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Table of Contents
Cover
Synopsis
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other Books by Genevieve Fortin
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bella Books
Synopsis
Newly retired and ready to reconnect with herself, Joyce Allen realizes that she’s not yet the person she knows she was meant to be. At the age of 56, she’s committed to discovering happiness and begins her new journey by taking classes, attending concerts, and adopting the dog she has secretly wished for, Dingo.
When Dingo is injured and a visit to the new veterinarian in town is necessary, Joyce finds herself quietly attracted to Dr. Amanda Carter, the intellectual dreamer who is many years her junior.
Joyce knows that their age difference is too big an obstacle to overcome, and is content to settle for friendship with the thirty-two-year-old vet. But Amanda, for her part, can’t see the gaping divide between them. All she knows is the warmth and attraction she feels for Joyce, and can’t understand why age should matter at all.
Copyright © 2018 by Genevieve Fortin
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
First Bella Books Edition 2018
eBook released 2018
Editor: Medora MacDougall
Cover Designer: Judith Fellows
ISBN: 978-1-59493-588-6
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Other Bella Books by Genevieve Fortin
First Fall
Two Kinds of Elizabeth
Water’s Edge
Acknowledgments
They say you can find inspiration anywhere. I believe it now more than ever. When our little dog Spike injured his leg while playing in the yard with our larger dog Betty, I didn’t immediately think the incident would inspire a novel. But it did. It was after two or three appointments at the veterinarian clinic that I realized the twelve-week timeframe his recovery would take might be an interesting setting for a romance novel. I’m glad I did. It gave me a chance to turn an adventure that could have been nothing but sad, stressful, and oh so costly, into something much more positive and inspiring. So the first thank-you goes to our dogs.
The second goes to the wonderful Medora MacDougall, who worked hard to make my book better, hacking down hundred of “justs” and other useless words until we were left with a much lighter, enjoyable read. It was great working with you again and I hope it won’t be the last time.
I also want to thank Linda and the entire Bella Books team, for their constant support and encouragement. Thank you for working with me through my insecurities and multiple questions.
A very special thank-you goes to the young Maine artist who painted the injured Dingo used on the book cover. Zoe Walker is just seventeen years old but her talent goes well beyond her years. She’s one to watch! I sure will keep following her and can’t wait to see what she’ll paint next.
I also want to thank Denise, my partner, who never misses a chance to remind me when it’s time to write. Your support means the world to me, always.
Last but not least, thank you, dear readers. The fact that you choose my books among so many others will never be taken for granted. I write for you—and for me, of course.
About the Author
Genevieve is French Canadian but claims her heart holds dual citizenship. Not surprising since she lived in the USA for thirteen years and still visits every chance she gets. Besides writing and reading, her passions include traveling, decadent desserts, fruity martinis, and watching HGTV. For now she lives in St-Georges, just a few miles north of the border between Maine and Quebec. She and her partner share a house with their two dogs, Spike and Betty.
Dedication
For Denise, in memory of the first Tanzania Raspberry chocolate truffle we shared.
Chapter One
“If making this drive every day doesn’t show you I love you, I don’t know what will,” Joyce Allen said to her basenji, squinting at him through the rearview mirror of her Subaru Forester. Safely anchored to the backseat with his harness and seat belt, Dingo cocked his head at his owner in reply. Joyce grinned at the familiar, quizzical expression the wrinkles on his forehead created.
She often complained about having to drive across town to the Bangor dog park while her own house was located right next to another of the city’s multiple green spaces. Unfortunately, Saxl Park didn’t have an enclosed area dedicated to dogs, and letting Dingo run free without physical boundaries to keep him from chasing after any squirrel, cat, or inanimate object blown by the wind was a sport Joyce had quickly learned she didn’t enjoy at all. He was a talented little escape artist and she was not quite as talented at catching him. Seeing him run freely and play with other dogs within the security of a fenced-in park, however, was an enjoyable sight. And it was well worth the drive. She would never admit it to Dingo, of course.
“I hope you remember this tonight when I want to sleep and you’d rather practice your vocalization exercises. You’ll never make the Met, you know. So give it up, little brat. Will you?”
Like all basenjis, Dingo didn’t bark but made a whiny yodel that Joyce found amusing and charming—until eleven at night. At that time Joyce wished her furry companion came with an “off” button, but instead that was the exact time his yodel got louder and more annoying. After a year of sharing her home and life with the red and white little beast, howe
ver, their sleeping time was the only matter Joyce and Dingo didn’t agree on. The rest of their days went by in almost perfect harmony.
