by Susan Hatler
“Go,” she cheered, helping me push back enough dogs so that I could slip inside my car and close the door.
I rolled down the window as I backed up, being careful, of course, not to smoosh any of the dogs—sweet dogs that were now safe. Rescue at the Barn had been saved by the most amazing selfless hero that had ever walked the earth and I needed to thank him.
“I have to go,” I shouted back to her as I waved, because my brain couldn’t think of anything else at that moment. “I have to go, I have to go, I so have to . . . oh, wait. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I find him!”
“You’ll know what to do,” she answered as I reversed in a cloud of dust.
I wasn’t so sure I would know what to do when I got there. After leaving law school, I thought I had everything figured out. I thought I knew my path. I thought I knew what to do, because I was following my heart. Well, now I needed my heart to kindly show me how to get out of this mess I’d created. I sped closer and closer to town cringing at the huge mess I’d made.
As I drove, I practiced what I would say to Cooper when I found him. Thank goodness I was practicing verbally, because if I’d been writing all of the ideas down on paper then my back seat would have been flooded with crumpled balls of failed apologies. Not one was good enough and if I hadn’t heard sirens wailing from behind me causing me to pause then my metaphorical crumpled balls would have started to tumble down on Banana and me.
The sirens wailed over and over, loud enough to yank me out of my potential apologies. I caught sight of the red lights in my rear view mirror and knew this stop would eat up precious time. Okay, maybe I’d pushed my foot down a little too hard on the pedal and maybe I’d been going a wee bit over the speed limit. But this apology was so way overdue. I had to get out of this ticket quickly so I could hurry back on my way to Cooper.
“Be on your best behavior, Banana,” I told him as I checked myself in the mirror behind my visor. This time, I would go straight to groveling.
All of this was actually starting to seem rather déjà vu right down to the streaks of mascara and the puffy eyes from crying. I did what I could with a couple dabs of concealer and a smudge of lipstick. I rolled down the passenger window and heard a familiar voice.
“Ma’am, would you please step out of your car?” he said, but the sound came from my side of the car—the driver’s side.
I froze. I knew that voice. I knew that voice in my heart. It was the voice that had played over and over in my dreams for the last three weeks.
“Ma’am, if you don’t mind,” he repeated. “Please step out of your car.”
My hand shook as I reached for the door handle. But then I dropped my hand to my leg so I could wipe off the sweat. I wasn’t sure my legs would hold up as I set my feet on the dirt road since they already felt like jelly and I was still sitting down.
As I stood, I kept one hand on the doorframe and one on the side of the car and then I turned toward the voice I knew so well.
A uniform, a stern frown, and the kindest blue eyes ever.
“Ma’am,” Cooper said, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”
I tightened the grip on my car, because every time I thought I could stand on my own I looked into his eyes and felt my knees buckle again.
“Well, I was in a hurry,” I said, surprised my voice worked.
“That’s no excuse to be speeding recklessly down a country road, ma’am. Rules are rules.”
“But I had somewhere important to be, Officer.” I bit my lip, resisting the urge to move closer to him. Just a step. Just a step closer and I would be satisfied. But even as I thought that I knew I was lying to myself. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I was so close to him that I couldn’t move any closer. “Well, I wasn’t really going to somewhere,” I admitted, catching his eyes. “I was going to someone.”
It was like a weight lifted from my shoulders when Cooper took a step toward me.
“Someone?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I nodded. “Someone who is stubborn and pigheaded and a giant pain in my tush a lot of the time,” I said, watching his face carefully.
He crossed his arms. “Not sure why you’d be in a hurry to get to someone like that.”
I took a step closer to him. “Well, this someone is also honorable and kind and committed and selfless and the best man I’ve ever known, so . . .”
I gazed at Cooper and my eyes widened. How was I supposed to explain how sorry I truly was for how I’d acted at City Hall? For assuming the worst and running from him full speed when all I’d really wanted to do was fly into his arms.
No more than a yard stood between us as we stared at each other.
“Well, I was hurrying to find someone myself,” he said, his voice softer than the slight breeze that made the wildflowers in the field across from us sway. He closed the distance between us even further and continued. “And this someone I was looking for is also a bit stubborn and maybe a little pigheaded and a pain most of the time.”
I felt the tiniest smile tugging up the corners of my mouth. “Doesn’t sound like someone worth hurrying to find,” I said.
He shook his head. “I don’t know anyone more worth hurrying to find than this person,” he said, sounding more serious than I’d ever heard him. “Because this someone has the biggest heart of anyone ever and this someone dives in with her whole heart without looking first. This someone is passionate and caring and loving. And when this someone messes up, it’s because this someone is feeling more than anyone I know.”
Tears started to pool in my eyes and the thought crossed my mind that at this rate I needed to start investing in some industrial strength waterproof mascara.
“Are you going to give me a ticket, Officer?” I asked, taking a step closer.
“I don’t see how I can, ma’am,” he said, taking another step. There was only one step more to take and I took it, keeping my eyes on his. “Because, Abigail Apple, I was speeding just as quickly as you were trying to find you,” he said.
