by Nan Rossiter
“Yeah,” Harper murmured sleepily, still petting McMuffin while pulling Bear against the twinge in her chest. “It’d be great if it lasted forever.”
“It would be,” Rudy agreed, and then she heard Harper breathing softly and knew she’d fallen asleep. It would be so great if she had a sister. She was tired of only having brothers.
11
“WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THIS ONE?” MACEY CALLED, HOLDING UP A large chrysanthemum covered with burgundy buds and blossoms.
From the other side of the display, Maeve gave her sister a thumbs-up, and Macey set it in her cart. She looked around, spied another one about the same size with copper blossoms, set it in the seat, and pushed her cart over to where Maeve was looking at gourds. “They have some really weird ones this year,” she said, pointing to an orange-and-dark-green gourd that looked like it had a smaller one growing out of its top.
“Look at this one,” Maeve said, holding up a creamy pumpkin with bumpy warts all over it.
“Whatever happened to plain old pumpkins?” Macey asked. “I need a bunch for jack-o’-lanterns.”
“I think they’re over there,” Maeve said, motioning to the other end of the storefront.
Macey looked in the direction her sister was pointing. “They must have some kind of special event going on today.”
“The Boy Scouts are probably selling popcorn,” Maeve said, setting a snow-white mum in the seat of her cart. “They’re everywhere this time of year.”
“I think it’s something else,” Macey said. “There’s a tent and a hot-dog truck and a van. . . .”
“Maybe it’s a fall festival,” Maeve said, preoccupied with her decorating ideas. “Stores are always trying to draw people in with special events on the weekends.”
Macey nodded. “Maybe.”
Maeve finally looked over, too. “The only way to find out,” she said, pushing her cart in the direction of the tent, “is to go see.”
Macey lingered over the gourds, picked out a couple more unusual ones, and then followed.
“It’s the animal shelter,” Maeve said as Macey caught up. “They’re having an adoption day. I remember hearing about it on the radio.”
Macey nodded and started to walk toward the store. The last thing she needed right now was a pet, but as she rounded the fenced-in area, she noticed a beautiful golden retriever lying in the sun with a festive bandanna with autumn leaves on it around his neck. “Is he yours?” she asked the volunteer sitting next to him.
The lady looked down. “Keeper?” she said, and the big dog immediately lifted his head. “Oh, no. He is getting to be our mascot, though—he’s been with us ever since his owner died two years ago.”
“He’s beautiful,” Macey said. “How come no one adopts him?”
As she said this, the handsome retriever pulled himself up and hopped over, swishing his tail, and Macey, realizing he had only three legs, bit her lip. She reached out her hand, and he licked it and then nudged his head into her hand.
Maeve came up beside her. “Oh, no, what happened?” she asked.
“He had cancer,” the volunteer explained, kneeling down and putting her arm around Keeper’s broad shoulders. He turned and licked her cheek. “The only way to save him was to amputate. That’s why no one adopts him—they think he’ll be too much trouble or get cancer again.”
“What are the chances he would get cancer again?” Maeve asked.
“Same as a human’s. Some will, some won’t. It happened before he came to us . . . before his owner passed.”
“That’s so sad,” Macey said, stroking his soft fur and looking into his sweet brown eyes. “I can’t believe no one wants you.”
Finally, she stepped back. “Thank you,” she said, nodding. “I hope you find a home for him.”
She started to walk away, with Maeve reluctantly following her. “You hope she finds a home for him?” she asked. “Boy, you’re more hard-hearted than I thought. Why don’t you give him a home?”
Macey turned and gave her sister a look that spoke volumes. “First, you want me to adopt a child, and now you want me to adopt a dog. Maeve, you need to stop. I can’t give him a home.”
“Why not?”
“Because of our steps—he wouldn’t be able to get into the house.”
“You’re married to a woodworker. He could build a ramp.”
“Ha! Ben definitely doesn’t have time to build a ramp right now. And he would never go for getting a dog.”
“You don’t know that. You haven’t even asked him.”
