A Promise of Forever

by Marilyn Pappano

  It slammed into the wall next to the door, and the next ring was a cartoonish little warble before it hit the floor and went silent. The slamming continued, though, raising the hair on Calvin’s neck, until he realized someone had chosen that moment to knock at his door.

  His normal response was to sit quiet, and they would go away. When he’d just destroyed a smartphone two inches from the door, anyone who continued knocking was either brave or foolish. Slowing his breathing, he took a few steps toward the door. It was probably the manager of the crappy apartments, or maybe the next-door neighbor. It couldn’t be a friend. He didn’t have any. Didn’t want any. Would never have any again.

  The knocking came again, then a voice. “Calvin? Calvin Sweet?”

  The voice sounded authoritative. Maybe a police officer. Had he given anyone cause to call the cops on him? He couldn’t honestly say no. Some mornings he couldn’t always remember everything that had gone on the night before. Sweat began to gather between his shoulders, rolling down his spine. He didn’t want any run-ins with cops, especially white ones. It could be bad for his career, to say nothing of his life.

  Two more steps brought him to the table beside the door. He didn’t notice the phone, and it skittered off the toe of his shoe to hit the wall again. Stealthily, he drew open the drawer, removed the Springfield XDM, and held the .45-caliber weapon in his right hand, along his side, tilted slightly back for maximum concealment.

  As another round of knocks started, he eased up to the peephole in the door. It wasn’t the manager or a neighbor or a police officer standing in the light of the bare bulb overhead in the corridor. It was worse.

  It was the damned chaplain.

  “Calvin, it’s Chaplain Reed. I know you’re here,” said a heavily Southern accented voice. “I saw you come in a few minutes ago. I know there’s no rear exit. I saw the shadows when you checked the peephole. Can I come in and talk with you?”

  If the chaplain left, it wouldn’t mean Calvin’s problem was solved. It just meant it would become official tomorrow. Maybe, if he cooperated right now, he could shut this down before it went anywhere.

  Silently, he returned the weapon to the drawer, then opened the door. The chaplain was leaning one shoulder against the door frame, looking comfortable, like he wasn’t leaving until he got what he wanted. Calvin made a gesture, then turned and went back to the sofa.

  Reed came in, giving the place a quick look. It wasn’t the sort of place Elizabeth ever would have imagined her boy living in. I’ve seen pigpens cleaner that this, he could hear her saying. What’s wrong with you, son?

  Everything. Everything in his whole damn life was wrong.

  The chaplain ignored the empty end of the sofa and dragged a wood chair from the dining table over to sit on. Once seated, he studied Calvin. “I got a call today. Miss Elizabeth is worried. Not answering her letters, not even picking up her calls anymore…”

  “How’d she find you?”

  “I’m in the phone book.” He shrugged, both hands turned palm up. “Mamas have resources, Captain. They are fearsome creatures.”

  Fearsome. Calvin couldn’t think of a better description of his mother. She was fierce and stern and demanding—even his father knew better than to cross her—but she’d shown him enough love for ten kids. She deserved better treatment than he’d given her. He just didn’t know anymore how to give it to her.

  He didn’t know how to make himself care enough to try.

  “She’s worried about you, Calvin.”

  “She’s got nothing to worry about, Chaplain.”

  Reed made a point of looking around the apartment, then at the broken phone. “Are you sure about that? Calvin, our troops lived better than this in the early days in Iraq. I bet none of your neighbors heard that phone break because if they’ve got jobs, they’re the kind that keep ’em out on the streets at night. I saw your vehicle out there. All of its windows are cracked, and two of ’em are completely gone. Just living here is something to worry about. Miss Elizabeth would ’bout have a heart attack if she knew.”

  Of course he was right. Calvin’s mother’s family had never had much; neither had his dad’s. But they’d been proud of what they’d had, and they took care of it. They might have been poor, but their kids, their houses, and their vehicles had been spotless and in good working order.

