The Moment of Truth

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  L.G. didn’t seem to be in any hurry to go back in his cage.

  Josh wasn’t in any hurry to get back to work, either, although he still had a number of things he wanted to accomplish that day.

  But a break was good. Just ask LG.

  Work hard, play hard.

  One of his father’s truisms. And as Josh stood there eating cookies, soaking up the sun’s heat while he watched a little black runt nosedive in the dirt, shake himself off, and bounce around in glee, he re-formed his father’s teaching.

  Work well, play well.

  His phone beeped with a text message, interrupting his thoughts.

  Like what? it said.

  Grinning, he fired back, Like people spend too much time worrying about what other people think, and hit Send.

  Agreed. Glad you like the cookies.

  He glanced at the container he had lodged between his elbow and his side.

  Liked.

  They’re gone?

  Yes.

  There was half a container there this morning.

  Lunch.

  You ate half a container of cookies for lunch?

  Yes.

  It’s becoming very clear to me that you need a keeper, Redmond.

  Good thing no one could see him standing there in his backyard, grinning.

  Got two.

  Oh, yeah? Who?

  L.G. and you.

  Oh. Well, eat an apple, then.

  Don’t have any.

  They sell them at the cafeteria.

  You in class?

  Yes. Now let me pay attention before I miss something important.

  L.G. did both jobs.

  Give him two treats. And I’m glad you liked the cookies.

  He wanted to ask where she’d been the night before. But he knew better. He couldn’t have her thinking that what she did mattered to him in any kind of a personal way. Even if it did. She’d only get hurt in the end.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LORI AND MARISSA were friends again, having spent several hours at Dana’s Wednesday evening, after Dana returned from her trip to Phoenix with the pet-therapy club. That night the roommates had talked things over with Dana as mediator. It was Lindsey and Rebecca all over again.

  Except that Lori and Marissa were a lot more open-minded than her spoiled sisters were.

  Marissa had agreed to keep her boyfriend out of their suite. And Lori had admitted that she was jealous of Marissa’s new relationship, and had been acting snippy instead of being happy for her friend. They’d both cried. Apologized. And laughed until all three of them had tears in their eyes as they regaled Dana with stories from their childhood—like the summer they’d decided they were going to walk from Alaska to Argentina and couldn’t even manage the three miles to the bus station to find out the price of tickets to Alaska.

  After class on Thursday—a class she didn’t get as much out of as she should have because she’d broken her own rule and texted during the lecture—Dana had a call from Sharon, the widow who’d had the plumbing problem, inviting her to dinner. She’d accepted, but not without first wanting to refuse in case Josh Redmond called.

  He wasn’t going to call. He had his life. She had hers. And Little Guy was the only thing they had in common.

  With her emotions firmly under control, she stopped at Big Spirits, the senior citizen drop-in facility attached to Little Spirits, the day care where Lillie Henderson worked part-time, to chat with one of the female residents—a referral to the pet-therapy program.

  She saw Lillie’s car in the parking lot and decided to pop into the day care, as well. Jon Swartz, Lillie’s fiancé, was there picking up his son. Lillie was in the back with a preschooler whose father was terminally ill, and who was having adjustment problems in class. Lillie had told her about the child the previous afternoon when they’d shared a seat in the pet-therapy van.

  “So this is Abraham?” Dana said as she walked up behind her classmate.

  The two-year-old with dark hair that hung just above his big brown eyes stared at her from his perch on his father’s hip. And then smiled.

  “Oh, hi, Dana,” Jon said. “Yes, this is Abe. Abe, say hi to Daddy’s friend, Dana. She goes to school with Daddy.” He put his face right up to Abe’s as he spoke.

  “Hi,” Abe said, and gave her another grin.

  “Oh, my gosh, he’s adorable!”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty great.” Jon’s grin wasn’t the least bit apologetic. Dana’s heart constricted. A father who adored his child...it was meant to be that way. Not like Daniel...

  “...thanks to his ear tubes.” She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she’d missed most of what Jon had said.

  “Ear tubes?”

  “Abe was throwing some major tantrums,” Jon told her as the three of them stood in the empty waiting room. “I figured Lillie had mentioned all of that to you. It turned out Abe was going deaf.”

  Dana sucked in air so fast she almost choked. “He... I’m so sorry. I had no—”

  Shaking his head, Jon interrupted her. “He’s fine now. Almost. There’s still some fluid buildup that makes it a little hard for him to hear, but it won’t be long now before he’ll be hearing as well as the rest of us.”

  Lillie hadn’t said a word about Abe’s hearing problems the day before. They’d mostly talked about potential ways they could integrate pet therapy with supporting children who were going through trauma.

  “Lillie was really excited about the plans you two came up with yesterday,” Jon said. “And she told me about asking for your help in finding a particular Christmas present for this little man.”

