by Syndi Powell
The words came out of his mouth, but it was as if they belonged to someone else. Heart racing, palms sweating, he tried to swallow at the bile that had risen in his throat. Just act normal, he repeated to himself. This will pass. It’s all okay. You’re okay.
Oblivious to his distress, Dr. Samples stood and sighed, then gave a nod to the three trainers who started to leave the office. However, the third dog glanced back at him, then jerked away from her trainer to come and stand next to Beckett. She leaned against his pant leg, and he looked down at her. Dr. Samples observed Beckett for a moment. “Are you having a panic attack?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten as she’d taught him. The dog leaned even closer to his leg, so he bent and gave her a weak pat on her head.
Dr. Samples nodded and marked something on her clipboard. “You may think that the right dog isn’t here, but Phoebe obviously has other ideas.”
“I don’t need a dog.” But he looked down at the dark brown eyes watching him as the dog leaned closer and made a low noise in her throat. Could she really tell that he was anxious? That he felt as if the walls were closing in on him? Could a dog really sense those things?
He looked up at his therapist. “I don’t know what to do with a dog.”
“That’s why we train you along with Phoebe so that you become a team.” Dr. Samples approached the both of them. “She knew that you were having an attack and came alongside you to comfort and calm you. Did it work?”
He examined how he felt. Definitely calmer than a moment ago. His breathing and heart rate had returned to normal. He gave a slow nod. “How did she know?”
“She’s been trained to recognize the signs of a panic attack.” Dr. Samples leaned down and gave Phoebe a belly rub. “She’ll be a good fit for you, I think.”
They made plans for Beckett to meet with Phoebe again in a few days and to take her home for an overnight visit before finalizing the partnership. The trainer gave him a list of supplies he would need for the home visit. The list gave him some relief since he’d never had any pet, much less a dog. He wasn’t sure what was required beyond food and water plus a place to sleep.
The trainer left the room with Phoebe, who paused to glance back at him before going.
He rubbed his face with one hand. What was he getting himself into?
CHAPTER FIVE
WITH THE WINDOW finally completely apart and the pieces laid out on the pattern, the work began on replacing the glass that had been damaged. Russ had brought several pieces from his store inventory that could be used, but Andie could see that he’d been right about needing antique glass for some of the restoration. That road trip had become a necessity.
Together, she, Russ and Beckett scrutinized each piece of glass. Those that would need to be replaced got a large X drawn in black marker. The pieces they could keep seemed to be outnumbered by two to one of those that would be replaced. Andie sighed as Russ marked another piece with the black X.
“So many.”
“With some of these, you have the same glass used in different parts of the window. Replace one, you need to do them all.” He marked another X. “Once we have all of these evaluated, we can make a list of what colors and types of glass we’ll need for the project. Then we’ll be on to the next step.”
Beckett sighed. “So many steps...”
“That was just the beginning, son.” The grin on Russ’s face told her that his favorite part of the process was about to start.
Once the evaluation was complete, Russ called a time-out for a break. Mrs. Thorpe brought dessert downstairs to them on a tray that evening. Cinnamon snickerdoodle cookies had been set on a plate alongside a thermos of coffee and for Andie a mug of chamomile tea.
Andie took a cookie and her mug and sat on a stool. She’d had a job interview that afternoon before coming to the house. Thoughts of it made her sigh. Beckett took a seat on the stool next to her. “That wasn’t a good sigh, was it?”
She shook her head and sipped her tea. “Didn’t have a good day today.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Though he had asked the question, he didn’t look as if he wanted to hear about her troubles. But if he didn’t want to know, he wouldn’t have asked, right? She gave a shrug. “I had an interview for a teaching position, but I don’t think it went very well.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They didn’t say they would contact me at the end. It was just a ‘thanks for your time’ and then out the door moment.” She broke the cookie in half and considered it. “I wasn’t zealous about the job in the first place since it was part-time, but at least I’d be utilizing my degree. And it was a foot in the door, too. Which is a lot more than what I’ve got right now.”
“I thought you taught at the community center.”
“It’s not a paid position at the center, and I do have bills to pay.”
He gave her a look as if she’d said something ludicrous. “And that’s how you evaluate a job? Whether it will pay your bills?”
It’s the reason she’d gotten her degree in art education. While she might have wanted to be an artist, her mother had encouraged her to get her teaching certificate so that she’d have an alternate way to support herself. No Lowman was going to be a starving artist. “Isn’t that what you’re doing with construction?”
“Even if it didn’t pay me a dime, I’d still work on houses.” He peered at her, and she felt as if he was trying to use an X-ray machine to look into her soul. “If money was no object, what would you do?”
She took a sip of her tea to stall for time. “I don’t need you to fix me.”
“It’s just a question.”
One that she didn’t want to examine too deeply this evening. They’d been enjoying themselves, and this discussion had formed a dark cloud in her thinking. “If money didn’t matter, I wouldn’t have taken this position.”
“So maybe this wasn’t the right job for you.”