  Seeing Calvin living like this would rouse a lot of emotions in his parents: concern, fear, and—if he had no good reason to explain it—anger and shame. We raised you better than that, his father had told him the one and only time he got into trouble at school. It was true; they had. But this stuff going on now…

  “Is money an issue?”

  Calvin shook his head. He’d built a nice savings account while he was deployed and still added to it the first and fifteenth of every month. Little of his income went for living expenses.

  “No gambling? Drinking? Drugs?”

  Another shake of his head. Part of him wanted to demand Who the hell are you to be so damn nosy? His job performance hadn’t suffered. He wasn’t missing work or getting arrested or out raising hell in the strip clubs. What business was it of Chaplain Reed’s what he did on his time off?

  But this was the Army, and everything he did was pretty much their business.

  “No,” he said flatly. “None of that.”

  Reed glanced around again. There wasn’t much to see. No furniture that belonged to Calvin, no pictures on the walls, no souvenirs from his previous tours, no knickknacks, nothing personal. Just walls that might have been white twenty years ago, furniture that should have been lit on fire ten years ago, and emptiness.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “At JBLM? Fourteen months.”

  “You must have some buddies here.”

  Calvin shook his head. “I don’t have time for that.”

  “What keeps you so busy?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Reed leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I’ve been over your record, Calvin. You’ve been a rising star since basic. Every single evaluation report has been stellar. Despite your four rotations to the Middle East, you earned your college degree with a 3.98 grade point average. You’ve been an outstanding soldier, personable and well liked by everyone you worked for and everyone who worked for you. So what is this?” He indicated the apartment with another sweeping gaze.

  Calvin’s fingers tightened at his side. “Would it make you happier if I found a nicer place to live, Chaplain?”

  “No. It would make me happy if you’d seek help for what’s bothering you.”

  Seek help. No. No, no, and hell, no. Seek help meant see a doctor who would give him a referral to psychiatry. Psychiatry meant a diagnosis of posttraumatic stress disorder. Calvin was no fool. He knew that was the label they would hang on him, and that would likely mean the end of his career. It wasn’t much at this point, but it was all he had, and if he lost it…

  He stood, forcing a smile so foreign that it actually hurt. “I appreciate the visit, Chaplain, but I’m fine. I’ll find a better place to live. Hell, I’ll even go out to the club for a drink. And I’ll call my mama. I’m sorry she bothered you for nothing.” He said the last with an inward cringe. If Elizabeth ever suspected he’d apologized for something she’d done, she’d stand him at attention and chew his ass like a private.

  Reed wasn’t convinced by Calvin’s change in attitude, but he let him usher him to the door. There, he stopped and fixed his gaze on him. “My office is right down the hall from yours. Any time you want to stop by, the door’s open.”

  Calvin kept the smile on his face through sheer will until the door was closed and he was leaning against it. Heaving a sigh, he picked up his cell—busted—and swore. Now he’d have to talk to his mother and find a pay phone to do it.

  Chaplain was right, he thought as he dug his keys from his pocket. Mothers were fearsome creatures.

  * * *

  “Time for you to knock off, sweetheart,�
�� Beth said shortly after noon.

  “But I’ve still got a lot to do,” Avi’s father protested, and she poked him with her elbow.

  “Not you. Avi. You keep working until this project is finished. Avi, you come with me.”

  Obediently Avi straightened, stripped off her gloves, and stretched the kinks from her back. “See you later, Dad.” As she walked with her mother toward the car, she added in a low voice, “Thanks for rescuing me. I don’t know how he works like that.”

  “You and me both. Keeps him in fine shape, though, doesn’t it?” Beth cast him a lascivious look over her shoulder.

  Avi laughed. She didn’t want to watch her parents ogle each other like teenagers, but better that than to have them hardly notice each other’s existence. “Where are we going?”

  “To get Sundance a sister.”

  After starting the engine, Avi faced her wide-eyed. “I could never have one dog, but now you’re gonna have two?”

  “Your father and I are gone all day. Sundance gets lonely.”

  “Yeah, I bet she gets real lonely curled up on the couch with the ceiling fan blowing on her.”

