by Jane Porter
Silence followed. Sawyer took his time answering. “I don’t think people are looking for payback, Quinn. That’s not how we are here in this part of Montana.”
“Maybe that’s why I really want to do this. Maybe it’s why I need to do this. It gives me a chance to come home and belong. I haven’t felt like I belonged here since I headed off to play ball.”
“Is that why you never visit?”
Quinn shrugged. “That big house of mine doesn’t quite feel like mine yet.”
“It will if you spend enough time here.”
Quinn smiled ruefully. “I think that’s the plan.” He extended a hand to Sawyer. “Now let’s get you in the house so Jenna doesn’t have to come back out.”
Sawyer put his gloved hand into Quinn’s and allowed him to help pull him to his feet. “Well in that case, I accept,” he said, adjusting the crutches beneath his arms. “Because, apparently, I’m actually doing you a favor.” He cracked a smile, and then his expression turned thoughtful. “Did Carson Scott really offer to come over and help out here?”
“He did.”
“Even though this is his busiest time, too.”
“But you’d do the same for him, if the situation was reversed, wouldn’t you?”
Sawyer nodded. “Yes. I would.”
*
The day seemed to creep by for Charity. She was counting down the hours until she could head to the tree farm to see Quinn but finally it was almost time for her to leave and she was determined to get out of the office on time.
Greg emerged from his office as she turned off her computer and cleaned off her desk for the night. “Have time for a drink?” he asked.
“I can’t. I have plans,” she answered, aware that she was already late getting out to the Gallaghers.
“I’m sure you can spare me thirty minutes.”
She grabbed her coat and purse and headed out the door. “I really have to go,” she said, even as Greg followed her out the door where he grabbed her elbow to stop her.
“Meghan didn’t mean anything. We were friends—”
“I don’t care, Greg. I really don’t.”
“Just give me a half hour,” he said persuasively, still holding onto her sleeve. “Better yet, let me take you to dinner. I want to fix this. I feel so bad about what happened.” He gave her his winning smile; the one she used to think was boyish and charming but now made her stomach knot.
She yanked herself free and took a step away. “We work together, but that’s it. We’re not friends. We will never be friends. Good night.”
“You’re making me sound like a bad person. I’m not a bad person.”
It was dark out and cold and this part of Main Street was pretty much deserted. Two blocks south Grey’s Saloon gleamed with light, but Melk Realty was on a quieter end of the street and Charity wasn’t comfortable anymore. “Fine. You’re not a bad person. Can I please just go now?”
“You don’t realize what a small town this is. People are upset with me, Charity. They’re taking their business to other real estate agents. It’s not fair to me. We weren’t engaged. We weren’t married. People need to stop taking sides.”
“I agree. It’s no one’s business but yours and mine.”
“Thank you. Now help me fix this.”
“Fix it how?” she asked, wrapping her soft knit scarf around her neck.
“I don’t know. Spread the word that we’re okay. Have a drink with me in public so everyone will know we’re on good terms.”
She shuddered with distaste. “First of all, I haven’t tried to poison anyone. If people are upset, it’s because everyone knew about you seeing Meghan and they felt bad for me. I don’t like being pitied so this isn’t fun for me, either. And in the future, remember that Marietta is a small town and bad news travels fast.”
“I need those clients, Charity.”
“Then have some integrity,” she flashed.
He cursed and reached for her again but suddenly the golden retriever was there, pushing between them, growling at Greg, keeping him back.
“Hey!” Greg exclaimed, swinging his foot at the dog. “Go, get. Scram!”
“Leave him alone,” Charity snapped, drawing the dog away from Greg. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter with me? This dog almost attacked—”
“He didn’t attack. He just growled at you.” She rubbed the retriever’s ear, and then the top of his head. The dog’s coat was rough. He hadn’t been combed in ages.
“He’s a menace. I’m going to call the sheriff’s office and report him. He’s been running around town for the past few days.”
“You report him, and I’ll report you.”
“For what?”
“For threatening my dog.”
“He’s not your dog.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Charity, he’s not your dog. You don’t have a dog. I know. I’ve been to your house.”
“I recently adopted him.”
“As in just now?”
“It’s none of your business. He’s my dog.”
“So what’s his name?”
“Noel.”
“Noel? For a male dog?”
“Yes.”
He rolled his eyes, disgusted. “Now who’s the liar?”
“I’m not lying. I’m going to keep him until I find his owners.”
“He may just be a stray.”
“Then maybe he’s just found his forever home.” She gave Greg a defiant smile, and patted her leg, signaling the dog to follow, and thankfully, Noel did.
*
Rory couldn’t get out to the tree farm for the afternoon as he’d promised, and Trey Sheenan, McKenna’s husband, came in his place.
Once upon a time Trey had been a huge problem for Quinn and Rory, but now that Trey and McKenna were finally together, settled and strong, Trey had become someone the entire family relied on. Trey had completely turned his life around, and that transformation inspired Quinn, and reaffirmed his belief in a higher power.
