The Haunted Traveler December 2017 Edition

“Can I go play in it?” Annie skids around the corner, rain jacket askew. She has
pulled the hood over her eyes and can barely see. Amelie glances at the pristine hot pink
rainboots by the door. She thinks of the mess. She’d rather say no. The puppy’s ears
have quirked back. She has grown still, one paw slightly raised, sensing she is about to
escape with her best friend.
“It’s gross out there,” Micah points out, raising his eyebrows at her. “Why would you
want to?” Annie’s eyes light up, and Amelie already knows the answer. The puddles.
Annie loves to leap as high as she can and come down hard in the water, sending
splashes every which way. She loves to roll down hills in the wet grass. She will return,
soaking and laughing and probably already sniffling, but by the time the next storm
comes she will have forgotten it gives her colds to play outside and only remember the
feeling of dancing in the puddles.
“It’s too messy,” Amelie flicks the dishwater from her fingers and wipes her hand
with a dishrag, already prepared to fix her coat and help shove her daughter’s tiny feet
into the clunky boots. “Why don’t you play with her stick in the hall?”
“But she wants to go outside too!” Annie bends over and wraps her arms around
the puppy, and Amelie always worries she’s going to drop the fur baby. “Look at her
Mom. Please.”
Puppy eyes, Amelie thinks, rolling her own. And they’re both doing it. She looks over at
Micah, who has hidden his face behind his coffee mug. His eyes are twinkling. She
thinks of muddy boots and paws and trying to towel both girls off at once. The puppy
will shake off her pure white fur and Amelie will get wet and they will all smell like wet
dog by the end of the evening. Amelie thinks about how the puppy will bark and Annie
will laugh and it will sound like they are celebrating the water together, and she sighs
and opens the door.
The puppy takes off like a shot, bearing right and running a frantic circle around
the patio. She returns and waits for her sister under the lip from the gutter. Annie is
grunting in frustration, trying to pull her boot on. “Hang on,” She says behind clenched
teeth, and sticks her tongue to one side in an effort to improve concentration. The
puppy waits, head perked to one side, panting slightly. Amelie shakes her head and
bends over Annie.
“I’ll leave the door open so I can hear you, but don’t come back in without telling me.
I don’t want you to drip all over the floor.” She looks up, into her daughter’s face, just
in time to see Annie roll her eyes.
“Okay, Mom,” Annie says, and Amelie knows she will have forgotten by the time she
gets outside. She helps the little girl to her feet and sends her out with a playful swat to
her bottom. The puppy takes off again, keeping pace with Annie, barking excitedly all
the while. Amelie shakes her head and starts laying towels out on the tile floor. Micah
shakes his head.
“It’s your mess to clean up,” He tells her, disapproving of how easily she gives in to
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