The Way Back to Erin

by Cerella Sechrist

“What? No. That’s going to cost a fortune.”

  Now that the dog had given in and decided Burke was trustworthy, he was much friendlier. He kept pushing his head against Burke’s palm, demanding he keep scratching his ears. Erin had moved a little closer to speak to him, but she was still holding on to Kitt to keep him from going near the dog.

  “I’ll cover it. Don’t worry.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “You just...can’t.”

  He steeled himself before looking up at her this time. She was frowning.

  “Kitt, go to Aunt Lenora.”

  Kitt didn’t, but he backed away, looking wistfully at the dog. Erin waited until he was out of earshot to speak again.

  “I don’t want Kitt getting attached if...if this dog already has an owner or he needs put down or something.”

  Burke understood her reasoning, but he didn’t feel right about letting the dog go to a shelter, especially not in his current condition. “We’re just driving him to the animal clinic, we’re not picking out names and buying him toys or anything.”

  Erin’s lips flattened to a thin line, and she folded her arms across her torso. He didn’t need to be a body language expert to know that her posture screamed anger.

  “Come on, Erin. Don’t you remember the time we found that stray cat with all those kittens? You insisted that rather than turning them over to the SPCA or somewhere, that we find homes for them. We spent the better part of a weekend going door to door, trying to give away cats. It convinced me you could have had a job in sales if you wanted one.”

  Her lip twitched, but it was barely discernible.

  “That was different.”

  “Not that much different.”

  “Mom!” Kitt’s voice came to them from the porch where he stood at Aunt Lenora’s side. “Are we going to keep him?”

  Erin’s exasperation was obvious. “Fine. But it’s up to you, Burke, to get him in the car. In the very back, away from Kitt.”

  “You don’t have to go along. I can handle it myself.”

  “I don’t want to see Kitt moping around here while you’re off playing animal rescue. And if Kitt’s going, then I’m going.”

  She stomped off with steam practically puffing out of her ears. Burke looked back at the dog.

  “Don’t worry. Her bark is worse than her bite.”

  * * *

  THE WAITING ROOM at the animal emergency clinic wasn’t too busy, which Erin was grateful for. She didn’t relish the idea of spending hours waiting to hear an update on the retriever, especially with Kitt asking so many questions. Although, in truth, every time he spoke up, her heart gave a little tug of joy. She hadn’t seen him this animated since before his dad’s death. It was a relief to consider he might finally be emerging from his grief.

  Her eyes wandered from her son to Burke, who was leaning down, answering Kitt’s question about whether the dog would have to get any shots. Burke’s brown hair fell over his forehead, threads of burnished gold shining in the strands from hours spent in the sunshine.

  Her fingers itched to reach out and brush the hair back. Gavin’s hair had always been trimmed short, thanks to his army career, but Burke had always worn his just a little bit longer. She privately preferred the way Burke’s hair framed his features, but it was a minor detail. Both Daniels brothers had been able to turn heads in high school, and looking at Burke now, Erin imagined Burke had continued to do plenty of head-turning over the last fifteen years.

  He’d been in contact so rarely, and mostly with Gavin, that she had no idea what sort of relationships he’d had since high school. There was Tessa, of course, but beyond that, Erin didn’t know if he’d fallen in love at any point while he’d been gone. The idea was like a vise around her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. It shouldn’t matter how many relationships Burke had had over the years.

  It didn’t matter, she reminded herself. That was his business, a part of his life she was not privy to. Her fingers began to tremble, as though they might reach out and touch him of their own free will. Erin clenched them tightly in her lap.

  “Mr....Daniels?”

  All three of them turned at the sound of Burke’s name. A middle-aged woman in a white lab coat stood in the doorway of the waiting room. “I’m Dr. Harris. Why don’t you come on back?”

  As soon as they entered the examination room and the retriever got sight of them, his tail began to wag, creating a swishing sound as it slid over the stainless steel table he laid on.