  “She said you two moved in with her last weekend.”

  “That’s right. So if you find a you-know-what for him, we can take him anytime. The backyard is fenced and we have plenty of room in the house.”

  The way Jon’s face lit up as he talked about the you-know-what gave Dana the feeling that the puppy was as much for him as it was for his son.

  The three of them made a perfect little family—one any puppy would be lucky to join.

  Assuring Jon she’d do her best to find a you-know-what as quickly as possible, Dana asked him to give her regards to Lillie and left before envy could worm its way inside her.

  If she wanted a perfect little family of her own, she would have one. When the time was right.

  Until then, she had friends and school and volunteer work, a place of her own. And a dinner engagement she was going to be late for if she didn’t get her ass in gear.

  * * *

  JOSH HAD PLENTY TO DO. Accounts to familiarize himself with. Markets to analyze. He hadn’t gone so long without studying the market since he’d first become fascinated with Wall Street in high school.

  He smelled Dana’s flowery scent as soon as he walked in the door Thursday after work. He heated up the vegetable soup she’d left, wishing he had some fresh homemade bread to go with it. And some cookies left for dessert.

  He called his mother to assure her he was doing great and assure himself that she was fine, too. But he kept things brief. He wasn’t going to get into a discussion with her. Didn’t want to hear about life back home. And still hadn’t mentioned L.G.

  “I’m not going to be calling again for a while, Mother.” He’d been toying with the idea and knew it was the right one. But cutting that last tie...

  “You have to call, Joshua! All I have are your phone calls.”

  Watching L.G., who was twisted around, biting himself on the hip, or trying to, in between losing his balance and falling over, Josh weighed selfishness against saving self. He wasn’t going to be able to change until he left his old world behind.

  The basketball incident had shown him that. Give him something fa
miliar and it was all too easy to fall back into old habits. But this was his mother. She’d done nothing to deserve being cut off from her only child.

  “I’ll text,” he said. “Every day. And you text, too, so I know you and Father are well.”

  “But—”

  “Just for a while, Mom.”

  “Will you at least be home for Christmas?”

  L.G. was still biting himself, as if he had an itch or something. “I don’t think so. Not this year.”

  Her silence tore at him.

  “But we can Skype on Christmas Day.”

  “Are you happy, son?”

  A picture of Dana sprang to mind, laughing as he beat her at cribbage. Holding L.G. against breasts that were surprisingly full and nice, considering how thin the woman was.

  “Joshua? Your father tells me you’re still taking your inheritance draw every month, and I’m glad for that.”

  He’d told his parents about putting his trust in Michelle’s name for the duration of her life. But he hadn’t told them that his current inheritance income was also going into the trust.

  “I’m...adjusting,” he said. “I’m doing the right thing. And will be better for it,” he told her. His parents thought leaving Boston, his family and all of his friends was the extent of his sacrifice.

  There’d been no point in telling them the rest.

  “But you’ll be coming home? Eventually? Your father can’t work forever. He needs you here, ready to take over....”

  The rope tightened around his throat. He couldn’t listen anymore.

  She was right. He had a duty. But he was right, too.

  And was it so bad if Redmond Enterprises, a conglomeration of holdings that spanned the globe, liquidated at some point in the future? Was a legacy worth his soul?

  Or was this just more selfishness on his part? Was his sudden interest in being a better person sincere or was he just running away from that which was most unpleasant to him?

  The gossip. The whispers.

  “I need some time, Mother. We’ve already been through this.”

  He couldn’t make any promises for the future. Not until he figured out if he could trust himself not to live life as a selfish bastard.

  It hadn’t just been Michelle he’d callously hurt. Michelle’s sister had told him, during those long hours at the hospital, about the other women he’d hurt. The hearts he’d broken. He’d called those women.

  Her sister had been right.

  “Tell me about the family, Josh. What are they like? Do you—”

  “They’re good folks and you promised we wouldn’t do this, Mother. For now, this is my life.”

  “I’d hoped your relatives there would help you see that you’re a great man, just as you are. I’d hoped you’d see yourself through their eyes and realize that gossip is gossip and it fades away. What happened to Michelle was a horrible accident—tragic—but not your fault. You would never have left her if you’d had any idea she’d had so much to drink—”

  “You had a craniotomy and I didn’t bother to come home,” he interrupted her. “Should I tell the Shelter Valley Montfords about that?”

  “The surgery wasn’t dangerous, Joshua. A simple nerve procedure outside the brain. I was in the hospital two nights and then home and back to my normal routine.”

  He’d been told the procedure wasn’t dangerous and, too busy living it up in the French Riviera, hadn’t even asked what it was for. He’d barely remembered that she’d had it until they’d been sitting with Michelle’s parents in the hospital and one of Michelle’s neurologists happened to be the same doctor who’d performed his mother’s surgery.