“If you feel so bad for the dog, why don’t you adopt him?”
“Because I live in an apartment and I work all day. Besides, Gage already has a dog.”
“That’s a lame excuse. I work all day, too, and if you adopt him, Gus would have a friend.”
“It’s just . . . he seemed so sweet, Mace. I think he’d be good for you. We always had a dog when we were growing up, and you know how good they are at consoling—they’re the best kind of friend you can have. I bet he’d help take your mind off things.”
“I don’t need a dog to take my mind off things,” Macey said, starting to sound annoyed as she loaded several large pumpkins into her cart.
“I just mean he might take your mind off yourself. . . .” But as soon as she said it, Maeve knew it was the wrong thing to say. “I’m sorry. It was just a thought.”
“Well, thanks for thinking of me,” Macey said, her voice edged with sarcasm. She walked over to the checkout counter and plopped her mums and gourds on the belt. “I also have ten pumpkins,” she told the cashier. She was definitely annoyed now—she didn’t need to feel guilty for not adopting a handicapped dog on top of everything else.
Macey felt like storming off, but she wasn’t fond of drama, so she waited for Maeve to finish checking out. They walked outside in silence and saw Keeper lying in the same sunny spot.
“It’s really sad no one wants him,” Macey said. “He has such beautiful, sad eyes—he looks like Tucker.”
“He does,” Maeve agreed, recalling their parents’ last dog. “And I think you should think about it—wouldn’t you want a sweetheart like Tucker?”
“Oh, you!” Macey said, throwing up her arms. “You never give up!”
“I know,” Maeve said, laughing as she loaded her purchases into the trunk. “Thanks for breakfast. I’m sorry we didn’t find a shirt.”
“It’s okay,” Macey said, giving her a hug. “Some things aren’t meant to be.”
Maeve nodded, knowing her sister’s words rang true for more than a shirt. She looked over at the pet-adoption event. “Think about it,” Maeve pressed, grinning.
“Okay, Miss Persistence!” Macey said. “I’ll think about it.”
As Maeve pulled away, she waved, and then Macey walked over to her car and put her mums and gourds in the trunk. She closed the door and when she returned her cart, the big golden picked up his head and swished his tail.
“Don’t you start, too,” she whispered, feeling his sweet, solemn eyes tug at her heartstrings.
12
“MMM . . . WHAT SMELLS SO GOOD?” BEN ASKED WHEN HE CAME INTO the kitchen.
“Supper,” Macey said, taking a sip of her wine.
“And what is supper?” He lifted the top off the slow cooker to release a savory steam.
“Chicken soup—my own recipe.”
“Well, it smells amazing,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I knew I married you for a reason—you’re beautiful; you have a sweet, sexy Northern accent . . . and you can cook!” He kissed her neck. “Mmm . . . and you smell good, too.”
“Thanks,” Macey murmured, loving his arms around her.
He softly kissed her lips. “Missed you.”
“Missed you, too.”
“How was breakfast?”
“Good.”
“Just good?” he said, breaking off a piece of French bread and dipping it into the olive oil she’d drizzled on a plate.
&nbs
p; “Yeah, just good. I mean it was great to see Maeve, but I wasn’t very hungry, and when we went shopping, I couldn’t find a shirt I’ve been looking for, and then we went to get mums and there was a pet-adoption event in the parking lot and we saw this beautiful golden retriever who’s been in the shelter for two years and Maeve kept . . .”
Ben frowned. “How come no one adopts him?”
“He only has three legs.”
“What happened to him?”
“Cancer. They had to amputate one of his front legs.”
“Oh,” Ben said quietly. “Does he have trouble getting around?”
“Not really—I mean he hopped over to say hello, but I don’t know how he manages stairs.”
“How did he end up in the shelter?”
“His owner died.”
“Wow, that’s really sad.”
Macey nodded. “Maeve thinks we should adopt him. I told her there was no way, but you know how persistent she can be, and she just kept pressing it, and now I can’t stop thinking about him. He must really miss his owner, and he must wonder what in the world happened that he has to live in a kennel.”
