She sniffed and tried to smile. When that didn’t work, she said, “You mean because I’m crying in the middle of the pet store on the day after Christmas?”
He shrugged before offering her another whole-hearted grin. “Well, that, and I’ve gotta believe we ran into each other like this for a reason. We’re the only two people in all of Charleston up and about right now, almost like it’s fate.”
“I don’t believe in fate,” Abigail answered quickly.
“But you could use a friend,” he pointed out.
Oh, he was persistent.
She liked that in a way, but did Abigail really want a friend? She found it tiring enough to hang out with her father, and she loved him more than anyone else left in this world. Then again, what could one dinner hurt? Now that he knew her situation, there was no way he’d put the moves on her, and he always had been a good listener…
Okay, then. It was decided.
“Do you like puppies?” she asked with a guarded smile.
Chapter 10
Pastor Adam
Well, imagine my surprise when Abigail returned home with company. I recognized that school boy Gavin right away, and from the awkward expression plastered clear across his face, it seemed he remembered me, too.
Had it really been fifteen years since I’d reminded him to treat my daughter as the lady she is, else he’d be meeting the business end of my shotgun?
True, I didn’t have a shotgun then—still don’t—but he didn’t know that. And it seemed my words had stuck with him over the years, too. He hauled in all the heaviest bags and supplies while Abigail moseyed in with a mostly empty shopping bag that held soft toys for when the puppies were old enough to begin using their choppers.
They still hadn’t opened their eyes, and from the talking to I’d had with Mr. Manganiello just a short bit ago, it seemed they wouldn’t for at least another week. I smiled just thinking where the pups would be in seven days’ time—and, more importantly, where my daughter might be with them. Especially if it only took one small trip out of the house for her to make—or in this case, remake—a friend all on her own.
“Mr. Elliott,” the all grown-up version of little Gavin said with a curt nod in my direction.
“I prefer Pastor Adam,” I told him, trying to recall when exactly was the last time I’d seen him in church on any given Sunday.
“Oh, right,” he said with a laugh. “I forgot since… Well, my folks moved us to the Chapel Assembly when I started dating Abigail. Said my mind needed to be on God—and not girls.”
“Good of them,” I answered with a chuckle. Seems his parents had their priorities straight, and I hoped he did, too. Especially if he planned to spend any significant amount of time with my Abigail. Come to think of it, I couldn’t even remember why he and my daughter had called their young love quits all those years ago. Hopefully that meant it wasn’t too gruesome.
“I got the things you asked for,” Abigail said, shooting me a warning look. But warning me of what? I honestly hadn’t the faintest.
“Gavin wanted to see the puppies,” she explained, leading the friend turned stranger turned back into friend again to her bedroom.
I cleared my throat, ready to protest, but my daughter turned back toward me with such vim and vigor in her eyes that I swallowed my words back down. Instead, I followed along more of a force of habit than a lack of trust in my girl. Besides, I had too many questions about this new development in our day that I’d rather not leave her answering them to chance. I needed to find out why Gavin was here and what he wanted with Abigail whatever way I could.
“They’re so tiny,” he said, using the tip of his index finger to stroke each of our church dogs in turn. “They can’t be more than a couple of days old.”
“Probably not,” she agreed.
“Do you know anything about dogs?” I asked from where I stood, leaning against the door frame with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Afraid not,” he said with a grimace. “I’m more of a cat person.”
If I’d been born a Catholic, I would have crossed myself in response to that one. Of course I loved all of God’s creatures, but I’d always loved dogs just a little bit extra. We hadn’t had them while Abigail was growing up because her mother Rachael had been allergic—and, well, a part of me always hoped she’d walk back into our lives and pick up where she left off.
“Be nice, Dad,” Abigail warned again, a look of exasperation etched across her normally sorrowful face. At least exasperation was an improvement.
“I’m always nice,” I answered, an idea popping into my mind as I watched the two young people coddle Mama Mary and her puppies. “It sure is nice to see you again, Dr. Holbrook.”
“It’s good to see you both, too,” he answered with a brief, questioning glance my way. “Although I’m sorry about the circumstances.”
This raised more questions than it answered. I’d called the man a doctor, hoping he would correct me and reveal his true profession—but he’d stayed blessedly silent.
“So, how is the medical business treating you these days?” I pressed further.
Abigail sighed, but Gavin answered me all the same. “I hear it’s good, but I’m not in that business myself, so couldn’t say for sure.”
“Daddy, could we please have some privacy?” Abigail asked, her exasperation had turned to outright frustration.
“Oh, yes. I’ll just be on my way. Good to see you again,” I said, knowing when I’d been defeated at my own game.
Still, Gavin and I exchanged nods, then I carried myself away, hoping I’d still be able to overhear any conversation from the living room.
Chapter 11
Abigail
Abigail brought her hands to her cheeks to hide the sudden rush of heat. Her pale skin meant that she would often turn red at even the slightest provocation. If Gavin noticed her sudden shyness, he at least didn’t say anything to further embarrass her. Her father had done enough of that already.
