“He’s big as an ox,” Hannah said, laughing as she knelt in front of the big dog’s pen. “But could he play one? C’mere, boy.” She opened the pen and brought Biff out, and Reese showed her the simple commands Jacob had taught the dog. All was fine until one of the other dogs started barking. Biff joined in enthusiastically and lunged toward the other dog’s pen, practically pulling petite Hannah off her feet.
“Whoa!” She spoke a couple of quick, low commands, and Biff seemed to recognize the voice of authority; that, and a few of Hannah’s dried chicken treats, got him back under control.
“If you want to use him,” she said, “you probably need to have him anchored to something stable. And near an exit, in case he needs to be taken out. He’s gentle enough, but if he got loose, he could scare people.”
“Right,” Reese said, distracted by the sound of Gabby’s laughter, apparently about something one of the boys had said. It was wholehearted laughter, not repressed or hidden like that of some women. Winter sunlight glinted off her hair.
“Earth to Reese.” Hannah sounded amused. “How’s the rekindled romance going, anyway?”
He looked at her blankly and then processed what she’d said, and his face heated. “There’s no rekindled romance. Or...” He broke off.
Hannah’s eyes were steady on him, honest. They’d been friends for a lot of years, because she lived just down the street from his aunt and uncle, and she’d been nice when he’d first moved to town, surly and miserable.
He lifted his hands, palms up. “What can I say? I... There’s interest.”
“On your side, or on hers, or both?” She wasn’t looking at him now. She’d moved on to the next pen and was clucking her tongue at Bundi, a small black poodle mix.
“On mine, for sure,” he admitted. “I’m not certain how she feels about me.”
“Have you talked to her?”
Reese frowned. Had they talked? They’d talked about a lot of things, and they’d kissed, but they hadn’t really addressed the relationship, where it could go.
“It’d be worth trying that,” she suggested as she gently encouraged the small black dog to come out of the pen.
“You’re right. But—” He broke off. He’d been about to ask something too personal.
“But what? Hey, sweetie, come on, it’s okay,” she added to the dog.
“How does a woman feel about a man who isn’t...whole?” He waved his good hand at his empty sleeve. He’d gotten frustrated with his prosthesis and wasn’t wearing it today.
She turned slowly to face him. “Are you kidding? You’re the same as you always were, but now you’re a hero. It’s no problem.”
“Not even...romantically?”
She dipped her chin and raised her eyebrows, studying him steadily. “Even romantically. You’re no less of a man, Reese. And don’t get a big head, but you’re kinda good looking.”
It was an embarrassing conversation, about as personal as you could get. But he’d needed to ask a woman, and Hannah was perfect—kind and matter-of-fact, not a gossip.
Still, it was awkward. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck despite the cold day. He really needed to change the subject. “Thanks. Now let’s talk about Bundi.”
The noise level had risen in the barn. Apparently, the boys were taking a break, and Wolf ambled over. “Do you think she can do the show?” he asked, kneeling to rub Bundi’s ears.
Her stub of a tail wagged, her ears perking up at the sound of Wolf’s voice.
“She sure likes you,” Hannah said to Wolf.
“She’s my project,” the boy said. “Aren’t you, girl?” He scooped her into his lap and she rolled onto her back for a belly rub.
“She has some dementia,” Reese said. “I don’t want to stress her out.”
“Like my grandma,” Wolf said matter-of-factly. “But she still likes to be included in things, don’t you, girl?”
Bundi stared adoringly up at him through cloudy eyes.
Hannah smiled. “You know how a lot of nativity scenes have a shepherd carrying a sheep around his shoulders? That might be a good type of role for her to play.”
Wolf nodded. “Cool. I think I’m gonna be a shepherd, anyway, because I’m too big for any of the other costumes they borrowed. For a shepherd, all we need is a big old white sheet.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Hannah showed Wolf a few things he could do to stimulate Bundi’s thinking and then called a couple of other boys over to help them work with the dogs who’d be used in the show. Pretty soon, all the boys were gathered around Hannah.
Gabby was cleaning up from their morning activities. It might be his only chance to talk to her.
And after conversing with Hannah, he knew that talking to Gabby was the right thing to do. Before any more kissing, there needed to be some serious talking. Especially considering how quickly the connection between them had ignited with just that one kiss.
“Hey, Gabby,” he said. “Talk a couple of minutes in the office?”
She sucked in a breath and let it out in a sigh. “Look, Reese, I don’t want to be unkind,” she said, and broke off.
That didn’t sound promising. “But...” he prompted.
“But I just don’t think we should...you know...”
He was pretty sure he did know, but he needed for her to say it. So he waited.
“I just don’t think we should start up again,” she said, all in a rush.
“Can I ask why?” He pushed the words out past the sinking feeling in his gut.
She looked at the floor, shaking her head. “I have my reasons.”
Disappointment settled over him like a dark cloud. Rejection just plain stunk.
He wondered whether Hannah had been wrong, whether it was because Gabby didn’t want to be around a man with a disability. Somehow, that was better than thinking she just plain didn’t like him. “Okay,” he said, because what else could he say.