Ben nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure he does, but you’re right—we can’t take on the responsibility of a dog, especially one that’s handicapped. “
“I know,” Macey agreed, “but I keep picturing him lying on the cold kennel floor all by himself.”
“I’m sure he has something soft to lie on—a bed or a blanket.”
“I doubt it,” Macey said skeptically.
Ben slipped two ice packs from his cooler into the freezer, closed it, and opened the fridge for a beer. He flipped the cap into the garbage and took a sip. “What time is supper?”
“Now,” Macey said, drizzling homemade dressing onto their salads. “You can serve your soup, if you want,” she added, motioning to the bowls next to the slow cooker.
Ben scooped a generous ladleful of soup into a waiting bowl and grated some pepper on top. “Want me to serve yours?”
“No, thanks,” Macey said, slicing the crusty baguette. “I’m not very hungry.”
“You need to eat, Mace. To heal,” Ben said softly.
“I know,” Macey said, putting a couple slices of bread on Ben’s salad plate. Then she ladled a small amount of soup into a bowl, sat down across from him, and took another sip of her wine.
“You also need to eat because you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.”
“I am eating,” she added, motioning to the steaming bowl of soup in front of her.
He eyed her. “I want to see it empty.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, dipping in her spoon and gently blowing on it. “How’s the house coming?”
“Slowly,” he said, breaking off a piece of bread and dipping it in his soup. “Gus stole a piece of Jim’s bagel again this morning,” he said chuckling. “He’s so funny—he waits until Jim’s not paying attention and then he races off with whatever Jim was snacking on.”
Macey smiled, picturing the scene, and then her face grew serious. “You know, if Gage brings his dog to work, why couldn’t you?”
“Well, for starters, I don’t have a dog. . . .”
“But if you did?”
“You know I love dogs, Mace. We always had one when I was growing up, but my mom was home all day. We both work all day, and from what you say, if he only has three legs, I’m sure getting around must be a challenge. He certainly doesn’t need Gus chasing him—which I’m sure he would do if I brought him to work with me.”
“He might be fine with it.”
“He might be, but what if he isn’t? Then what? Do we take him back?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “We would figure something out.”
Ben could tell the wheels in Macey’s head were spinning—which always meant trouble. He also knew her emotions were raw from losing the baby, but was getting a dog the solution? Would a dog—especially one with a handicap—ease their grief or only add to it?
“I don’t know, either, Mace. It’s a pretty big risk, and if we have to give him back, it will just cause more heartache.”
“I guess you’re right,” Macey said with a resigned sigh. She pushed her barely touched soup away and pulled her glass closer.
“But if you never take a chance,” she added wearily, “how do you know?”
“I don’t think it’s a chance we should take right now,” Ben said softly. He mopped the bottom of his bowl with the last of his bread and realized she had barely touched her soup. “Are you going to finish?”
“No. I’ll have it tomorrow.”
Ben frowned. “I’ll get the dishes. Why don’t you go relax?”
Macey nodded, refilled her glass, and took it out on the porch while Ben put the remaining soup in a Tupperware and filled the sink with hot, sudsy water. As he washed the dishes, he looked at the long shadows stretching across the lawn and heard Macey’s question echoing in his head. The Macey he’d known and loved all his life had always been eager to take chances. She’d ventured off to college, and then all across Europe—Paris, Munich, London, Geneva—and when she’d finally come home, she’d taken a chance on him. After they’d married, she’d pressed him to buy a big Victorian house that needed a ton of work. Nothing daunted her. Nothing stopped her from moving forward. She was always eager to learn, to explore, and to love with all her heart. The five miscarriages, one right after another, had taken the wind out of her sails, though, and they’d broken her heart. Those losses had changed her. She wasn’t the free spirit who always threw caution to the wind anymore. And just now, when she half-heartedly asked the question, If you never take a chance, how do you know? it sounded as if she was trying to remember something she’d once believed but had, somehow, lost.