“Sorry about him,” she whispered when she was certain the meddling pastor had moved out of earshot.
Gavin laughed, and his eyes crinkled at the corners just as they always had. She liked that some things didn’t change, no matter how much life threw at you.
“I think it’s sweet how concerned he is over you,” he said after a pause. “And that he thought he was being so stealthy with all that Dr. Holbrook business.”
He rolled his eyes, then turned his attention back to the puppies. “I think this one’s my favorite,” he said, gently petting a mostly black puppy with a little white line running down the top of her head all the way to her impossibly tiny nose.
“How can you have a favorite?” she asked, grabbing tight to the topic change and running with it. “They all act the same.”
“Nah, you can already see their personalities coming through. See how this one pushes its way in over the other puppies and makes sure it gets the best spot? He’s a spunky little guy and will be a lot of fun when he’s old enough to play.”
“She,” Abigail corrected. “That one’s a girl.”
Gavin drew his hand away from the puppy and turned to face Abigail. “Oops. I guess my lack of dog knowledge is showing. What’s her name?”
“She doesn’t have one yet. None of them do except for Mama Mary,” she admitted, even though she’d definitely been tempted to preempt her father’s waiting period and just name the puppies herself. “Dad says he’s going to let the Sunday School kids pick names.”
“Oh, boy. That probably means they’ll all be named after princesses and superheroes then.” Gavin leaned in toward the puppies again and gave the mother dog a scratch between her ears.
“Well, there are worse ways to name a dog, I suppose.” Abigail thought of the little one growing inside her belly. She didn’t have any names picked out for him or her yet, either. Nothing felt right in a world where her child would be born half an orphan. She guessed if it were a boy she could name him for Owen, b
ut what if she had a girl? She had no idea which she preferred or whether she would love her child on sight as all good mothers were supposed to do. None of it felt real yet even though the clock continued to tick away without missing a single second.
“What’s wrong?” Gavin asked, his brow crumpled with concern.
“Nothing,” she answered reflexively and swiped at dry, itchy eyes. “Well, actually everything, but that’s not your fault.”
Gavin cleared his throat, then waited for her to look up at him before he spoke. “I hate seeing you like this. You were always this bright beam of sunshine growing up.” His smile faltered before returning full blast. “Actually, I think I had a crush on you ever since the first day I met you on the swings in Kindergarten. Remember that?”
“No,” Abigail answered with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry. I really don’t.”
He placed his hand on hers and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. “When we were finally placed in the same class in second grade, I insisted the teacher sit me right behind you.”
Now this she couldn’t believe. Gavin hadn’t said a single kind word to her until middle school at the absolute earliest. “But you were awful to me in second grade!” she argued. “I went home crying more than once.”
“Yeah, little boys aren’t the best at romance.” He chuckled, drawing a soft giggle from her as well. “But I finally got it right in eighth grade when I asked you to the end-of-year dance and even braved your father to come pick you up.”
“That was a good night,” Abigail said with a wistful sigh. She could still remember almost every minute of that special day. “I remember thinking the gymnasium looked absolutely magical.”
“Yeah, a great night followed by a great year. But then stupid teenager stuff got in the way and we broke up. I never stopped caring about you, though, you know. Junior year I tried to rack up the courage to ask you to prom, but then Pippa Jackson asked me first and I figured I might as well go with her rather than risk you saying no.”
“I would’ve said yes,” Abigail realized with a start. “I ended up staying home because all of my friends had dates except for me.”
“Unbelievable,” Gavin teased with a roll of his eyes. “Seems we had a few different near misses in our day, but still, here we are again. Together.”
She sighed and wondered what more she could say to convince Gavin she wasn’t ready for a relationship—not now and possibly not ever again.
“As friends,” he added before she had to correct him. “I know you’re hurting and I want to help. I care about you, Abigail, and besides, I’m not looking for a relationship either.”
She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Oh? Is that so?”
“Work keeps me busy. Your father was half right, by the way. I actually am a doctor, but for teeth.” He flashed his pearly whites at her as if they alone offered the proof she needed.
She scrunched up her face at that reveal. “You grew up to be a dentist?” She’d never pictured Gavin as a dentist. Truth be told, she couldn’t really picture him as anything rather than the boy she knew in high school.
“Nah, an endodontist. We’re way better than your run-of-the-mill dentists.”
She knew that word, and it wasn’t a good one. Owen had been severe pain before finally visiting the base-recommended endodontist for an emergency root canal. And now Gavin was saying this was what he had voluntarily chosen to do for a living? Too bizarre.
“Aren’t you the guys who give people root canals?” she asked, trying her best to keep a straight face. This felt just like the old days when they’d tease each other about who got the higher score on a test or who could skip a rock further across the beach. “Hate to break it to you, but nobody likes a root canal.”
But Gavin was clearly a man who loved what he did and was ready to defend it. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he argued. “Everyone talks about how bad they are, but it’s really the pain leading up to them that’s bad. Actually, root canals end that pain, and that makes me a professional pain ender.”