Joyce turned right on Watchmaker Street, parked in front of the familiar three fenced-in areas and turned the rearview mirror so she could retouch her makeup. She wished she didn’t need to worry so much about her appearance when she went to the dog park. Of all places, the park should have been the haven where she could wear yoga pants and an old sweatshirt without worrying about being judged, she mused with frustration. But experience had taught her that her sister’s snooty friends or those of her late wife were everywhere in Bangor. And they all knew each other. Joyce wished she didn’t care what they might or might not say about her, but she did.
Of course, Evelyn’s friends had been her friends too until Evelyn was taken away by a brain tumor three years ago, but their friendship with Joyce had faded after Evelyn’s death. Joyce had been saddened by their distant disposition at first, when she most needed them, but now she didn’t miss them and she wished she wouldn’t have to worry about meeting them every time she left the house.
Joyce used her fingertips to fluff her thick silver hair, cut above her shoulders, and granted herself a satisfied smile. She’d quit coloring her hair during the eighteen-month depression she’d sunk into after she’d lost Evelyn and she’d never started again. Her silver hair had a bright, lustrous quality that was the envy of women her age and made her look more elegant and sophisticated rather than older.
The last mirror check was directed to the light blue silk scarf around her neck and she twitched it into place, making sure it covered the delicate, crepe-cotton skin of her neck. Scarves were part of her signature look, fashionable yes, but chosen more for their function. At fifty-six, she didn’t mind wearing a sleeveless top that left her yoga-toned arms exposed. But she would never be caught without a scarf around her neck, even in the heat of July. Satisfied with her appearance at last, she got out of her car, grabbed her purse, and opened the back door to clip Dingo’s leash to his collar. Even the short distance between the car and the gate to the park, maybe twenty feet, was too risky not to use a leash on him. The dog started walking proudly by her side, his tail tightly curled on his back.
Together they entered the park for dogs weighing twenty-five pounds or more and as soon as she closed the gate behind them, she unclipped his leash and laughed as she watched him take off like a space rocket. He ran around the park twice, as fast as he could, before he finally went to greet Slipper, a Bernese mountain dog he often played with. Dingo barely made the twenty-five pound minimum for this particular enclosed area, but he’d never seemed intimidated by much larger dogs like Slipper.
Joyce greeted Slipper’s owner, Mr. Davis, with a polite nod. He was a tall and massive middle-aged man who seemed friendly enough but kept to himself. Joyce was grateful he and his dog were the only souls in sight at nine a.m. on this beautiful Friday morning. She wasn’t in the mood to socialize. She took a deep breath of the warm air which she knew would become suffocating in a few hours and walked to the bench nearby where she spent most of her time while Dingo ran and played to his heart’s content.
Joyce sat down and reached into her large purse to grab the book she was currently reading, My Brilliant Career by Miles Franklin. It was the story of a young woman in 1890s rural Australia and she was enthralled by it. When her love for reading had finally been revived after her depression, she’d focused on books set in Australia. She’d been drawn to the country down under ever since she’d read The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough as a teenager. She’d fantasized about living on the large sheep station with Meggie Cleary, the beautiful girl with red-gold hair. Joyce’s recovery from depression had been greatly helped by rekindling old dreams she’d forgotten during her twenty-eight-year relationship with Evelyn. Old dreams like visiting Australia, a trip that was now on her bucket list and that she planned on making sooner rather than later.
When she’d decided to get a dog, she’d researched breeds over the Internet until she’d seen a picture of a basenji. The dog’s red and white hair, its large erect ears, and its inquisitive expression had reminded her of a miniature version of a dingo, the infamous wild dog found in Australian deserts and grasslands. She’d fallen in love with that picture and had decided there and then that the basenji was the right breed for her. Of course she’d learned later while researching breeders that basenjis came from Africa and didn’t have anything in common with dingoes, but that didn’t keep her from finding and adopting her own little Dingo.
Joyce had read two pages of her book when she heard a screeching yelp she recognized as Dingo’s. The loud, high-pitched sound was followed by a deep and panicked, “Oh my god.” Joyce looked up and saw Dingo on the ground. Mr. Davis was on his knees by his side. Her heart briefly stopped at the sight before it started racing. She dropped her book on the bench and ran to Dingo’s side.