She had to agree with Beckett’s observation. If she had been offered the teaching position, she would still need to find a second job that could coalesce with her hours in order to be able to pay her bills. It hadn’t been the best fit. “You’re right. It wasn’t the job for me.”
“Why would you want to settle then?”
“I’m not settling.”
He gave her a piercing look. “What if you’d gotten the job and took it but then the perfect job came along? You’re locked into a contract at this point and would have to watch as someone else got it. And all because you settled for something that was good for now, but not forever.”
Wow. He was good. And he’d told her the same advice she would have given someone else in her position. “When did you get so smart?”
He gave her a smile, and she found herself smiling back at him. She bit into the cookie and felt better.
“I had an interesting day too. Looks like I’m getting a therapy dog.”
The idea of the rough-and-tumble contractor with a dog amused her, and her smile deepened. “Like a service dog?”
“Phoebe would be more for emotional support rather than helping me do physical tasks.” He gave an expression of chagrin. “It makes me sound so pathetic, doesn’t it?”
“No.” She couldn’t think of the man beside her as pathetic. He had gone off to war, and she knew that the scars on returning soldiers often weren’t physical. “Dogs can be wonderful.”
“Do you have one?”
She shook her head. “I live in an apartment, so my life doesn’t have much room for pets, much less a dog. But my sister has a big Bouvier named Evie, so I guess you could call me a dog aunt.”
Beckett grinned at this. “Maybe.”
She again shared his smile. “Phoebe, huh? That’s an interesting name choice. In Greek mythology, Phoebe was an Amazon warrior. But that
fits since you’re a warrior yourself, aren’t you?”
He gave a head bob and shifted in his seat, but didn’t expand on his past. She wanted him to open up to her, but as soon as she’d referenced his military past, he scooted away from her. It might have only been an inch or two, but he had physically moved away from the topic. Maybe like her, he didn’t want to delve too deeply into certain areas of his life. She respected his need for distance and changed the subject. “I’ve looked at my schedule and can go on that road trip to Lake Mildred a week from Saturday. How does that work for you?”
He gave a nod. “That should be fine. We’ll need an early start that morning if we want to make this trip in one day, so I could pick you up at your apartment at seven.”
Seven? Mentally, she groaned and protested, but he was right. It would be a long day, so they would need to get on the road at an early hour. She nodded. “How about I pack us a breakfast to eat on the road? And a thermos of coffee?”
“A big thermos,” he answered, his smile returning. “And you’ve got yourself a deal.”
* * *
BECKETT EYED THE dog that lay next to him on his bed. His first training session with Phoebe had gone well the other day, so now he had brought the dog home for an overnight visit. If this worked out well, the partnership would be cemented and the training would begin. But now the dog had gotten into the bed with him, and Beckett wasn’t sure that he should go along with that precedent. “Off.”
Phoebe blinked at him, then laid her head on her paws. Not budging. Beckett stood and pointed to the floor. “Phoebe, off.”
The dog sighed, but obeyed albeit reluctantly. She took her time getting off the bed and heaved another sigh as she circled around the nest of blankets he had laid on the floor. If things worked out, he’d buy her a dog bed, but the blankets would do for the night. After several turns among the blankets and nosing them into place, she lay down and looked up at him with brown eyes that seemed to implore him to allow her on the bed.
For a moment, he almost caved in to her begging, but he shook his head. “No, you lie down there. I lie in the bed.”
Phoebe let out another exasperated breath and buried her nose under her paws. Sensing he’d won this battle, Beckett positioned his pillows against the headboard and retrieved the book he’d been reading before lying down himself.
Two chapters into the story, his eyes burned with the need to sleep. He put the book on his nightstand and turned out the light, hoping for a peaceful rest.
A kid stood in the middle of the road, crying and pointing to the building next to him. Beckett pulled the truck over to avoid hitting the kid while Ruggirello got out to approach him. Beckett knew something was off. Something didn’t seem right. Ruggirello handed the kid a small piece of candy, and he ran off. When Ruggirello turned to come back to the truck, a girl that looked like the kid only older threw a bomb at the truck, which exploded on impact.
Heat. Twisted metal. Trying to crawl through the open window to get to Ruggirello. But he wasn’t there. Only Beckett lay on the abandoned street. He couldn’t call for help. The flames and smoke choked him. He knew another explosion was coming and needed to crawl to safety. He wasn’t going to make it this time. He wasn’t—
Pressure on his chest woke Beckett up from the dream. He reached for his rifle before realizing he wasn’t sleeping in the barracks in Iraq but his own bedroom back at home, the dog lying on his chest. He turned on the light and stared at Phoebe, who watched him with an expression of concern in her eyes. His heart rate returned to normal, and he reached over to pet the dog. She leaned up and tried to lick his chin. “I’m okay, girl. It was just a dream.”
She watched him as if making sure he was really okay. He gave her a smile. “Just a dream. It’s okay now.”
He knew he should make her get off the bed, but waking him from the nightmare seemed to deserve a reward. He patted the space next to him. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”
After all, it was just one night.