“Sorry,” she said in a timid, mousy way that wasn’t like her at all. Then she turned and scuttled over to where the boys and Hannah were working with the dogs.
Reese went the rest of the way into his office and sat on the edge of the desk. He felt like putting a fist through the wall. But when you had only one arm, you couldn’t indulge in stuff like that, because losing use of your good hand, even for a little while, wasn’t an option.
And anyway, he wasn’t an angry kid anymore. He had more mature ways to work out his frustrations. He’d hit the gym after work, make it to the basketball game he’d been missing most weeks. Maybe stop for a run before or after. Cold weather notwithstanding, he had some energy to work off.
That would take care of the physical side. His heartache...now, that was another issue.
* * *
Gabby walked into Nana’s house Friday night hoping for a quiet evening to cuddle her daughter and rest. To shut out what had just happened with Reese, the puzzled, hurt look on his face.
Jacob was behind her, running a zigzag pattern with Biff, throwing a stick for him to fetch. She’d fix him and Nana an easy dinner and then disappear into her room with Izzy.
But when she walked inside, the smell of Nana’s homemade lasagna filled the air. Christmas music played, and Izzy sat in her high chair, banging a spoon on the tray and grinning.
Nana stood at the counter tossing a salad, wearing the same apron she’d always worn, and the sight of her looking so strong and healthy made tears sting Gabby’s eyes.
“Ma-ma!” Izzy threw the spoon to the floor and held up her arms.
Gabby shrugged out of her coat, dropped her things and hurried over to sweep Izzy out of her high chair and give her a kiss. Then she went to Nana and put an arm around her. “This smells amazing! You must be feeling better?”
“I got a burst of energy, and at my age, it’s use it or lose it.” She patted Ga
bby’s arm. “Wash up and call Jacob, and we’ll sit down and eat.” She opened the oven door and peered inside, and Gabby caught a whiff of fresh, buttery garlic bread. Her stomach growled. “We’ll be right back, won’t we, sweetie?” She bounced Izzy, making her laugh. Then she went to the door. “Jacob, come in for dinner! Nana made lasagna and you don’t want to miss it!”
An hour later, they’d all eaten their fill, and Jacob and Gabby were finishing up the dishes while Nana held Izzy. Her energy was clearly fading, but she was all smiles.
“You know what would top off that dinner?” she asked. “Cookies. Why don’t you two make us some Christmas cookies?”
Gabby’s heart sank. She’d rallied and enjoyed the dinner, but she was exhausted.
Looking from Nana’s bright eyes to Jacob’s matching ones, though, she couldn’t say no.
“What kind of Christmas cookies do you like best, Jacob?” Nana asked.
His mouth twisted to one side as he thought. “Hmm...maybe those little round white ones.”
Gabby looked at Nana. “Snowballs? With powdered sugar that gets all over?”
“Yeah, those!” Jacob looked from one of them to the other. “Could we really make them?”
Gabby went to the refrigerator and cupboard. “Looks like we have everything.” She got out the ingredients, wondering about something, and not sure she should ask. But the question burst out of her: “Did Mom make these for you?”
Because she’d certainly never made them for Gabby.
She’d rarely talked to Jacob about their mother. He didn’t volunteer much, and Gabby was still a little tender about the fact that their mother had raised Jacob but not her.
“Are you kidding?” Jacob snorted. “She never baked any cookies. She never cooked anything.”
“What did you eat, dear?” Nana sounded upset, and Gabby knew why. She’d raised her daughter to be a good person, but the drugs had made her a stranger.
“Fast food,” he said. “Or stuff from the neighbors, or the soup kitchen. I don’t think she knew how to cook.” He looked at Gabby. “Did she ever cook for you?”
“Not that I remember.” And this was getting sad. “Thankfully, Nana taught me a few things about cooking once I came to live with her. We’ve had some cookie-baking marathons in our day.” She bent and put her arms around her grandmother from the back, giving her a quick hug.
“I never did anything like this before.” Jacob waved a hand around the kitchen, and Gabby knew what he meant. The cooking, the eating together, the easy conversations, all of it was new to him. And suddenly, that last little bit of resentment she’d felt toward Jacob faded away. Their mother had done Gabby a favor, leaving her for Nana to raise, because Nana had created a real home for her.
The least she could do was help make the same thing happen for Jacob. As he followed her directions about creaming butter and sugar together, his cowlick sticking up, concentrating on his work, Gabby felt a huge rush of love for him.
She’d been thinking about making this Christmas good for Izzy, since it was her first one. But Jacob was actually the more deprived.
While the cookies baked, Jacob held Izzy, bouncing her and making her laugh, being just a little rougher than Gabby normally was with her. When Gabby started to caution him, though, Nana put a finger to her lips. “That’s what men do for babies,” she said. “They teach them about where their bodies are in space, teach them to accept rougher play. Let him interact with his niece his own way.”
After the cookies came out and cooled enough for Jacob to wolf down six or seven of them, he muttered something about video games and headed for his room. “You go to bed, too,” Gabby said to Nana, who looked tired. “I’ll clean up after I get Izzy to sleep.”
Izzy fell to sleep almost instantly, and when Gabby came back to the kitchen, Nana was still sitting in her chair at the table.
