by Betina Krahn
“In that case, how about a cup of coffee?” Without waiting for a response, she stooped beside Ben and gave Goldie a pat. “So how about if I steal your dad for a few minutes while you and Goldie spend some time together? Are you okay with that?”
Ben looked up with a glow of purpose on his face. “Sure.” And then he turned back to the dog, who thumped her tail in encouragement.
Kate rose and turned to Nick with a glint in her eyes. “Come with me, Trooper, and I’ll treat you to the best coffee you’ve ever had.”
While his mind was still deciding, his body took over and headed after her like a needle following a magnet. A very curvy magnet that he figured would cause him a few unsettling flashbacks in the coming week.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE LED HIM to the offices, where their coffee machine—nothing as mundane as a “pot”—sat in a corner of the kitchen-surgery. “Our director, Isabelle, graced us with this thing, swearing it was magic, and I think she may be right. Even I can coax a great brew from it, and I’m not exactly a coffee wizard.” She grabbed a couple of mugs from the shelf above and pressed some buttons on the machine. She could feel his gaze like a tangible thing, studying every movement she made. Her heart beat faster and she grew self-conscious. Minutes later, she was handing him a mug of fragrant, dark coffee and waving him toward the creamer and sugar.
He added creamer and then leaned back against the counter, one arm across his chest, the other holding the mug as he sampled the coffee. She took a position across from him, leaning against the heavy old farmhouse table that doubled as her exam table, sipping her own coffee and studying the quality of the silence between them.
“Well? What do you think?” she prompted.
“Good stuff. It tastes as good as it smells, which is saying something.”
He gave a taut smile before burying his nose in the mug, and once again the silence stretched until she felt compelled to break it.
“He’ll be fine,” she said, holding her warm mug between hands that suddenly felt chilly. Nick looked up for clarification. His hazel eyes seemed larger, more luminous. “Ben. I know you’re worried about him getting involved with these dogs and getting in over his head. But from what I can tell, he’s a remarkably grounded kid. As long as he’s guided to the right conclusions, he’ll be fine.”
“And who’s going to guide him to these ‘right’ conclusions?”
“You are.”
“What makes you think I know the ones to guide him to?”
“Because you’ve experienced loss and you got through it.”
Skepticism permeated his half smile. “You sure about that?”
She studied the curve of his lips and squelched the urge to lick hers.
“Look,” she said, “I don’t know you well, I admit. But what I’ve seen makes me think you’re somebody a kid can count on. You do the right thing. You’re not afraid to do the work, even if it’s thankless or heartbreaking. You’re strong and you’re not afraid to share that strength. And you love that boy of yours like nobody’s business.” She took another sip of coffee as she let that sink in. “How am I doing?”
“You should write campaign ads,” he said, studying her as frankly as she examined him. Her face began to heat.
“Oh, I’m sure you have your flaws,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. “But I have a feeling you’re already quite aware of them. Most people are. What they need to be reminded of is their potential...the good and the great in them that can make the world a better place.”
“Your middle name wouldn’t happen to be Pollyanna, would it?”
“Not by a long shot. Am I embarrassing you? Too personal?” Too interested? she almost said and realized that she was already declaring personal interest as openly as she could. For the first time in her life she felt perfectly fine with that. If he wasn’t interested, too, it was best to know it now. Experience had taught her that honesty was the best policy when it came to relationships.
Whoa. Was that what she thought was happening here?
Damn it, Kate—this is only the third time you’ve set eyes on him—
“Not embarrassed. A little surprised is all. Don’t know that I’ve ever been analyzed so...”
“Correctly?” she offered.
“Neatly.”
“Yeah, well, that’s me. Neat. And to the point. I’d like to think I have a bit of insight into more than just cats and dogs.”
“Well, you’re aces about one thing—I am crazy about my kid. I’d move heaven and earth to keep him from getting hurt any more than—” He looked down into his cup, then took a gulp of coffee.
“More than he already has been,” she finished the sentence for him. “His mom. I get that. But learning to handle the ups and downs of life with animals might help him learn to deal with the ups and downs of the rest of his life...his human problems.”
He canted his head, his expression now intent, searching her in a way that made her feel positively x-rayed.
“That what happened with you?” he asked, his voice quiet and all the more intense because of it. “Working with animals helped you put your ‘human’ problems in perspective?”
She was startled by his conclusion and straightened, setting her mug on the counter. She wouldn’t have put it in those terms, but now that he had, there was no use denying it. Having him turn her well-intentioned nosiness back on her was unsettling. But then, she was the one who insisted on getting so personal, and it was his son they were talking about. She paused to let her defensiveness retreat and then laid it out simply.
“Ben isn’t the only kid to have a parent or two walk out on them.”
He absorbed that for moment, searching her, drawing another of his dead-on-center conclusions, then gave a soft, through-the-teeth whistle. “Two? That sucks.”