Ben dried his hands and went out on the porch to sit next to her. She smiled. “I can’t believe it’s the end of September. Where did the summer go?”
Ben looked at the fading light. “I don’t know where it went. I don’t know where the years have gone. We just keep getting older, and the older we get, the faster time flies.”
“Before you know it, we’ll be members of the Sundowners’ Club.”
Ben smiled. “We will.” He hesitated, turning the words he wanted to say over in his mind. He wanted to tell her he was willing to go see the dog, but he knew, if he did, there’d be no turning back, and as much as he wanted Macey to feel better—to be the feisty passionate woman he loved—he wasn’t convinced that adopting a dog was the answer.
13
“MO-OM! COME QUICK!” RUDY CRIED. “HARPER DOESN’T FEEL GOOD!”
“I’m coming!” Cora called back, throwing off her covers and almost knocking over her bedside lamp as she tried to find her glasses. She pulled her robe around her, hurried down the hall, and found Harper curled up in a tight ball, moaning.
She knelt next to her. “Baby, what’s the matter?”
“I don’t know,” Harper whimpered. “My whole chest hurts.”
“Can you straighten out and lay on your back?”
“Noo,” she moaned. “It hurts too much.”
Cora’s heart pounded. “Rudy, get the phone!”
Rudy hurried down the hall and came back with the phone, and Cora dialed 911. “Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance—I have a little girl with chest pains. . . . Yes, she’s ten years old. . . .”
“Nine,” mumbled Harper.
“What? Yes . . . no, nine.”
“I can’t breathe,” Harper cried. “Please help. . . .”
“She’s having trouble breathing!” Cora cried. “Oh, Lord, send someone right now!” She gave them her address, looked up, and saw her boys standing in the doorway, their faces drawn and frightened.
“Mama, what’s wrong with Harper?” Joe asked softly.
“She doesn’t feel good, baby.”
She turned to Frank. “Go wait outside and show them where we are.”
Frank hurried outside. He could already hear the siren whin
ing in the distance.
“It’s all right, baby,” Cora soothed, rubbing Harper’s back. “They’re almost here.”
Frank waved to the ambulance driver and he stopped behind Cora’s car. Two EMTs hopped out, and while one hurried inside, the second one unloaded a stretcher. It was raining, and the red and white lights splashed eerily across the brick buildings, shining on the curious faces peering around curtains and people stepping out into the rain to watch the commotion. Moments later, the EMTs bumped the stretcher out to the ambulance with Cora hurrying along beside. Harper reached out her hand, her eyes wild with fear.
“Cora!” she cried, but her voice, muffled by an oxygen mask, was barely audible.
“I’m comin’, baby. I’m comin’,” Cora said, squeezing her hand. She let go as the stretcher was lifted into the back of the ambulance.
Just then, Janelle Williams, Cora’s next-door neighbor, came up beside her and put her arm around her. “Cora, who’s that?” she asked in her lilting Jamaican accent. “Is she a friend of Rudy’s?”
“She is Rudy’s friend, but she’s also a foster child who shouldn’t be staying with us. Lord, I am going to lose my job.”
“Mama, is Harper goin’ to be okay?” Rudy asked, coming out into the rain.
“Go back inside, Rudy,” Cora said sternly. “Harper’s going to be fine. They’re taking her to the hospital, and they’re going to find out why she doesn’t feel good.”
“You want me to stay with the kids?” Janelle asked.
“Would you, Janelle? Just till the morning? Then Frank can take over.”
Janelle nodded. “You go. We’ll be fine.”
“I have to change,” Cora said, looking down at her nightgown and robe. “C’mon inside.”
Cora’s mind raced as she tried to think of everything she needed. She quickly changed and then they all watched, wide-eyed, as she hurried about, grabbing her bag and keys and phone.
“Here, take this, too, Mama,” Rudy said, thrusting Harper’s teddy bear into her arms.
“Be careful, Mama,” Frank said in a worried voice.
“I will—don’t you worry. Be good and go back to bed.”