  “Hey, buddy,” Burke greeted, and the dog’s tail moved even faster. “Feeling better?”

  Kitt edged forward as Burke went up to the dog and gave him a scratch behind the ears. Erin stubbornly held her ground but didn’t reach out to pull Kitt back—the dog didn’t appear in the least bit dangerous now. It was clear it had been frightened earlier. Besides, she was curious to see just how far her son’s bravery extended. She still marveled at how far he’d come since Burke had started living at the Moontide.

  “Good news. Our films confirmed the leg isn’t broken,” Dr. Harris said as she flicked off the lights and moved to stand before a light board that displayed a set of radiography films.

  “You can see that the bone is entirely intact with no fractures.” She pointed a pen along a glowing line of bone. “But there is evidence of previous breaks, as you can see here...and here.”

  Erin frowned. “Is that why he’s limping? Was there permanent damage?”

  Dr. Harris turned the lights back on as she shook her head. “No, he was limping due to an issue with his paw. All of his paws are cut up pretty badly, but especially the left front one—it’s scraped raw. It’s difficult to tell how long he’s been out on his own, but it appears as though it’s been some time. He’s undernourished and dehydrated.”

  Erin felt a tug of sympathy and a touch of guilt for how she’d reacted to the animal earlier. Under Burke’s watchful eye, Kitt had edged his way closer to the dog and was now cautiously running his hand along the animal’s side. The retriever shifted a little to give Kitt better access to his belly.

  Dr. Harris checked her clipboard. “It’s my understanding that you’ve agreed to assume all medical costs for the dog, Mr. Daniels, is that correct?”

  Burke nodded. “I already gave my credit card information to your office staff.”

  “Well, we’d like to keep the dog here overnight in the clinic for observation, but then there’s also the matter of ownership. The dog isn’t chipped, and you found no identification on him, as I understand.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “There’s a three-day holding period while we attempt to find the owners, but as it stands, I think this poor guy was probably abandoned. I doubt there will be anyone to claim him. Still, the law requires us to try.”

  “Of course. I understand.”

  “Then am I correct to assume you and your wife—” she glanced in Erin’s direction “—will be adopting this dog, provided no one steps forward to assume ownership?”

  Erin froze at the vet’s assumption, her eyes sliding toward Burke. Other than a slight stiffening of his shoulders, he didn’t appear in the least disturbed by Dr. Harris’s mistake. But he didn’t correct her either.

  “We’ll need to discuss it.”

  “We’re not married,” she put in, irritated by the thrill she experienced just at the thought of her and Burke as husband and wife. That was ridiculous. Hadn’t she already realized how wrong that would be? She had to stop reacting like a lovesick teenager.

  “Oh.” Dr. Harris looked from Burke to her, eyebrows raised. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  “It’s okay.” Burke tried to brush away the awkwardness, but inside, Erin fumed.

  Why did she have to step in and be the one to make things awkward? Why couldn’t Burke h
ave just told the vet they weren’t a couple? She knew some of her irritation was irrational, but she couldn’t help herself. She took out her frustration by snapping, “We’re not keeping the dog.”

  He looked at her. “As I said, we’ll need to discuss it.” His voice was calm, but his eyes had narrowed slightly.

  “We’re getting a dog!” Kitt crowed.

  Dr. Harris cleared her throat. “Well, there’s still the matter of whether an owner claims him.”

  It was a gentle reminder to Kitt, but her son wasn’t deterred.

  “They won’t,” he assured. “He’s going to be ours.”

  “See?” Erin’s focus shifted to Burke, her anger flaring. “This is what I meant when I said we should let animal control handle it.”

  “Erin—”

  “I told you.” She felt tears of resentment and frustration rise. “I told you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  She shook her head, embarrassed to be losing her cool in front of a stranger but more worried about Kitt. He’d experienced enough loss for one so young. And now he’d already laid claim to an animal that she absolutely could not let him keep.

