“The news was full of reports about her heroin addiction.” The censure in his voice was unmistakable.
“And I knew my addiction was just as real and as bad as hers. I refuse to make excuses or let that be some kind of cop-out because I used prescription drugs.”
“Good for you.” He nodded curtly.
Defensiveness snapped and popped inside her like a log that had fallen into a banked fire. “Are you being sarcastic?”
“Absolutely not.” He looked at her, the sun glinting through the windshield and reflecting in his blue eyes. “That level of awareness is . . . rare.”
While her heart warmed at the hint of understanding and an inkling of acceptance, she couldn’t hide from the truth, especially on a day like today when that reality smacked her in the face. This pull she felt to AJ couldn’t go anywhere. She had her life in order now and would cope in her usual manner. She would lose herself in her work.
“Thanks, AJ, and I mean that.” She shrugged, the blanket sliding off her shoulders. “But I’m still the proverbial arsonist to your firefighter.”
* * *
AJ PARKED THE SUV in the gravel lot beside the Second Chance Ranch’s play area. In spite of the twenty-degree weather, volunteers were out in force. A woman wearing puffy earmuffs and mittens tossed a tennis ball for three leggy Labs racing circles in the packed snow. An older gentleman wearing an Elmer Fudd hat walked a former racing greyhound that had been rescued after breaking a leg. Lacey’s son, Nathan, and his girlfriend each carried a fuzzy husky puppy as they walked toward the farmhouse. The teens laughed and chased each other, so very young and full of puppy love. In more ways than one.
Apparently no one in the rescue community was taking the holidays off.
And damn, he was focusing on the dogs—on anything—to keep from thinking about Mary Hannah’s revelation. She was a former addict. That admission still rocked him to the core. He never would have guessed that of her, not in a million years. But addiction wasn’t predictable. He shouldn’t be surprised. Disappointed. Hell, even feeling betrayed.
Still, he was.
He opened Mary Hannah’s door. “Are you sure you won’t just go up to your apartment?”
“Once I have Holly settled with you, we’ll be done.”
He didn’t believe her for an instant. She would work till she dropped, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He didn’t have any say in her life. “Lead the way.”
She pushed open the barn door, warm air drifting out. Heating the place must be tough with all those doggie doors in the kennel runs letting the animals go through to the outside, but somehow they managed to keep the place toasty.
The inside of the barn hummed with controlled activity, people wearing volunteer aprons moving in some kind of Zen-like choreography. Elevator music played with such soothing tones he resisted the urge to yawn. The stalls were all occupied now because of the new dogs picked up today.
A pair of volunteers worked in the corner bathing area, an extra heater on full blast. A poodle was curled up asleep with a dryer pointed on her, and another was having the earlier shave job from the shelter prettied up, half drugged to reduce the stress. Their puppies were nearby, each litter clean and piled on top of one another in a bed under a warming lamp.
Holly lay in the last stall, her head on her paws as she stared at the puppies, her food untouched beside her. AJ took in all the animal gear and paraphernalia around him, realizing for the first time what he’d taken on in caring for this dog.
He swept off his stocking hat and stuffed it in his coat pocket. “This has moved so fast, I don’t have anything at my place for Holly. Maybe she should stay here until, I, uh—”
“Don’t worry,” Mary Hannah said briskly, unlocking the supply closet.
“Can I give you a hand?”
She waved him away. “I’ve got this. We’ll loan you a leash, collar, harness, dog bed and a bag of food to get you started. We also can make tags here for her collar. She has antibiotics to take for her mastitis—”
“Mastitis?” He backed up a step. “Isn’t that, uh—” He gestured around his chest.
She laughed, the sound light and floating up toward the high ceiling. Even Holly shifted at the sweet sound. “The shelter vet said since her puppies were pulled so early and abruptly, she developed an infection. After she’s been on the antibiotics for a week, if everything clears, she’ll be spayed. Be careful that she doesn’t get loose. The last thing we need is for her to get pregnant again.”
“So, um”—he knelt down in front of the kennel gate, staring through the wiring at Holly—“she and I are supposed to do what?”
“Over the next month and a half, you’ll work with her, make her more adoptable by easing her anxiety, help her connect with people and teach her a few commands—and yes, I’ll explain in detail, with flyers that review everything we discuss.” Her mouth twitched. “You won’t be surprised to hear how well organized my handouts are. You’ll have all the information, resources and support you need to prepare Holly for a family of her own.”
He smiled back, envisioning all those flyers in some binder or accordion folder, color coded and alphabetized. His smile faded as he thought about how her driving need for organization had pushed her to such extremes in college, even into drug abuse. He’d seen it happen more times than he could count.
Cricking his neck to the side, he looked back at Holly. “I can do that. I’m not sure how it’s supposed to make me appear more levelheaded to my boss, but whatever. I’ll hit Google, too.”
“Never underestimate the power of Googling for articles and advice. But just to be sure, one of our most seasoned volunteers—Jim—will walk Holly to your cabin. He’ll review some basics and make sure Holly settles in okay. We don’t want any surprises.”