But even with his faith, Quinn struggled with his purpose. People liked to tell him that there was a reason he hadn’t died in the tragedy at the ranch, but he hadn’t discovered that purpose yet.
As a teenager, Quinn had wrestled with questions and doubts, and sometimes the doubts returned. In those moments he prayed for strength, not wanting to let his parents down, aware that he was their legacy, and that he needed to succeed for them, to prove that they had been good people, loving people, and that their love and life hadn’t been in vain.
He told no one this.
He was an athlete, and people wanted him to make great plays and provide entertainment, but at home, when he was alone, he felt an aching awareness that there should be more.
He was supposed to do more.
But what?
Perhaps the plan had not yet been revealed, and maybe the challenge was to keep believing. His parents had lived in faith. They had reached out to everyone, giving to all. Their generosity had sometimes made it difficult for them to pay their bills, but he would have it no other way.
Friends mattered, family mattered, community mattered. Community helped him heal after he was injured. Everyone in Marietta had wished him well, rallying around the three of them—Rory, Quinn and McKenna—and he’d been so grateful for the support that once he was back at high school, every time there was a local fund-raiser, he took part. Every time there was a car wash or a trash pickup, he volunteered. He did that all the way through high school and college. But after being drafted he didn’t come home as much, not intentionally distancing himself from Marietta, but he was focused on his career, thinking that maybe he’d do something in baseball that would matter. But in the end, his athletic accomplishments weren’t that significant. He wasn’t one of the greats; he’d never join the Hall of Fame.
Quinn felt the clap of a firm hand on his back.
“You all right?” Trey’s deep voice asked gruffly.
Quinn grimaced. “Am I exuding bad vibes?”
Trey gave him another firm pat on the back and then shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “You wouldn’t know how to exude bad vibes, and that’s saying something because I know what you have been through.”
“I don’t think of it that way. I’m one of the lucky ones.”
“That doesn’t mean coming home isn’t hard for you. Things have changed since you were the most valuable player at Marietta High.”
Quinn’s lips twisted. “It’s more complicated now, for sure.”
“It takes time to make a place home, not easy when your job is on the West Coast.” Trey paused. “But it helps when there is something, or someone here, that calls you back.”
“You mean family.”
“Or a pretty girl.”
Quinn shot him a swift glance but said nothing.
Trey grinned, a lazy cocky smile before nodding toward the parking lot where Charity had just pulled in. “And look, here she is.”
*
Charity got out of the car and carefully closed the door, telling Noel she’d be right back. Noel whined softly and she tried to give him a reassuring smile.
He’d behaved beautifully on the drive from town, sitting in the passenger seat beside her, looking out the window as if this was an everyday occurrence, and maybe it was. Maybe his owner used to take him everywhere. Maybe he had a family that was missing him desperately right now. She’d have to call the local shelter and get Noel checked by a local vet to see if he had a chip that might identify him since he wore no collar. But until then, she wasn’t about to leave him where Greg could get to him.
Quinn had been talking to Trey Sheenan when Charity pulled up and broke away from Trey when she parked. He was walking her way now and she stood her ground, not sure how he’d react to her having a stray dog in her car, but not about to abandon Noel now that she had him.
Quinn spotted the retriever before Charity could even say anything. “I didn’t know you had a dog,” he said.
“I don’t,” she answered, zipping up her coat against the cold.
“Is it your parents’?”
“He’s been wandering around downtown Marietta for a few days and I was worried about him. I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”
“So he’s going to live in your car?”
She laughed, because she could see the teasing light in Quinn’s lovely blue eyes. “No. In the morning, I’m going to take him in to the vet and see if he has a microchip. Hopefully, I can find the owner, but until I do, I’ll take care of him.”
“He’s friendly?”
“He growled at Greg.”
“Good dog.”
Charity’s lips curved and her heart squeezed, making the air catch in her throat. Something about Quinn made her see possibilities.
She could see herself watching the evening news with him at the end of the day, going to church with him, and lacing up their skates at Miracle Lake on weekends. In January, when the days were long and dark, they could go to a movie and have dinner at the Chinese restaurant afterward. And on the nights when it rained and the wind howled, they’d be safe and warm together.
There was a whole life that could be lived with Quinn. She wanted that life, but was it an impossible dream?
“Want to meet Noel?” she asked.
Quinn choked on a muffled laugh. “Noel?”
“Don’t make the same mistake Greg did. It’s a great name.”
“I just thought the dog didn’t have any tags?”
“Noel doesn’t, but it’s almost Christmas and the name suits him.”
Quinn opened the door and crouched down, letting the dog decide if he wanted to go to Quinn.
Noel did.
Noel raced toward him, tongue hanging out, apparently thrilled by this new human. Quinn rubbed Noel’s neck, and then gave him a good scratch behind the ear. Noel’s tail thumped happily. Quinn crooned something that pleased Noel so much that the dog’s tongue swiped the side of Quinn’s face.
“I think Noel likes you,” Charity said, inordinately pleased by how quickly the two were bonding. “I told Greg he’s a good dog. There’s no way I’m going to let animal control take him.”
“What if you can’t find his owners?”
“I’ll keep him.”
