail, staring straight at her.

“I am very good at what I do,” Noreen said. “A caregiver for humans, and a trainer of dogs. And I can help you.”

“You can?” Abigail asked. She gave a quick, nervous laugh. “You can wake me up before I die?”

“I know someone who can.”

“Who?”

“Zoey’s sister,” Noreen said. “Bella.”

“Excuse me?” Abigail asked, looking confused.

“Bella is just as sweet as Zoey. I’ve been training her, too. I am a home health aide, and I specialize in geriatric care. So I’d been planning to place Bella in the home of another elderly person. But now I am going to change direction. See, dogs have the greatest instincts in the world. They’re descended from wolves, Abigail, and the most important thing for a wolf is to survive.”

“Okay,” Abigail said, listening.

“A dog can pick up on brain waves through scent,” Noreen said. “Detect chemical changes before they have a chance to trigger physical responses.”

“You mean a dog can smell when I’m about to have an episode?” Abigail asked.

“You bet,” Noreen said. “That’s a known fact among dog trainers and behaviorists. Beyond that, I’ve been reading up. Ever since hearing about you, knowing you’re Oli’s friend, I’ve wanted to find a way to help. And I think I have.”

“How?” Abigail asked, her voice a combination of eagerness and desperation.

“There are seizure assistance dogs. Not only do they respond to the scent of chemical changes, but their presence can actually lower seizure activity. Not sure why. Probably because of trust—the bond. An understanding. Empathy. Connection. All those things alleviate stress.”

“Really?” Abigail asked. “It’s been proven?”

Noreen smiled at Abigail. “It’s a fact known to trainers like me, but does that mean it’s made its way into the medical literature? To tell you the truth, I have no idea. But Bella and I would love to work with you on it. What do you say, want to give it a try?”

I stepped over to Abigail. I put my hands on her shoulders to let her know that I was with her, every bit as much as Bella and Noreen would be. I wished I could have had the instincts of a dog, of a wolf, and helped her when we were in the attic. I wished there could have been a canine breakthrough when she was just a child.

So that Fitch wouldn’t have had her to use as a subject. So he wouldn’t have had to hurt any of us. So Eloise would still be here.

“Yes,” Abigail said, petting Zoey’s head. “I would like to work with Bella.” She raised her eyes to Noreen. “And you, Noreen. I’d like to give it a try. Thank you.”

“Okay, then,” Noreen said, her eyes twinkling. “We have a plan.”