  “Maybe I’ll give you a minute,” Dr. Harris suggested as she edged toward the door.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Erin said. “Kitt and I will wait in the car.”

  She reached for her son’s hand, but he jerked back. “Not yet! I need to say goodbye to Scout.”

  Scout? He’d already attached a name to the creature, and to make it all the worse, it was a name she recognized. Scout was the dog in a book that Gavin used to read to Kitt, during their intermittent Skype sessions while he was deployed. A hollow ache ballooned in her stomach.

  “Kitt,” she breathed, but her son was nuzzling the dog, who was cheerfully licking his cheek, any doubts about them obviously having vanished.

  “See ya later, Scout. I hope you feel better real soon so we can take you home!”

  Erin couldn’t bear any more. She grabbed Kitt’s hand and tugged him toward the door. The action didn’t seem to faze him. He went willingly but used his free hand to wave goodbye to his newfound friend.

  Before she exited the room, she cast one final, dark look in Burke’s direction.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Erin woke even earlier than usual to prepare the breakfast items for the inn’s guests. She sliced strawberries and layered them along with blueberries and her homemade vanilla cream into parfait glasses before putting them in the fridge to chill. Next she started on the bacon and gruyere quiche with rosemary oven-roasted potatoes.

  Typically, she would serve these with her standard assortment of baked goods, such as raspberry muffins, chocolate chip scones and sourdough toast. But with Mr. Atwell’s condition, she swapped out the usual pastries for gluten-free almond coffee cake and peach streusel. There would also be sausage links and sliced ham, along with a variety beverages: coffee, tea and juices. Whether she was serving two or twenty, Erin always tried to provide quality breakfasts.

  She focused on her work, using it as a means to ignore everything that had occurred in the past forty-eight hours, from Burke’s kiss to Mrs. Cleary’s subtle disapproval to the incident with Scout. Or rather, that dog, she mentally corrected, not ready to adopt a name for the animal as easily as Kitt had.

  The inn’s current guests had informed her they’d be rising early in order to get a head start on their last day in town, so Erin made sure the table was laid and breakfast was served by 7:00 a.m. After explaining the breakfast offerings, she left them to enjoy their meal in private, checking in occasionally to see if anything was needed and spending the interim fiddling in the kitchen and trying not to grow impatient for them to finish up. As soon as they were done (and with another request for recipes from Mrs. Atwell), Erin made short work of clearing the table and storing the leftovers. She left the dishes in the sink with plans to wash them later, wrote a note on the chalkboard by the fridge for the rest of the household as to where to find breakfast and then hurried out the door in order to visit the lighthouse.

  She was particularly eager to talk to Gavin this week, which is why she’d been determined to leave the house earlier than usual for her Sunday conversation with him. She was rewarded with utter solitude—there wasn’t another soul in sight as she took her seat on the bench within view of the lighthouse and savored the morning air, blessedly mild since the sun hadn’t been up for more than a few hours. This Sunday morning at the lighthouse, her feelings were even more conflicted than the last time she’d sat here.

  “It’s been strange,” she spoke aloud. “with Burke living at the Moontide.” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe the difference in Kitt, having Burke there. Maybe no one else would even see it, Gavin, but I do. I’ve been so worried about him for so long that every little smile or laugh is something I cherish.” She quirked her lips. “He’s started to mimic Burke in these tiny ways. Like the way Burke cuts his food or how he scratches his temple when he starts to get tired. And he has this way of—”

  She suddenly stopped, feeling a flood of guilt. Just how much attention had she been paying to Burke to have recognized all his little tics? She cleared her throat. It was because of Kitt. She wouldn’t have picked up on any of this if she hadn’t been so aware of how Kitt imitated his uncle.

  Still, she didn’t feel quite comfortable detailing the rest of her observations to Gavin, especially after what had occurred Friday night. So she shifted the direction of the one-way conversation.