She didn’t have time to ask what had happened before Mr. Davis recounted the entire event in a trembling voice. “They were just running and playing like they usually do. Then Dingo stopped for some reason and Slipper ran over him. I think he ran right up Dingo’s back leg. Poor dog. I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It was obviously an accident. I know Slipper wouldn’t hurt Dingo on purpose.” Joyce’s statement was meant to appease Mr. Davis, but her own throat tightened as she caressed Dingo’s side and she knew her facial expression didn’t match her reassuring words. She was beyond scared.
“Can you get up, little brat?” she asked Dingo in a low, soothing voice as she clicked her fingers together over his head, inviting him to stand up. He got on his feet, but immediately lifted his left back leg and kept it bent against his belly, refusing to put any weight on it. “Something’s wrong with your leg, huh?” She started rubbing and manipulating his entire body, starting with his neck. Nothing seemed to hurt until she attempted to stretch his left back leg and Dingo snapped at her before he whimpered faintly. She jerked her hand out of his reach. He’d never snapped at anybody before. “That hurts, doesn’t it?”
“I think you better take him to the vet,” Mr. Davis said with grief. “I’ll pay the bill. Anything he needs.”
“Nonsense. It’s not your fault. I won’t accept your money, but I think you’re right about the vet.” Joyce started gathering Dingo in her arms, but Mr. Davis stopped her.
“Let me. I’ll take him to your car for you.”
Joyce knew she was perfectly able to carry her own dog, but Mr. Davis needed to help in some way so she let him carry Dingo. As she moved to stand up, she felt a wet tongue on her cheek and turned to face Slipper, who looked as sorry as his owner was. “Don’t worry, Slipper. It’s not your fault you’re such a big boy. Dingo will be fine.” She petted Slipper’s head and stopped by the bench to gather her book and purse before she followed Mr. Davis and Dingo to her car.
Alone in her vehicle with Dingo sitting and whimpering in the backseat, Joyce didn’t have anyone left to reassure about his condition except herself, but she was much less successful than she’d been with Mr. Davis and Slipper. She kept glancing at him through the rearview mirror. The wrinkles on his forehead that usually made him look curious made him appear so sad now. It was heartbreaking. She could hardly breathe as panic settled in and caused her airways to tighten up. What if his leg was broken beyond repair? Worse, what if he had internal injuries Joyce couldn’t see? Slipper had to weigh over a hundred pounds. If he’d run on Dingo’s body he might have caused a lot of damage. Maybe Mr. Davis hadn’t seen everything. Joyce couldn’t lose Dingo.
Joyce had grown up in a house where dogs were part of the family and she’d always thought she’d have a dog of her own as an adult. Evelyn had never wanted a dog. She’d met Evelyn not long after she’d started working at the Bangor Savings Bank, and they’d started to live together shortly after. Evelyn didn’t have allergies, but she didn’t want animals in her home. She claimed they were too messy in
a house and made traveling too complicated. They’d have to find a sitter before they went anywhere overnight. Hell, even if they simply went out to dinner they’d have to be back at a certain time to walk and feed the dog. It was a responsibility Evelyn didn’t want to take on. Joyce had argued at first but finally had given up. She’d almost forgotten about her need for canine companionship until she’d come out of her depression. She’d realized that owning a dog was another dream she’d put aside during their relationship. She’d fulfilled the first of those dreams when she’d adopted Dingo.
Joyce took another look at Dingo, leaning on his right side to protect his injured leg. She smiled at him as tears threatened her vision and focused back on the road.
Evelyn Graham had been a wonderful life partner. She was kind, generous, ambitious, and Joyce had been happy with her. Evelyn Graham was also a born leader. She’d taken the lead in every single aspect of her life and it had been natural for her to take the reins in their relationship as well. Joyce, easy-going by nature, had let her make all the important decisions and she didn’t regret it. Evelyn’s decisions had been wise and had allowed them to build a comfortable life as a couple. They’d worked together at the Bangor Savings Bank, climbing the corporate ladder until Joyce became marketing director and Evelyn a VP of finance. They had a beautiful home in a sought-after neighborhood where they often entertained their friends. Joyce had indeed been happy with Evelyn. She’d been lost when she’d passed away.
Then, slowly, the dark veil that Evelyn’s death had thrown over Joyce’s life had started to rise, and she’d realized she couldn’t keep being Evelyn’s Joyce. That Joyce had existed within the confinement of their life as a couple, but she couldn’t exist anymore. She had the conviction that her essence had been buried deep inside her during those twenty-eight years. She wasn’t sure how or when it had happened, but she knew it had.
Dingo's Recovery Page 1