He poked his fingers through the gate, wriggling them through to pet her nose. She inched away.
Mary Hannah said, “As a general rule, you shouldn’t stick your fingers through the gate like that, for your safety and the animal’s.”
He drew his hand back. “Are we confident she’s not going to bite me? You said the Lab bit because he was terrified.”
“That was a different kind of fear and agitation. We wouldn’t have placed her with you if we didn’t think she was safe. But as with any animal, I would urge common sense. Don’t drag her. Don’t hit her. If she has an accident in the house, don’t shove her nose in it—” She paused, crossing her arms over her chest, chewing her bottom lip. “You know, maybe you’re right. Maybe we should wait a day or so after all and ease you into this.”
His back went stiff. “You’re sending that volunteer along to babysit me. I do know basics of animal care and human kindness. I’m not just going to rely on Google.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I lived with a woman once who got a puppy. We went to obedience classes for six weeks.”
“You never mentioned that.”
“The woman or the puppy?”
“The obedience training,” she snapped smartly.
Why hadn’t he? Hell, he didn’t know why he did half the things he did lately. Mostly, he tried to keep to himself. Was that why he’d missed the signs that she was a recovering addict?
Complex questions, to say the least. He settled for an easy answer. “If I’d mentioned it, Wyatt would have pressured me to foster sooner to help him impress Lacey.”
“Fair enough.” Mary Hannah knelt beside him, wincing and shifting her weight off the bitten leg. “It’s going to be a challenge getting her to come out of her shell.”
“How will she win a competition if she won’t even let me touch her?”
“Give it time. There are many different levels of success. You can do a lot with before-and-after photos and video footage that shares her story.” Mary Hannah focused on the kennel run, her face tipped, the silky black hair sliding to hi
de her face. “She’s a beautiful girl.”
Holly wasn’t the only one.
His fingers itched to touch Mary Hannah’s hair, to test the slide and glide of those strands between his fingers, to tuck it behind her ear again. But everything he’d thought he knew about her had been turned upside down in the hospital, and he needed time to resolve that in his mind.
“What happens now?”
He asked about the dog, wondered about a helluva lot more. Mary Hannah swept back her hair, and her dark brown eyes met his, holding, confusion and awareness swirling like winter flurries in a night sky.
She stood quickly, tucking back into the supply closet, her voice drifting out. “I wouldn’t worry about anything other than becoming friends with her. For today, just let her explore at her pace.” She stepped out with a bag of food and set it by the gate. “Give her space.”
“Space. Got it.” He was good at that.
“Keep treats with you at all times.” She placed three boxes of dog biscuits on top of the bag. “Keep them beside you. She’ll slowly make her way to them.”
He watched her build the pile of supplies with neat efficiency, tucking the leash, collar, tags and a couple of booklets into a brown paper sack with the treats. “I’ll stop by tomorrow with the flyers and our first session once I can evaluate how things are going in your home.” She paused, picking at the tie on her surgical scrubs. “Unless you need me to help now.”
“You should take the rest of the afternoon off. You’ve been through a lot. Maybe you should take tomorrow off as well.”
“I’m already late and I have patients to see.” She swept a hand over her head and held back her hair. “Let’s focus on Holly.”
He could tell from the stubborn set of her jaw, she wasn’t changing her mind about resting longer. So he scooped up the bag of dog food and the brown paper sack. “I should walk these over to the house. I’ll jog over and be back in couple of minutes to meet Jim and take Holly. I assume she’ll walk on a leash?”
“We’ll find out. If not, Jim has some tricks to get her moving. But every dog is different. Some do better with another alpha to lead the way. Some need to be away from the pack so they have to look to the human.”
“God, poor pup.”
“I agree.” She unlocked the gate, a collar and leash in her hand. “But you can’t pity her, not if you expect to make progress. Your instinct will be to baby her, but you have to be careful with that because it reinforces her fears. I’m not saying be hardhearted. But there are ways to build her confidence, to ease her bit by bit outside her comfort zone without pushing too fast or far.”
Was she talking in layers? Was it the counselor in her trying to nudge out his locked-up feelings about the past? He’d agreed to this project to appease his boss and his cousin, but he was already feeling itchy.
“This is going to be tougher than I expected.” He jostled the bags in his arms until they settled against his chest.
“And absolutely worth it.” She slid down to sit, leaning against the kennel wall without touching Holly, just sitting in a nonthreatening manner like she’d instructed him to do. “When you see her shine with confidence and joy . . . it’s one of the most rewarding experiences.”
“You really believe that’s possible for her.” Seemed damn near unattainable now, but looking in Mary Hannah’s eyes, he saw a glistening hope that reminded him of all the paisley optimism in her outlook. Regardless of what she’d done in the past, her former addiction, he couldn’t deny she had a big heart.
“There’s something in her eyes that makes me believe Holly can blossom. She may not ever be the dog she could have been if she’d been nurtured and socialized from the start, but she can have so much more than she has now.” Mary Hannah looked at the boxer, her eyes filling with compassion. “She will be . . . Holly.”
