Chapter 3

Early in the morning, after hearing that my parents were finally returning, I put on my cleanest dress and hurried to Greenwood Orchard Trail to wait for them.

The neighborhood ladies who passed by had grown used to seeing me there. Occasionally, they’d tease me with their sharp tongues.

“Gabe, waiting for your mom again? It’s been years. She doesn’t want you anymore, you know!”

Most days, I’d bow my head like a scolded puppy, clutch my sleeves, and silently cry.

But today, I stood tall, defiant hope swelling inside me.

“She does want me! She’s coming back today!”

A loud honk echoed in the distance, confirming my words like divine proof. I caught a glimpse of her in the passenger seat and ran as fast as I could toward the car.

The vehicle stopped, and my mother, Evelyn Hackett, stepped out.

It had been so long since I’d seen her that her voice sounded strangely soft.

“Baby, slow down…”

I thought she was calling me, and my heart soared. I ran even faster.

But as I reached her, I froze.

She wasn’t calling me.

Gently, she reached back into the car and cradled a small, white dog in her arms.

“Baby, the ground’s dirty. Let Mommy carry you, okay?”

Her “baby” wasn’t me.

It was the little dog swaddled in her arms. Its tiny body was covered in silky fur, and its head was adorned with two dainty pink bows clipped to its ears.

The children in Clover Hill had never seen such an elegant dog before. I didn’t know the breed, but Grandma had always said, “A dog is just a dog, no matter how fancy. It’ll never be a person.”

I stared at the dog, tears welling up uncontrollably.

I didn’t even know why I was crying. Maybe I envied the pretty bows on its head.

Mom had never given me anything so lovely.

No, she’d never given me anything at all.

I remembered her first video call to Grandma after she’d left me in the countryside. I’d purposely wandered into the camera’s view, hoping to see her face and get her attention.

Instead, she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Why does she look worse every time I see her? She can’t possibly be my kid.”

Her disdain pierced the screen like a dagger, straight to my chest.

Maybe if I looked cleaner, I thought she’d like me better. So, at six years old, I learned to scrub clothes and wash shoes.

In the freezing winters, my hands turned red and raw from the icy water, my knuckles cracking painfully so I could be present for her next video call.

What did I get for my efforts?

Grandma scoffed at me, saying I was only pretending to be hardworking so I wouldn’t get scolded.

Mom glanced at my frostbitten cheeks on the call, her look of contempt even more profound than before.

“She looks worse every time. What’s wrong with her?”

She had no idea how much I longed for her to return day after day, season after season.

And now that she was here, calling a dog “baby” while ignoring me completely, the pain hit harder than ever.

At six years old, what did I know about jealousy or heartache?

I just couldn’t stop crying. My sobs annoyed her immediately.

“I told you we shouldn’t have come back. This is exactly why! All she does is cry—so annoying. She’s nothing like my Baby, so obedient and quiet!”

As if understanding her words, the dog yapped in my direction, mocking me.

Mom didn’t scold it. She scolded me instead.

“Stop crying! Look, you’ve scared Baby!”

I stared at her, struggling to hold back tears. My voice cracked as I whimpered, “Mommy…”

She didn’t even glance at me. She turned her back, holding the dog tighter, and walked away.

My father, Nathaniel Hackett, followed close behind her, carrying bags of treats and toys for the dog like her shadow. He, too, ignored me entirely.

I was left in the middle of the path, dazed and forgotten.

That’s when my cousin, Finn Wilder, snickered behind me.

“Your mom’s something, huh? Treating a dog like her daughter. What’s so special about it?”

Eight-year-old Finn was full of curiosity.

When Mom wasn’t paying attention, he lured the dog away with a bone. Holding it in his hands, he teased it relentlessly.

The dog snarled, baring its teeth at him. Startled, Finn flung it aside. The poor creature flailed in the air, landing awkwardly on its feet, only to stumble off the second-floor balcony.

It hit the ground with a sickening thud.

“Baby!”

Mom’s scream tore through the yard.

Finn bolted, leaving me standing there, too stunned to react.

When Mom looked up, cradling her lifeless dog, her eyes met mine.

“Gabe!”

At that moment, I knew I was in deep trouble.