There was no more space between our feet. When he reached for me there was no more space between our hands. Then he leaned down and there was no more space between our lips. The kiss was like sunshine on the farm he’d just saved: gentle and soft and warm.
He pulled back slightly and I almost fell forward into him. “Abigail?” he whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Is that dog hair on your cheek?”
I opened my mouth to apologize, but then I realized something beautiful. Cooper loved me for all of me, dog hair included. I grinned and nodded.
He smiled, shook his head, and without another word pressed his mouth to mine. As I melted into him, wanting to savor this moment and never have it end, I had quite a dilemma. I needed to say the words that were pressing on my heart but I also needed to not break the kiss because I never ever wanted to break that kiss as long as I lived.
So I made an attempt to have my cake and eat it too and said the words against Cooper’s lips.
“What?” he mumbled right back.
“Commissary,” I managed as he slipped an arm around me and I sighed.
He pulled away slightly and looked down at me. “Commissary?”
Covering my face with my hands, I said the words again. Yet they came out just as muffled in my little cocoon. Suddenly, his strong hands wove gently around my wrists as he lifted my hands away from my face. “Abigail, what are you saying?”
I felt my cheeks warm. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled down at me. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’m so, so sorry that they need to invent a new depth for the word sorry.”
He moved back to lean against my car and brought me with him. We stood side by side and watched the wildflowers dance under the golden rays.
“I don’t accept your apology,” he said, staring straight ahead even when I turned in surprise to look at him. But he could only keep his signature
stern face for a moment before turning to me with another smile and slipping his hand around mine. “Abigail, you have nothing to apologize for. You haven’t disappointed me. In fact, you’ve given me a gift that I can never repay.”
“I have?” I asked, blinking and wondering when I’d done that.
He nodded. “After Harrison’s death, I tried so hard to be the exact opposite of who I had been when I’d acted irresponsibly and it had cost Harrison his life. I wanted to follow every single rule and never let my heart sway from what my head knew was right. And it helped me heal, but it also cut me off from other people, and from forming meaningful connections with a certain someone.”
I squeezed his hand and smiled up at him.
“You made me want to open my heart up fully again,” he said, his voice soft and low. “And you, Abigail Apple, have given me the courage to finally do that.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder and thought I could be content staying right there for the rest of my life when a bark from the car startled the birds in the trees above us and made Cooper and me jump.
“Someone feels left out,” he said, chuckling as he slipped past me and leaned across the driver’s seat in my car. Then he emerged with Banana held securely in his hand. Banana squirmed merrily and licked at Cooper’s thumb.
“I do have one more question,” I said, watching as he scratched behind Banana’s ear.
“Shoot.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but how exactly did you raise the money to buy Reagan’s farm from her landlord? She said it cost a million dollars.”
He kept his eyes on mine. “After Harrison died, I received an insurance settlement. I wanted to take the whole lump sum out in cash and burn it because it felt wrong to be compensated in that way because nothing would ever take away the grief that driver caused. I wanted nothing to do with that money. I never wanted to see it, never wanted to spend it, never wanted to think about it. So I left it in the bank.”
Emotion choked his voice, but he cleared his throat and continued.
“I ripped up the statements I received each year about how much interest the savings was accumulating. I felt that if I spent that money it meant that I was moving on, moving forward, and continuing with life, which didn’t seem fair without Harrison.”
Sadness etched lines in his face, but when he looked over at me there was a sad smile, too. And I knew it meant that everything was going to be all right.
“When you and I were up on that water tower together,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I couldn’t help thinking that Harrison would’ve loved you. And I couldn’t help thinking that he would have knocked me upside the head for keeping you at a distance from my heart. And I knew in that moment just how he would have wanted that money spent.”
“Rescue at the Barn,” I said, stating the obvious. “That’s why you promised me the dog rescue wouldn’t close down.”
He nodded. “I believed Founding Friendships needed the city, but I knew Rescue at the Barn needed me. So, I voted the way I had to. I trusted my heart and then—”
“And then I didn’t trust mine and walked away,” I answered for him, shaking my head. “We need a do-over.”
Cooper nodded. “It’s time we give our hearts a second chance. What is yours telling you right now?”
I cupped my ear and leaned my head toward my chest. “Hmm. . . I think it’s saying that you should most definitely kiss me again.”
He laughed. “Is that so?”
I nodded.
“No doubt that’s what it said.” Cooper cupped my cheeks and brushed his lips against mine. I felt my chest seize up. If I was having a heart attack then I figured there were worse ways to go.
“We’d better listen to your heart,” he whispered, pressing his mouth to each side of my lips before kissing me fully again.
And I have to say that I never knew robots could kiss so well. But this one was special. Maybe this one was special because his heart was rare and true. Maybe this one was special because this robot was mine.