  “Sundance doesn’t get on the furniture.”

  “Uh-huh,” Avi said in the same skeptical tone Ben had used upon hearing of the rigors of her work the day before. Maybe it hadn’t occurred to Beth: She could post her no-no notes all over the house, but unless Sundance learned to read, the pup was doing what she wanted. “Where are we getting this sister?”

  “From the animal shelter. I splurged on Sundance because your father had always wanted a purebred setter, but I don’t approve of buying dogs from breeders when there are so many in need of homes.”

  That was something new. Avi totally agreed with her, but she hadn’t supposed her mother had even thought about dogs in the fifteen years before acquiring the setter.

  Beth gave her directions to the shelter, located on the north edge of town. Given its purpose as a home for unwanted pets, it was a cheerful enough place. Dogs barked and played and snoozed in the outside enclosures, while cats appeared to rule the indoor office.

  They were greeted by two gorgeous blondes who introduced themselves as Angela and Meredith, owners of the shelter. Angela handled the day-to-day running, and Meredith provided veterinary services in her free hours from the clinic where she worked. They talked with Beth a bit about what she wanted, then headed through a door into a large room with kennels lined in neat rows. The ones against the outside walls opened into runs. The ones without openings were home to the newer, needier dogs who were still adjusting to the change in their circumstances. They hadn’t been cleared to mingle with the others, or they had behavioral issues.

  Of course, the first one to tug on Avi’s heart was included in that bunch. It was just some indefinable sadness in the black Lab’s eyes that brought her to her knees a safe distance from the kennel’s wire. “Look at this face, Mom.”

  Her mother looked, made an aw expression, then wrinkled her nose. “I really want another puppy, Av.”

  “Doesn’t everybody? But just look at everything”—she tilted her head back to read the sign at the top of the kennel—“Sadie can teach Sundance. And look at her little white chin hairs. They’re just like yours.”

  “Avery!” Beth exclaimed, instantly raising one hand to cover her chin as Angela and Meredith stifled their laughs. “I swear, you raise a perfectly nice child, send her out into the world, and she comes back talking about your chin hairs in public.”

  Footsteps sounded from the direction of the door going out into the runs. “I heard ‘Avery’ followed by a shriek and figured it had to be you.” Jessy Lawrence came around a stack of cages, wearing shorts and a tank top and smelling rather like the dogs. Sweat stuck her red hair to her forehead, and water and suds spotted her clothes.

  “You work here?” Avi grinned. “Lucky you.”

  “I am the luckiest woman in the world,” Jessy agreed. She knelt beside Avi while the other three moved on to look at puppies. “You trying to persuade your mom to adopt Sadie?”

  “She didn’t even want to look at her.”

  Jessy opened the gate, hooked a lead onto the dog’s collar, and drew her out to a corner of the room empty but for an old sofa and a few chairs. “A lot of people don’t want to adopt an older dog. Best guess, Sadie’s maybe nine, ten. People look at her and see that the best of her life is behind her. They think all that’s left is for her to get sick, maybe run up a lot of bills, and die. But they’re wrong.”

  Avi sat on the sofa. Sadie studied her a long time, standing unnaturally still, before taking a step toward her.

  “She’s a little timid. I think maybe she’s like a lot of us. She lost the only family she knew, and now she’s afraid to get close to someone new for fear they’ll leave her, too.” Jessy shrugged. “It can be hard trusting again. At least, it was for me.”

  Avi continued to watch the dog while considering what she knew about Jessy. Her husband had died a few years ago, and she’d had a tougher time than anyone realized. But just this year, she’d met and fallen in love with Dalton Smith, and she seemed not just happy but peaceful. “It was worth the effort, wasn’t it?”

  Jessy flashed a high-wattage smile. “Absolutely.”

  Sadie came still closer, until her head was bumped against Avi’s leg. After sniffing her carefully all over, Sadie lifted one foot onto the couch, then another, then levered herself up to sit next to Avi. She was warm and sweet and didn’t overwhelm by springboarding off a chair, the way Sundance would have done. Avi stroked her ribs, and Sadie’s legs slowly slid out from beneath her until her head rested on Avi’s lap and the scratching was on her belly.