“Big-time.” She shrugged, but found herself strangely drawn to explain, which was something she never did. Well, not before the hundredth date, which was about ninety-seven more than she usually had with the same guy. “Fortunately for me, I got dumped on Gran’s doorstep, and she knew a thing or two about caring for strays and rejects. She opened her heart to me and filled the hole in mine. After a while I didn’t think so much about the might-have-beens, only the what-can-bes. So I know it’s possible to survive and even thrive without the traditional 2.0 parents.”
He nodded, but it was a moment before he spoke.
“Your grandmother—she’s the one Ben called the ‘puppy whisperer’?” He gave a slightly crooked smile that made her pulse trip.
“The very one.”
“The one with the farm and all the animals?”
“So he talked about her?”
“I got a blow-by-blow. She really has llamas?”
“Yeah, but they’re not spitters. She has well-mannered llamas. Except that they’re not wild about the ostriches. I think they see them as competition.” Relieved that the conversation was taking a lighter turn, she laughed. “And they seem to enjoy making the baby goats ‘faint’ whenever they run through the yard.”
“Goats really faint?” His eyes brightened in a way that could only be called pleasure. She nodded and he chuckled, a low rumble that sent a trill of expectation along her exposed skin. “That would have come in handy a few times in Afghanistan.”
“Well, not all goats faint when they’re scared. It’s a genetic thing, so it might or might not have happened to Afghanistan’s goats. Might be interesting to do a little research on—” While reaching for her coffee on the counter, she caught a fleeting glimpse of a something moving across the rear yard and frowned.
“What?” he said, following her line of sight.
“I thought I saw...nothing.” She picked up her mug and was in the middle of a sip when she looked back and glimpsed Ben disappearing inside the small
kennel that housed their less cooperative charges. “Oh...”
She was in motion before she could explain, but Nick caught her tension and followed.
“What’s happened? What’s going on?”
“We left him with Goldie. What’s he doing in the small kennel?”
They found him at the far end of the concrete alley, where he was struggling to get the latch up on a run, amid a horrific din of barking.
“Don’t!” she called, but it was too late. The door of the run swung open, and a German shepherd—Goldie’s German shepherd—came charging out. He just missed knocking Ben over as he whirled to face Kate and Nick.
“Ben, get behind the run’s door and stay there!” Nick barked, looking frantically around for something to wrap his arm to absorb the attack he felt must be coming. But the dog slowed for a moment before shooting between them and straight out the open door.
A heartbeat later Ben came running down the alley after the dog, his eyes wide. “Come on, Dad, we have to get him!”
Nick snatched him back, hauling him up with an arm around his waist while he struggled to get free. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, letting that dog out? He could have bitten you!”
“We have to get him!” Ben tried to free himself from his father’s grip.
It was hard to hear above the racket the dogs were making, but Kate caught “Goldie” and “him,” and grabbed Ben’s hands.
“Why did you let the shepherd free? Ben, look at me!” She bent closer. “What has this got to do with Goldie?”
“She needs him.” He looked up with tears of frustration gathering, his chest heaving. “He’s her friend. He can help her get up.”
“So, you came to get him to help her.” She looked at Nick, whose arms loosened around Ben, and she saw that he understood what was happening, too. He let Ben slide to his feet. Then she glanced toward the door. “He’s loose. And running.”
* * *
MOMENTS LATER, THEY were all running across the yard after a fast disappearing streak of dark fur. Fortunately, the shepherd had headed for an area thick with fences—the meeting yards. He was diverted by one fence and raced around it only to confront another that caused him to slow further. Sensing pursuit, the shepherd darted through an open gate and raced across a fenced yard that ended too quickly. As he raced around the fence, gathering speed for a jump, Nick’s voice made him falter.
“No!” The words and tone had equal impact. “Stand down, soldier!”
A moment later, Nick thudded to stop in the very yard where he had worked with the shepherd a week earlier. What exactly caused the shepherd to hesitate—the familiar location or the familiar voice—was impossible to say, but he slowed and looked at Nick. Some bit of instinct or training asserted itself in his canine mind, and he halted along the fence, standing braced and wary.
Nick stood for a minute, letting his breathing slow, and then began a circuit of the yard, near the fence, talking as he went.
“Just where do you think you’d go, you stubborn mutt? Huh? We had this talk before, remember? The big wide world is not all it’s cracked up to be.” The words probably didn’t matter; it was the sound of his voice, the certainty in it that would convince the shepherd to listen to him. The shepherd fixed on him, seeming less agitated, and as he walked and talked, he felt himself calming, as well.
“There are bigger dogs out there. Meaner dogs. And it’s wet and cold and there’s not enough food.” He watched the dog’s reaction from the corner of his eye. “And—here’s the kicker—your girlfriend is here. Yeah. Goldie. She’s here. And she needs to see your flea-bitten hide.” He paced closer, watching for any signs of aggression or flight. “Don’t know what she sees in you, but Ben, here, seems to think she’s missing you. So you better shape up, soldier. Starting now.” He turned to face the dog fully. “Sit.”
There was a heart-stopping pause as the dog assessed the man and the command. Then, miracle of miracles, the shepherd lowered his rear to the ground.
“I could really use that lead now,” Nick said without easing his stance or taking his gaze from the dog.