Epilogue
Three months later, the oranges and yellows and reds of the leaves on Reagan’s farm burst with excitement to the point where there was no need to buy balloons for the celebration. The sky painted itself the most gorgeous blue for this special occasion and the wind whispered in gleeful anticipation through the trees and the wild, golden grasses. The shining furs of the dogs were cleaned and brushed and each was wearing a bow, because this would be a day for all of us to remember.
Banana hurried to keep up with me as I darted this way and that, making sure that every last detail was in place for the grand opening of the new and improved and expanded and amazified dog rescue thanks to Cooper’s generosity. I heard Banana’s little pants as I weaved through the crowd that had come out to celebrate.
“Abigail!” Hannah called.
I whirled around, careful not to step on my little man, and found Hannah pushing her way through the crowd. “Hey, you! Thanks for coming,” I said, pulling her into a hug.
“I actually can’t stay too long,” she said, squeezing me tight. “I have to be back at the office this afternoon. But I wanted to give you this.”
I took the white envelope from her and raised my eyebrow. “What is this?”
Hannah grinned. “Just a little donation for the rescue.”
Tears started to well up in my eyes and she rolled her eyes.
“Must you get emotional about everything, Abigail?”
I stuck out my bottom lip. “I don’t get emotional about everything,” I lied.
She crossed her arms. “Did you or did you not cry at that baby shampoo commercial last night?”
“But the baby and the puppy and the . . .” I couldn’t say any more without crying so I just pulled Hannah in for another hug. “Love you, Hannah.”
“I’m proud of you,” she said, giving me a squeeze.
“Hannah!” a woman wearing a sharp black suit called as she marched toward us while somehow managing both to smile at Hannah and text like her life depended on it.
Hannah smiled at the woman. “Jennifer, I’m so happy to introduce—”
“Just,” the woman said, with her fingers flying across the tiny keyboard, “a . . .” she said, holding up her finger, “. . . second.”
The cell screen went black and then she slipped it into her briefcase and smiled at Hannah and me. She extended her hand to me and gave me what might’ve been the most firm handshake of my life.
“Jennifer Page,” she said. “And you must be Abigail?”
I nodded. “Nice to meet you, Jennifer.”
Hannah turned to me. “Jennifer is my boss,” she explained.
“Boss while we’re at work. Friend while on off hours, like now,” Jennifer said, her smile genuine and sweet although her hand kept twitching toward her purse. Texting withdrawals?
“Abigail,” Jennifer said to me, stuffing her hand into her pocket. “I think this is absolutely wonderful what you’ve done here. Really, I have so much admiration for people who donate their time. I always mean to, but with my full time career and full time business during off-hours . .” She reached into the front pocket of her purse and pulled out an envelope. “This is the best I can do right now—a donation to Rescue at the Barn.”
“That’s very generous of you,” I said, accepting the envelope and feeling touched at her declaration and donation. “This will go to good use here. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, just as her cell phone buzzed in her purse.
Hannah chuckled. “Forty-five seconds off the phone,” she said, playfully elbowing Jennifer. “A new record for you. You should take that as a huge compliment, Abigail.”
I grinned. “Important business?”
“Maybe,” Jennifer said, giving a shrug that I guessed was supposed to appear nonchalant. “Hopefully.”
“Don’t be modest, Jennifer,” Hannah said before turning to me. “Jennifer has a potential investor
for her business.”
I smiled. “That’s wonderful!”
Jennifer’s fingers drummed on the side of her purse even though I could see how hard she was trying to stop them from doing so. Before I could say anything my own phone buzzed in my purse and I dug it out amongst the lip-glosses and hair clips and checked the screen to find a text from Cooper: Don’t eat cake without me. I’ll be there shortly.
I smiled at Jennifer. “Hey, I checked mine, it’s only fair for you to check yours.”
Jennifer released a huge sigh of relief and fished her phone out of her purse as Hannah laughed. I winked at Hannah before saying a quick goodbye, sweeping Banana into my arms, and turning to run down the gravel path toward the country road at the bottom of the hill.
Sneakers might have been a sensible idea. But sensible is not a word often found in my personal vocabulary. Plus, you can’t wear sneakers with a beautiful new black dress with a bow across the waist, not even when its accented with the finest dog hair in the state of California. Instead, I wore a pair of strappy heels and they were almost the death of me as I hurried to surprise Cooper.
I was catching my breath against the sign to Reagan’s farm as Cooper pulled up. I quickly adjusted the sheet I had thrown over the sign and smiled as he stopped. He rolled down the passenger side window and leaned over.
“What are you doing down here?” he asked, pulling off his sunglasses. “Why aren’t you up at the farm? You all right?”
“Can you get out of your car and come here, please?” I asked.
He glanced around him. “There’s no parking here.”
I adjusted Banana in my arm and dismissed him with a wave. “You’re on a country road. There’s no one coming. Just put it in park and come here.”
He glanced around. “Abigail, it’s illegal and unsafe for me to park here. Rules are rules.”
I rolled my eyes. You can take the cop out of his uniform, but you can’t take the uniform out of the cop. Then I realized he had to be joking with me.
I pressed my hands together in prayer position. “Would you please break that very unimportant rule for just two minutes?”