Abigail studied him for a moment, noting how his blond hair hung shaggy over his forehead and how he’d grown into the long arms and legs he’d sported as a teen. He seemed sincere and without a hidden agenda. It didn’t make any sense, but then again, they’d both grown up so much in the years since high school. Gavin had become a doctor, for goodness’ sake. She needed to give him a chance. At the very least his company offered less pressure than her father’s. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have a friend she could confide in.
“So you want to end my pain?” she asked after taking a dry gulp.
“Yes, ma’am.” Always the good Southern boy. Always sincere, a gentleman. He hadn’t changed one bit other than this crazy new job of his.
She watched as his eyes lit with mischief.
“I’m not too sure a root canal would help here,” Gavin said with a shrug. “But we can always try it just in case.”
Abigail laughed softly and bumped her shoulder into his as the puppies continued to scrabble for the best nursing spot.
Yes, it felt nice to have a friend.
Chapter 12
Abigail
Abigail watched as her father did up his tie in front of the old antique mirror that hung in their foyer.
“Are you sure you won’t come this morning?” he asked, making eye contact with her reflection and offering a wheedling smile.
She pretended to think it over, already knowing full well what her answer would be. “Hmm. Didn’t you promise not to ask me to leave the house again for at least a week after the whole thing yesterday?”
He shrugged and patted his tie flat after finishing the knot. “I thought maybe things had changed since you invited that Gavin fella over. And besides, the kids will be naming the puppies today. Don’t you want to be a part of that?”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind, and, no, I don’t need to be there. The puppies are too little to go anyway. Take the pictures I gave you to help inspire the kids, and I’ll stay here to watch after the dogs in person.”
Her father turned abruptly and placed a hand on her shoulder, regarding her with a frown that told her exactly what was coming. They had the same conversation every Sunday since she’d moved back home.
“One of these days you’re going to have to make peace with God,” he said softly.
“Maybe, but today’s not that day.”
He looked like he wanted to say more but swallowed back whatever it was and cleared his throat, then gave her a kiss on the cheek instead.
Abigail watched him go, then waited until she heard her father’s car start up in the drive before finally letting out a long, shaky breath. Today was the day she planned to find Mama Mary’s owners. Even though only a few days had passed since her father brought the Chihuahuas home from his Christmas Eve sermon, she already felt herself getting attached—and that was a huge problem.
It would be just her luck for the cuddly creatures to get ripped away by their rightful owners just as Abigail had finally allowed herself to fall in love with them. She needed to find them sooner than later, even if her dad and all the Sunday school kids would be sorely disappointed at the loss of their “church dogs.” After all, the longer they waited, the harder it would be on everyone.
She’d already taken photos of the mother dog from multiple angles and designed a handful of sharable social media graphics and printed flyers that she hoped her father might be willing to distribute around town to save her the trouble. Now she just needed to figure out where to post her notices online, and if all went according to plan, the dogs would be returned to their original owners by nightfall.
What kind of person loses a heavily pregnant dog in the middle of a snow storm? she wondered. And what if that bout of negligence wasn’t just a one-time thing? What if Mama Mary often escaped or got lost on the streets? Would it really be best for the dogs—especially the tiny puppies—to go back to an owner like
that?
She shook her head, hoping to dislodge the guilt that had set up shop inside her head. But the gesture didn’t help. Nothing did. The guilt would probably stick with her no matter what she decided. After all, not trying to find the owners wasn’t an option either. Why did this have to be so hard?
She fired up her laptop which—other than designing the graphics to aid in her search—had been badly neglected as of late. Once it had finished running a slew of updates, she logged into Facebook to begin posting her found dog campaign far and wide. A little red notification drew her eyes to the friend requests section where a smiling picture of Gavin greeted her.
She clicked accept and almost immediately received a private message: Pffhew! For a while there I wasn’t sure you were going to be my friend.
Gavin’s name blinked at her until she clicked the window to type out her response: I’m not on much. Just logged in to see if I can find the dogs’ owner.
Need any help?
I’ll let you know. Thanks.
She hated to be abrupt, but if she didn’t focus now, she’d never find who Mama Mary belonged to. When it seemed like Gavin had nothing more to say, she minimized their chat and did a search for rescue groups in the area. She was able to join two straightaway, but the others all had a membership approval process, meaning she’d already reached a dead end for the time being.
Frustrating.
Before logging off and waiting for the dogs to awake from their morning nap, she decided to check her newsfeed. Most of the updates were either from members of her father’s church or her friends from back on base. It felt odd seeing them continue with their lives as if nothing had changed when everything in Abigail’s world was different.
She quickly scrolled past anything that made her heart ache for Owen, finally stopping on a beautiful image of a fair-haired woman sitting in the snow with a gorgeous pair of huskies. A FREE BOOK FOR THE ADVENTURER IN YOU was written in huge block letters beside them.
Mini Miracles Page 4