  “He drilled a quarter-size hole in your skull and I didn’t even know.”

  “I was asleep. Didn’t feel a thing. Really, you’re making far more of this than necessary. You would’ve been there if I needed you.”

  He’d like to believe it, but he wasn’t sure. He probably wouldn’t have bothered cooling his heels at a hospital all day, not back then. The world had been full of things to do and he’d wanted to do all of them.

  “What about when Grandfather Montford had his heart attack?”

  “There was nothing you could do. Only your grandmother and I were allowed in to see him. And you were in the middle of your first trip to Italy.”

  He’d been twenty-one. A college graduate.

  “Father asked me to reconsider my position on that one,” he reminded her softly. His father’s way of telling him to come home. His mother had needed him.

  “You just aren’t good with medical situations, Joshua. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Had his mother been doing this his entire life? Making excuses for him?

  “I went mountain climbing instead of spending Christmas with our family and Michelle.”

  “You were soon to have a family of your own. When better to make the climb?”

  L.G. was chewing on his left hind paw now.

  “I forgot your fortieth anniversary party.” He’d been in town, buying drinks for a new client, celebrating the deal he’d just closed. And had completely forgotten about his parents’ shindig until the evening had been winding down.

  Because he hadn’t cared. If the party had mattered to him, he’d have remembered it.

  “I didn’t expect you to be there, Josh. The party was for our friends, not yours. You’d have been bored. Besides, you made it in time.” To tell everyone good night.

  “I have to go,” he said into the phone. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

  “I love you, son.”

  “I know, Mom. I love you, too. Say hello to Father.”

  The old man wasn’t speaking to Josh. Not since the day Josh told them he was leaving.

  He’d hoped for his father’s understanding but hadn’t expected it. And hadn’t gotten it, either.

  “I will. He misses you, Joshua.”

  In his way, he probably did.

  But his father’s way wasn’t Josh’s way. Not anymore.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SHE HADN’T EXPECTED Josh to call.

  He called. Just as she and Sharon were cleaning up after dinner.

  “Excuse me,” she said to Sharon, slipping out the older woman’s sliding-glass door as she took the call.

  “Is it normal for a dog to bite himself?” Josh’s voice had that urgency to it again.

  And still, it sounded so good.

  “If he has an itch he can’t scratch with his paws,” she said, thinking of him in his business suit.

  Did he still have on the tie he’d worn to work?

  “He’s biting all over. I hadn’t noticed it before now.”

  “I’m on my way,” she said.

  She didn’t give Josh a chance to tell her he didn’t need her to drive out. In case he would have tried. She hadn’t seen him in two days, and she missed him. And what did he know? He’d never owned a pet before.

  * * *

  “WHERE IS HE?”

  He’d barely had the door open twenty minutes later when Dana plowed past him with a canvas bag hanging from her shoulder, along with the leather satchel she used for a purse.

  “In his kennel. I didn’t know what else to do with him.”

  She went straight to the corner by the patio door where he kept L.G.’s kennel.

  “Come here, Little Guy,” she said, grabbing up the puppy as he darted out of his cage.

  “Are you sure you should hold him?” The dog obviously had a problem. He didn’t want Dana to catch something.

  “Of course! Worst case is he has fleas, which I doubt since they aren’t prevalent in this part of the desert, due to the lack of grass... Or it could be an allergy, which isn’t going to hurt anyone, but
him.” Holding the puppy up, she gave him a once-over and then sat down with him.

  “Have you fed him anything different?”

  “No.”

  She looked in the puppy’s eyes. Under his arms. On his belly, and then, with L.G. still on his back, glanced up at Josh. “You didn’t give him any cookies, did you?”

  “No.” But only because he hadn’t wanted to part with any of them. “Why?”

  “Chocolate is poisonous to dogs.”

  He’d almost inadvertently fed the dog poison. Probably would have if he hadn’t liked the cookies so much.

  “It’s unlikely that chocolate would have given him skin issues,” she said.

  Josh watched her part the dog’s fur with her long, slender fingers. And imagined them wrapping around his...

  “I’m pretty sure he’s just got dry skin,” she said.

  “What would cause that?”

  “Too many baths.”

  Oh. Not surprised that he’d caused it, Josh asked, “What do we do about it?” He would have preferred to stand there and think about sex. Physical intimacy was something he was good at.

  “See if he’ll eat some fruits and veggies,” she said.

  “I don’t have any.”

  “I do.” Handing him the puppy, she fetched the canvas bag she’d brought with her and pulled out some apples and carrots. “I stopped in at home on my way here,” she said, finding a sharp knife in a kitchen drawer, and slicing the apples. “Start with these,” she said, handing him a bag of ready-to-eat baby carrots. “See if he’ll eat them.”