Kate entered the yard, walked slowly to Nick and put the leash she had snagged on the way out of the kennel in his outstretched hand. By the time she had retreated to where Ben waited beside the gate, Nick had approached the dog and was murmuring quietly to it. The dog eyed the leash and glanced around for an avenue of escape. Nick talked calmly to the animal, letting him decide to cooperate. It didn’t take long. Another order to “sit” brought quick obedience.
When the loop dropped around his neck, the shepherd strained back against the pressure. Nick gave him a little room and called him to “come” and then “heel.” Another tense moment passed as the shepherd came to his left side and stood slightly behind his leg.
Nick walked the shepherd through the gate to join them and saw Kate pat Ben’s shoulder. They both exhaled with relief. The dog was still skittish, moving at the limit of the leash, but he followed Nick toward the main kennel building. At the door, where Nick paused to let Kate and Ben catch up, the dog’s nose came up and quivered.
Kate and Ben went first and found Goldie still on her blanket, head on paws, her immobilized leg stretched out to the side. At the sight of them, her tail thumped. Then she caught a familiar scent and her head came up sharply, her nose working excitedly.
The shepherd bulleted into the kennel and a moment later he and Goldie were nose to nose and wagging tails. The shepherd sniffed her all over while she examined his legs and underside from her position on the floor. Inspections over, he jumped and turned in circles, making odd whimpering sounds...a canine display of joy if there ever was one.
“Look at her.” Kate delighted in the spark returning to Goldie’s eyes. “She’s thrilled to see him again. And he’s acting like a puppy.”
“I knew he would help her,” Ben said, grinning from ear to ear. He knelt beside Goldie and put his hands under her side and strained to lift her. “Come on, girl. Don’t you want to get up now?”
The shepherd stretched his forelegs out along the floor, rump in the air, in invitation. Goldie’s front half moved to meet his posture, and her rear struggled to rise on muscles that hadn’t been used in too long. Ben struggled to help lift her.
“Wait, Ben. Let her try on her own,” Kate said, waving him back. For a moment they watched the golden struggle to rise without putting weight on her broken leg. When she finally reached a stable three-legged stance, she had what looked like a grin on her face. Ben let out a whoop that made Goldie jerk back—using her immobilized leg to steady herself. It took a moment for her to realize she was able to use the cast for support, but soon she was walking with a somewhat awkward hop to meet the shepherd down the aisle.
Their playtime was sweet and memorable but didn’t last long. Goldie was still weak, and when she sat down and started to nose her hip and cast, Kate said she might be in some pain from the exertion. She ran to the surgery for a dose of medication.
“How could anyone, seeing those two together, deny that dogs are capable of love,” she said to Nick as they stood together watching the shepherd nose and lick Goldie’s stitches and then move on to inspect and lick her ears. “He’s tending her as if she were a puppy.”
“Interesting.” He spoke his thoughts aloud. “They have a bond of some kind. Makes me wonder if they came from the same household.”
“We may never know. But I can already see that separating the two of them is not a good idea.” She frowned. “Which means the chance of them finding forever homes is less than great. People who can adopt two large adult dogs together are pretty rare.”
In the end, they decided to move the shepherd permanently to the main kennel and into a run with Goldie. Ben asked if he could write their names on the card the staff kept on the door, and in his neatest hand, he printed Gol
die and Soldier.
“Soldier?” Kate asked as he handed her the card to post.
“That’s him,” Ben said, pointing to the shepherd. “That’s what Dad calls him—Soldier.”
Kate looked up at Nick, who blinked in surprise. “So he did.” She tried it out. “Soldier. Nice name for a shepherd.” A grin bloomed on her face. “Good job, Dad.”
He felt himself blush but he smiled back. “Anytime.”
After seeing to bedding, snacks and water, they left the pair there—curled happily side by side—to rest.
“You should have seen him,” Ben told Nance when they saw her in the office later. “He was so excited to see her and they bumped noses and jumped around.”
“Well, sometimes we need a friend to help us get well. Good friends make good medicine,” Nance said, ruffling his hair. “You thought of getting them together all by yourself?”
Ben glanced at his dad, who gave him a half-hearted look of disapproval. “Yeah, I did. But I won’t do it again.” There was mischief in his second glance at his dad. “Unless I ask first.”
* * *
KATE WATCHED HER grandmother charming Ben with her appreciation of his actions and her offhand lessons in life, and stole a glimpse at Nick. He seemed uncertain whether her admiration of Ben’s headstrong behavior was such a positive thing. She chuckled, having been on the horns of that same dilemma regarding her grandmother’s actions more times than she could count.
“Consider it a good lesson,” she said, edging closer and lowering her voice. “One he’ll probably remember for some time to come.”
He regarded her thoughtfully, then nodded and jammed his hands firmly into his pockets.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“IT’S SATURDAY.” JESS checked her watch the next week as she eyed the door to their front office and waiting room.
“So it is,” Kate said, glancing up from the computer, where she was entering a treatment plan for the standard poodle she had just seen.