* * *
ANDIE HADN’T BEEN able to come for the next session of working on the window, so Russ and Beckett sat on either side of the table, looking over the pieces of glass laid on the pattern. The older man picked up a fragment and held it up to the light. “See how the ripple effect makes it look like the glass is moving. You’ll want to find something like this in a blue-gray or blue-green for the waves.”
Beckett wrote down the information on the list they’d created for their visit to the glass store up north. “I can’t convince you to come with us?” While the idea of being alone with Andie for an entire day excited him, it also scared him to death.
Russ chuckled and shook his head. “You two don’t need an old fogey like me coming and interfering with your courtship.”
“Courtship?”
“I know that’s an old-fashioned word for a modern man like you, but it’s apropos in this situation, don’t you think?” Russ picked up another piece of glass and laid it back down on the pattern before peering at Beckett. “You and Andie are circling around each other like two dogs that are getting to know each other before deciding what to do.”
At the word dog, Phoebe lifted her head from where she rested on an old overstuffed armchair in the corner of the basement. Beckett nodded to her, then turned back to Russ. “We’re not circling each other.”
“I’ve got eyes, and I see how you watch her when she’s not looking.” He picked up another piece. “And how she looks at you.”
Andie looked at him? Russ had to be wrong about that. Yes, he looked at Andie, but she was stunning. A man would have to be blind not to look at her. But what did he have for her to look at? He was damaged. Scarred. Maybe not where she could see it, but spending more time with him would make it clear to her very quickly. “I’m not interested in her.”
“That’s a lie, if I ever heard one. Son, I’ve been around long enough to recognize when a man wants a woman.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want her.”
Russ raised an eyebrow at this admission. “I stand corrected.”
“But nothing will come of it. I’m not looking for a relationship.”
Russ gave a snicker, shaking his head. “Do you think I was looking for one when I met my Pattie? Romance was the absolute last thing on my mind, but one look and I was a goner.”
“When did you two meet?”
Russ smiled and looked off in the distance. “Two months before I shipped out to Nam. I knew I wanted to marry her from the first moment I met her, but I was afraid to leave her a widow. She had other ideas, however, and she’s very persuasive when she’s determined. We married the week before I left.”
“Just a week?”
Russ nodded slowly, still not looking at Beckett. “Her letters and the memories we made together before I left helped me get through some of the worst days of my life.”
Beckett shook his head. “That didn’t happen for me and my wife.”
Russ seemed to shake himself from his trip to the past and glanced at Beckett’s bare hand. “I didn’t think you were married.”
“Not anymore. Another casualty of war.” Beckett ran his thumb against the base of his ring finger. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to touch cold metal there. “She wasn’t much of a letter writer. And my memories of Iraq drove a wedge between us rather than keeping us together when I came home after the second tour. I signed up for a third in the hopes of forgetting about her.”
“War can do that.”
Beckett turned to Russ, peering at him closely. “I don’t know. You and Pattie seem to be so in love.”
“Now, yes. Then?” Russ winced. “We were on the brink of divorce a couple times. She did leave me once, but she never gave up on me.” He picked up another piece of glass. “This red in the lighthouse we can keep. It survived the damage.”
Beckett knew the convers
ation had ended even if he did want to ask more. How had he turned his marriage around? How had he let go of his memories of war so that he could be in a relationship? Had he ever thought of ending it all?
Russ might have wanted to share more if Beckett had asked the right questions, but Mrs. Thorpe called down that coffee was ready. The two men walked upstairs to enjoy the chocolate cake she’d made for their evening together. She had even laid aside a steak bone for Phoebe, who happily gnawed on it in the corner.
After they finished dessert and with the list of the glass they needed to replace, Beckett drove home, Phoebe lying on the passenger seat next to him. He thought about what Russ had said. And thoughts of their conversation brought others of Natalie. The last he’d heard she had married the man she’d met while he was off fighting. Well, he wished them the best. Something he could do now, but hadn’t for a long time.
He parked in front of his house and looked up at its brick exterior. Memories of Natalie were strongest here where they had first lived when they got married. He’d been able to forget her most days, and eventually the nights as well once he moved to a bedroom down the hall from the one they’d shared. He whistled to Phoebe, and they walked up to the front door.
He unlocked the door and opened it to let Phoebe inside before checking the mailbox. Several envelopes indicated bills waiting to be paid, but the last one was larger and addressed in pen with a feminine hand. He checked the return address and paled. M. Ruggirello. He placed it at the bottom of the mail and walked inside the house.
He threw the mail onto the kitchen counter and checked Phoebe’s food and water bowls, both needed refilling and he let the dog outside one last time before bed. Completing that, he continued his bedtime rituals of packing his meals for the next day, then retreating to his bedroom to lay out the clothes he would wear. All of his tasks finished, he had nothing left to do but go through his mail. He walked to the kitchen and opened the bills, stacking them according to the due date, then picked up the card from Ruggirello’s widow. He tapped it against the counter, but couldn’t find the courage to open it.