“Sit down a minute,” Nana said. “The rest of the cleanup can wait until morning.”
Gabby sat at the table and studied Nana with concern, hoping her conversation with Jacob about their mother hadn’t upset her. “Is everything okay?”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you,” Nana said.
“Ask me? Why?”
Nana reached out and took Gabby’s hand between her two soft, papery ones. “You’ve seemed tense, or blue, for the past couple of days. Has something happened?”
Gabby looked into those knowing eyes that had seen through every teenage half-truth she’d tried to pull off. “Sort of,” she said, “but I... I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.”
“Is it Reese?”
“You see too much.” Gabby stood, restless, and got plastic wrap to put over the plate of snowball cookies.
“You know, dear,” Nana said, “I’ll always listen when you’re ready to talk about Izzy’s father and what happened.”
Gabby froze in the act of closing the box of plastic wrap. She looked up to find her grandmother’s eyes on her, observant, piercing.
“You never talked about it at the time,” Nana went on. “I barely knew you were pregnant, when suddenly I had a great-granddaughter.”
That was because Gabby had deliberately stayed away.
“I’ll tell you someday, probably,” she said, “but now isn’t the time.”
“Just answer me one question,” Nana said. “Is Reese Izzy’s father?”
Gabby stared at her and then bit her lip. “No,” she said. “No, he’s not.”
Nana nodded. “I didn’t think so. If there were a chance of that, Reese is the type of man that would find out and take care of you.”
Nana was right. Reese kept his promises and followed up on his responsibilities. That was who he was.
But what would Reese—or Nana, or anyone—think if they ever discovered the truth? Would anyone believe she’d not consented to being with Brock, when he was so popular, so wealthy, so handsome?
Once again his words came back to her. “Don’t try telling anyone you didn’t want this. No one will believe a nothing like you.” The words had burned through her anguish about the assault, because they’d had the ring of truth.
No one in town would believe her.
Maybe, possibly, Nana might...but Gabby couldn’t face the possibility that she wouldn’t.
And Reese? No. He’d had a rivalry with his cousin even back then, and there was no way he’d believe her now.
And watching him condemn her for something that truly hadn’t been her fault, something that had been the worst thing to ever happen to her...she just wasn’t strong enough to face that.
“Keeping secrets inside can be toxic,” Nana said earnestly. “I’m not saying you have to talk to me about it, but I hope you’ll talk to someone. If Izzy’s father is living, she deserves to know him. Unless there’s a reason she shouldn’t.” Again with the piercing blue gaze.
It was almost as if Nana knew, or guessed, that Izzy’s conception hadn’t been consensual.
“I’ve talked about it,” she said, which was true. She’d talked to a counselor at the college, extensively, enough to work through her guilt and believe it wasn’t her fault.
But with Brock dead—and idolized—there was no one to be angry at, no one to blame. “Thank you for caring so much,” she said, standing and kissing Nana’s cheek. “I think we should both get some rest.” She paused, then added, “Thank you for making such a wonderful home for me.”
“You’re the light of my life,” Nana said simply. “You, and now Izzy.”
That brought tears to Gabby’s eyes. As she helped Nana up, she shot a prayer of thanks heavenward. Out of sorrow, joy. It was God’s way, wrenching and beautiful.
Chapter Eight
The next day, Saturday, Reese had to dig a path from the road to the barn. Six inches of heavy snow had fallen during the night. Now snow-lined branches
pointed toward a cloudy sky that promised to yield more of the white stuff soon.
The impending bad weather matched Reese’s mood. And it wasn’t just about Gabby; it was about the future of the Rescue Haven program. What if they couldn’t show their effectiveness to Mr. Romano? What if the program died for a lack of funding?
It was pure folly to depend so heavily on one donor, and if Reese had time, he’d be out pounding on doors trying to drum up more support. There was a stack of grant applications on his desk that needed filling out, a complicated process. And there were reports to be written so that they didn’t lose the minimal funding they already had.
But he didn’t have time to work on any of that, because he had to shovel snow and organize the boys to do a performance that seemed destined to be a disaster.
He’d barely gotten the path shoveled clear when parents started dropping boys off, most of them stressed and complaining about their icy commute to work.
The boys’ moods seemed as gloomy as the weather. Gloomy as their parents’ and Reese’s moods, or maybe he was just projecting. But no, he thought as he listened to their complaints. They were really cranky today.
“I ain’t working on that show again.” That was Wolf. And when the biggest and oldest and most influential kid complained, the others were bound to follow suit.
“This is getting to be like school,” David said. Reese could have been glad the two of them agreed on something, but unfortunately, it was something negative.
“It’s my vacation,” said Connor, “and I coulda stayed home in bed, but my mom said I had to come here.”
The negative attitudes seemed to be as contagious as a bad epidemic of flu, and they shook Reese out of his worries about the financing of the program. He wanted to save the Rescue Haven program, desperately wanted it. But what was the use if the program was a drag and no boys wanted to come?
He was tempted to just declare a free, fun day. But the show needed work, and a lot of it; it just wasn’t very good. Not only that, but these particular boys didn’t do well with unstructured time.
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