  “I hope it means he’s finally turning the corner of his grief and coming out of his shell. He’s had a hard time, Gavin, without you.” This truth caused her to blink back tears. “He didn’t get enough time with you before you were gone. I wish you had quit before your last deployment. At least he would have a few more months, a few more memories. So much of what he remembers about you comes from what I or Aunt Lenora have told him or from home videos or photos. I’m not sure how much of his grief is from what he remembers of you or what he thinks he remembers of you.”

  She expelled a breath. “But I guess it doesn’t matter. His grief is real, no matter how many of his memories are.” She clenched her jaw. “I know you were working toward a better life for us, but I would give just about anything to trade every second you spent away and have had all that time with you, me and Kitt together.”

  For the first time, she allowed a little bit of anger to leak through her sadness.

  “You should have quit sooner, like we talked about. You should have been here, Gavin, to see your son growing up. If you’d been here instead of heading back to the base, then maybe you’d still be here...and our son wouldn’t be forced to consider his uncle as a replacement for his dad.”

  She bit her lip then as the shame flooded in. Was it really Kitt that was thinking that way, putting Burke in the place that should have been filled by Gavin?

  Or was she the one viewing Burke in that light?

  She swallowed. “I miss you. But you were gone so much of the time that it’s hard to separate my grief from my regret. We spent so much of our marriage apart, and I don’t know who to blame for that. Should I have begged you to stay? Or would that only have driven a wedge between us?” She released a sigh. She didn’t like dwelling on these questions. It made her feel disloyal somehow. But somehow, death had made it easier to be angry at Gavin, and at times, that anger was all that kept her from breaking down in tears.

  “So Burke rescued this dog.” She latched on to the first topic at hand, even if it was a sore subject. “It scared me to death, at first. It just stumbled into the backyard, and Kitt—” She broke off, not wanting to relive the terror of those moments when she feared her son was in danger.

  “Burke came in like some kind of knight in shining armor. He put himself between us and the dog. And it turns out, the poor thing was just scared. But Burke didn’t know that,
not at first.” She grew thoughtful. “He put himself in harm’s way for us.”

  The realization made her heart ache anew. She couldn’t speak the words aloud, couldn’t unload her guilt and longing while she was hampered by the idea of being disloyal to her husband. But the awareness stayed with her—that Burke had protected them without a second thought. By reflex. It might have been something he’d have done for anyone...but it hadn’t been just anyone. He’d done it for them, for her and Kitt.

  “Well, anyway. Now I think he plans to adopt the dog, even though I made it clear it’s probably a bad idea. I’m afraid Kitt will get attached, and what happens if we can’t keep it?”

  She saw another couple approaching the lighthouse, her solitude about to be interrupted. She was suddenly overcome with the urge to tell Gavin everything—her and Burke’s kiss, Mrs. Cleary’s comments and her own fears that she had somehow failed him. But the other couple had drawn near enough that they would now hear any words she spoke aloud.

  By the time they’d moved on, she’d lost her nerve. “Anyway, I better get back.” She stood up. “But I’ll come again next week.”

  She’d been coming to the lighthouse for so long, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d failed to visit. Maybe Gavin didn’t need her to come, maybe he wasn’t even listening. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that his spirit, his soul, whatever part of him still existed, met her here each Sunday.

  And as long as she believed that, she’d never stop coming.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BURKE RECEIVED A call from the animal clinic on Monday morning to let him know that Scout was much improved. The dog was eating and drinking well and had even begun moving around, putting more weight on his front left leg. They’d found no matches in their systems for a missing dog of Scout’s description, and if no one claimed him within the next twenty-four hours, he could be released into the adoption program or into Burke’s care.

  Burke didn’t hesitate. He told them he’d come for Scout as soon as they would let him. It was only after he hung up the phone that he considered how he was going to broach the subject with Erin. He’d already mentioned adopting the dog to Aunt Lenora over the weekend. She’d been skeptical but was willing to let him bring the dog home and give things a try.