His eyebrow shot up. “Just like that?”
“Well, not just like that. I’ll have to find a new place to live. Mom is allergic to dogs, but it’s time I had my own place, and this way I won’t be alone. I’ll have Noel.”
“Whoa. Slow down. Noel may have owners desperate to get him back.”
“I think that’s probably true, and I’m going to work on it tomorrow. It’s Saturday. I have the whole day off. But if he doesn’t have a home I want him. He was there for me earlier today, and I want to be there for him.”
Quinn’s expression changed. “What happened earlier?”
“Greg was getting a little handsy and Noel appeared out of nowhere and stepped between us and growled at Greg.” She glanced at the handsome dog that seemed to be listening intently, and she flashed Noel a grateful smile. “What a good boy he is.”
*
Quinn kept his voice calm even as he saw red. “What do you mean by handsy?” he asked. “What exactly did Greg do?”
“He was just grabbing at me and Noel didn’t like it.”
“Grabbing at you?”
“He likes to try to intimidate me, but I’m not intimidated. He forgets that I was raised on Chance Avenue. Growing up, it was the rough part of town.”
“How long has this been going on? And why?”
“He’s upset that he’s lost business because of me.”
“That’s his fault,” Quinn said tersely. “Not yours.”
“I know.”
“He’s not a victim and he has no business turning this onto you. I—” Quinn broke off, unwilling to finish the sentence. But that didn’t mean he was going to let this slide. He took a slow breath, trying to calm down. He glanced from Charity to the big dog. “So if you can’t take Noel home, where is he staying tonight?”
She gave him a hopeful look. “With you?”
He pictured his big, empty house.
She lifted her hands, pressing them together in a prayerful pose. “Please?”
Looking down into her beautiful face, he was a goner. This was his woman. He couldn’t resist her. He couldn’t disappoint her. Maybe he wasn’t on earth for ball. Maybe he was still here for her. “Noel can stay with me tonight,” he said.
She flung her arms around him. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He held her close for a moment before letting her go. “My pleasure.”
Cars had been pulling in while they talked and the Christmas tree lot was filling quickly with people.
“I better get back to work,” he said. “Are we still eating dinner later?”
Her mouth opened, and then closed. “Oh no, I totally forgot. Things were weird at work and then I was so worried about Noel—”
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll go get something.”
“Don’t. Please. Jenna has been keeping a tuna casserole in the oven warm for me. I’ll just have some of that later.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“I don’t care.” He pulled her back toward him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m just glad you’re here.” He meant it, too. He liked having her near. Everything was better when she was close by. He let her go but she didn’t step away. He liked that, too.
“What if I go up to the house and see if Jenna and Sawyer mind if Noel hangs out with me while you work?” she said.
“Good idea,” he said. “And make sure you have some of that tuna casserole, too.”
*
Charity popped her head into the Gallaghers’ house. Jenna and Sawyer were on the couch, side by side, watching the evening news. Sawyer’s arm was around Jenna’s shoulder, and his injured leg was
up on the ottoman, his crutches nearby. Jenna’s head was on her husband’s shoulder and her hand rested on her round belly. They looked incredibly cozy and happy, just the way a young family should. This was what she wanted one day. A friend, a partner, unconditional love.
“Hate to intrude,” she said, stepping into the family room, “but wanted to check in on you guys. Everything okay?”
Sawyer gave her a thumbs-up sign.
“Doing well,” Jenna said, giving her belly a light rub. “Thankfully this one has settled back down.”
“Very good news,” Charity said.
Sawyer gestured to the kitchen. “Quinn’s dinner is in the oven. Is he coming in to eat, or are you taking him a plate?”
“I’ll take him a plate as soon as he has a break,” Charity answered. “But I do have a question for you. Not sure how you feel about dogs, but I have a golden retriever in my car and I’d love to let him out to stretch his legs. Would you have a problem with that?”
“When did you get a dog?” Jenna asked.
“He’s lost, I think. I’m going to take him to Dr. Sullivan’s in the morning to see if he’s been microchipped, and Quinn said he’d keep Noel for the night—”
“Noel?” Sawyer interrupted.
Charity made a face. “Why do guys not like that name? Never mind. Don’t answer. Let me go get him.”
Noel was delighted to be out of the car and walked next to Charity as they crossed the parking lot and headed for the house. Inside, he was a perfect gentleman. He sat when commanded and then put his paw in Sawyer’s hand when Sawyer said shake.
“He’s been well trained,” Sawyer said, impressed.
“And well loved,” Jenna added. “Look how sweet he is.”
Sawyer gave the dog a good pat, examining Noel’s coat, and then pressing against his side. “He’s pretty thin. You can feel each rib. I have a feeling he’s been on his own for some time.”
Charity nodded. “He’s been wandering around downtown for the past few days, but where did he come from? Whose dog is he?”
“I don’t know, but we need to feed him,” Jenna said. “We still have the rest of that huge meatloaf from lunch. Mix it with some of the leftover rice in there. I bet he’d love it.”
“Does the meatloaf have onions?”
“Not this recipe.”