The caring in her eyes drew him in like moths to a lightbulb, making him want to forget what he’d learned about her today. He stepped closer, into the half-open gate.
“AJ . . .” She raised a hand to stop him in his tracks. “I’m the arsonist in this scenario, remember?”
And she sure as hell was making sure he would never forget.
The reminder hit him like sleet against bare skin. And not because he doubted her, but because he doubted himself.
He couldn’t deny she lit a fire inside him, one he needed to rethink feeding. Today had shown him too well how vulnerable Mary Hannah was.
Turning on his heels, carrying the food and bag of supplies for Holly, he started to leave the barn, toward his solitary cabin.
Eleven
Thirty-six hours drug-free and counting. Good-bye, Peppermint Lady. Hello, bachelor pad. What AJ lacked in decorating taste, he made up for in a phenomenally large television screen. I fell asleep that night with my old friend Alex Trebek.
—HOLLY
MARY HANNAH STEPPED through the elevator doors, stuck in a hospital for the second time in two days. But this time was different since she was there to help the patient, not be the patient. Normally that was the kind of thinking that got her through the day when she visited a hospitalized client.
It wasn’t working so well for her today, not after the sleepless night she’d had.
She wished she could have done as AJ suggested and taken a couple of days off to rest. Her leg hurt like hell from the bite, and whatever was in the injections made her stomach churn. But she’d pushed through, showered and readied for work this morning. She needed to check in on this particular wounded army veteran—Captain Declan Roberts.
The holidays were toughest on people already in crisis. And the Roberts family of three was most definitely stressed to the max since the Captain had been wounded overseas.
Mary Hannah shrugged her paisley bag more securely onto her shoulder, her low-heeled leather boots clicking on the bleached tile. She wore her glasses instead of contacts, a small difference really, but the frames gave her an added layer of protection, a barrier between her and the world. Besides, her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. Between the dog bite, confessing her battle with addiction and resisting the attraction to AJ, her own stress level was off the charts.
Holidays were tough on more than just her patients.
Christmas decorations still sparkled, garlands draped along the front of the nurses’ station. A decorated fake tree towered in a waiting area, without presents now that Santa was done for the year. And on Captain Roberts’s door? A construction-paper wreath, made from cutout handprints glued into a circle.
No doubt made by the little boy sitting on the floor outside the door. He leaned over a coloring book, a box of crayons open beside him. Henry Roberts—Declan and Callie’s only child, four years old with blond hair and round glasses. The child didn’t remember a time when his father wasn’t at war or in the hospital. Henry would never remember his father holding him with both arms.
Mary Hannah gripped the handles on her bag until her fingers numbed. She knew she had a vulnerable spot when it came to kids, but there was something about Henry that tugged at her all the more, making her wonder a million times over what her child would have looked like. If her baby would have been a boy or girl. So many questions and what-ifs she would never have answered.
She reined in her thoughts and focused on Henry. He was his own person, not an extension of her lost dreams. She nodded to the nurses behind the station before reaching the too-quiet child.
“Hi, Henry,” she said softly.
“Hey, Ms. Gallo.” He waved without looking up from his coloring book as he traced alphabet letters with a purple crayon. He painstakingly traced the large C on a page of cookies while his snow boots twitched back and forth as if his feet were itching to run and play.
Mary Hannah knelt, struggling not to grimace at the pain to her leg. “Did you get that coloring book in your stocking for Christmas?”
“Yeah, plus some candy, and a video game, too, but Mom says I gotta do school stuff first.” He scrunched up his face, hand shaking as he worked so hard to trace. “Gotta work on my motor skills.”
“That’s a good mommy thing to say.”
“Yuh-huh.” He colored the spots on a chocolate chip cookie. An aide pushed a food cart past, wheels squeaking and trays rattling.
“Where is your mom?”
“In there. With him.” Henry rarely used the word Dad. “They’re fighting again.”
Low voices echoed through the door, hushed but tense, just barely discernible over the filtering noise of televisions and normal conversations in other rooms. Declan and Callie were having a rough time adjusting to his injuries. The recovery had been long and painful, and life would never be the same for them.
Helping them felt like filling a bucket with a hole in the bottom. She suspected their problems had started before the accident, but neither was willing to admit that yet. She could only keep trying. There was a saying that the therapist could work only as hard as the patient.
Mary Hannah lowered herself the rest of the way. “Do you mind if I sit here with you until they finish their conversation? I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”
Henry looked up, his green eyes wide behind his round glasses. “Aren’t you s’posed to fix them?”
If only it was that simple. “I’m here to help how I can. I’ll visit with them when they’re ready. For now, I’ll keep you company.”
“Sure, whatever.” He put away his crayon, closed the coloring book and stashed it in his lion backpack. He tucked his hand in deep and pulled out a Leap Frog learning video. Lights whirled and flickered on the screen.
She leaned closer, her next breath taking in the smell of children’s shampoo and waxy crayons. “What kind of game is that?”
“I’m building a farm.” Little pigs marched across the screen with numbers on their bellies.
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