  “So Sadie could have another two or three or five years in her,” Avi said.

  Jessy nodded. “None of us have expiration dates tattooed on. Just like you and me, she’ll live the time left her, and she’ll go when it’s time.”

  “What happens if no one adopts her because she’s too old?” The thought made Avi cringe inside, but it was something she needed to know.

  “We’re a no-kill shelter. We’ll find her a foster family or keep her here. She’ll be fed and petted and loved the rest of her life. It just won’t be the same as having a home with a mama.”

  Avi gazed at the dog who trusted her enough to close her eyes with a heavy sigh. She understood Beth not wanting to fall in love with an older dog who was doomed to die in the next few years. By choosing a puppy, she was increasing her odds of more fun and a lot longer time before the inevitable heartache.

  But Avi knew a lot about heartache. She knew she could survive it, for starters. Sadie could help her survive. Giving the dog a safe, happy, healthy place to spend the rest of her years would do some incredible healing for both of them.

  She raised her gaze to Jessy’s. “I’m moving to Georgia on Saturday, and in exchange for a hefty deposit, I can have a pet. Can I adopt her?”

  Jessy studied her a long time. “I hope so. I’ll put in my two cents’ worth on your behalf.”

  And that was how, on her way to Tulsa later that afternoon, Avi stopped at the shelter to pick up a beautiful, bathed, groomed, and newly microchipped tennish-year-old best friend who loved riding shotgun in a classic red ’65 Mustang convertible roaring down the road.

  Oh, and Sundance got a sister, too, a cute, cuddly mixed beagle whose ears were longer than her legs, whom Beth was determined would answer to the name of Nyla. Sundance was adorable. Nyla was cute.

  But Sadie ruled.

  * * *

  Ben let himself into the loft that evening, his mood lighter than it had been since Sunday. He’d missed sleeping with Avi Sunday night—not the sex, though that was damn good, but being able to reach out and touch her, hold her, feel her, and hear her heart beating. He’d missed it even more Monday night. Tonight, even if all they did was share space, it would be enough.

  He closed the door behind him and kicked off his shoes nearby. Avi’s purse was on the dinin
g table, her flip-flops next to the sofa. She’d left a Sonic cup on the coffee table, and a dog—

  He stopped abruptly. There was a dog on his couch, watching him with sleepy eyes. He/she/it was significantly bigger than Sundance, and significantly blacker, and he—it looked a lot warier. “Avi?” he called.

  “Yeah?” she replied from the bedroom. The dog jumped at the sound of her voice, ran down the hall, and skidded around the corner. By the time Ben made the same trip, with a little more grace, he hoped, the dog was standing behind Avi, face pressed between her knees to peer at him. “Doc, you scared my pupper. Sadie, it’s okay, baby. This is Ben. He’s my sweetie, and this is his house, so suck up to him, huh? Shake hands.”

  Faintly trembling, the dog slithered out from behind her and offered her right paw. Ben felt foolish, but if it pleased the girl in his life, he would please the girl in her life. “Hey, Sadie,” he said softly, taking her paw gently. After a moment, he slid to the floor and ran his hand along her spine, from neck to tail, giving a gentle massage along the way. She sank onto her belly in front of him, rested her chin on his foot, and lay still so he could do it again.

  “How old is she?”

  Avi sat down, too, the bed at her back. “Nine or ten.”

  “Shouldn’t she be at home with the family who’s raised her this long?”

  “If they were decent people. One of Dalton’s neighbors saw someone dump her on a country road. She chased them until she couldn’t run any more. When he went looking for her, he found her exhausted by the road, so he took her to Jessy, who took her to the shelter, where most people don’t want older dogs.”

  Something warm and sweet twinged inside Ben. “Avi Grant, of course, isn’t most people.”

  “I couldn’t walk away from that face. She’s scared, she’s been abandoned, and she doesn’t know why. I can make her feel safe and loved again. How incredible is that?”