Had that changed?
She slid another glance his way, but couldn’t read his expression. For some reason, she felt compelled to explain. “A couple of days ago, Tommy blew up over a lost toy. Not the parachute guy, but another one. And he started crying, saying that everything he loves gets stolen or lost or broken. I knew he was talking about more than just the toy.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I brought up his father, planning to explain—again—that the divorce had nothing to do with him at all, but he just stomped out of the room and slammed the front door. I probably should have gone after him, but I was feeling so helpless when it came to knowing what to say and how to deal with his pain and anger, that I fell apart and started crying. All I could do was pray. I heard the front door open again, and some footsteps in the hall. They paused for a moment or two, then continued on to his bedroom. I suspect he might have heard the desperation in my sobs, but if so, he never mentioned it.”
“If he’s like most males I know, he probably didn’t know what to say to a woman in tears so he chose to keep quiet.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Does his father see him and his sister very often?”
“No.” And now, since she’d moved to Fairbrook, Jared would see them even less. But she’d needed the distance, even if the kids didn’t. She’d gotten tired of running into friends they’d had as a couple, people who were uncomfortable with the situation and didn’t know what to say to her anymore.
Sometimes, she’d spot one of them at the market, and they’d either hem and haw, opt to study something on the shelves to keep from addressing her, or make a quick U-turn and take their cart down another aisle.
Bottom line, though? She’d also come home to lick her wounds. But Mac didn’t need to know any of that.
Silence stretched between them like a frayed rubber band, ready to snap in two.
Then he turned ever so slightly, his knee grazing her leg, his gaze locking in on hers. “Your husband was a fool to ever let you go.”
The sincerity in his eyes and the kindness of his words were a balm to her bruised ego, and she clung to them as long as she dared.
If more time had passed, if she were even ten pounds lighter…If they were teenagers again and could start all over…
But there were way too many ifs, too many memories and emotions balling together in her chest that made her want to get this conversation headed in another direction.
Yet it wasn’t memories of Jared that caused her uneasiness. It was the memories of Mac, of what they’d once had. Of what she’d given up.
She needed to change the subject, to break eye contact, but his penetrating gaze wasn’t letting up.
Fortunately, her daughter came to the rescue, her little arm extended with a pink, gooey, strawberry mess. “Mommy, can you please hold my ice cream for me?”
As Jillian’s fingers stuck to the soggy paper cover, which already bore traces of sand, she scrunched her face, then opened her mouth to object. But Megan was already heading back to the playground.
“That doesn’t look too appetizing,” Mac said.
“You’re right. I’ll hold this for a little while, then I’ll encourage her to throw it away.”
“Look on the bright side.” The laughter in his voice was calming, soothing. “At least you won’t be tempted to eat it.”
“That’s for sure. I’ve been known to finish off a few treats, but this won’t be one of them.”
He leaned his back against the edge of the table and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. “I’d never be able to steer myself away from sweets for more than a day or two, so I admire your willpower.”
She wondered what he would think if he learned that her self-improvement program had only begun the minute she’d laid eyes on him again.
At the beginning of the year, though, when she’d first learned that Jared was having an affair, she’d started a diet and exercise plan, hoping she could entice her husband to end things and come back home. But then she’d connected the dots and realized the man she’d thought was a workaholic had actually been a womanizer. And she’d decided not to stress about carbs or calories until after the divorce was final and she’d gotten the kids resettled in Fairbrook.
But settling in was more difficult than she’d imagined it would be, and her last plan had been to start watching her weight as a New Year’s resolution.
She glanced at Mac, saw him studying her, and forced herself to look away. Shrugging off the possibility of mutual interest, she stood and called Megan. When the child acknowledged her, she began walking to the trash can that was located near the drinking fountain. “I’m going to throw this away, Meggie. It’s melting.”
“Oh, okay.”
After dumping the cone, she used the fountain, its water brisk and cold, to rinse her hands. She wiped them dry on her denim jeans, then shoved them into her pockets for warmth.
Upon her return to the picnic table, she decided to take control of the conversation, shifting it from her and her children to him.
“I’m curious, Mac. How did you decide to pursue a career in law enforcement?”
He looked beyond the playground, then seemed to study his feet. About the time she thought he wasn’t going to answer at all, he said, “Your dad was right about me. I’d had a lousy home and very little parental direction. I’d already started down the wrong path, but when you and I were seeing each other, I was determined to change. To be the kind of guy you thought I could be.”
She felt the need to argue, to defend the boy he used to be, but she kept quiet.
“And to be honest?” Mac’s gaze reached deep inside of her, where there was no need for arguments, excuses, and false sentiment. “I wasn’t sure I could be that man. But, for what it’s worth, your grades might have slipped, but mine had begun to climb.”
Her father had believed that Mac would drag her down, and he’d done his best to discourage her from seeing him.
“After we broke up and you went to college, I figured to heck with it and fell in with a bad crowd, a group of bad-ass delinquents who were in trouble more times than not.” He lifted his hand and pinched his index finger and thumb. “I was this close to crossing the line and facing some jail time.”
“What happened to change that?” she asked.
Again he looked into the distance, and when his gaze returned to her, a crooked grin formed, crinkling the edges of his eyes with wry humor. “I’m probably the only guy you know whose life was turned around by a homeless man.”
“You mean you saw a guy living on the streets and realized you might end up like that?”
“Nope.”
She turned in her seat, her knee brushing against the warmth of his leg. She considered pulling away, but she missed what little connection they still had. “Then how did he…?”
“One day I was cutting through this very park to meet up with some of my friends, and I ran into this homeless guy. At least, I assumed he was homeless. He wore a dark jacket with a torn sleeve, a faded black shirt, and brown frayed pants. His long, stringy hair hung to his shoulders, and he had a bushy, silver-streaked beard.”
“Who was he?”
“He said his name was Jesse—just Jesse. And he had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He seemed to know a lot about me, and he talked the way I always imagined a father might speak to his son.” Mac shrugged a single shoulder. “You know, in a Ward Cleaver or Pa Ingalls sort of way.”
“What did he say?”
“Among other things, he told me that I couldn’t change the past. But I could change the way I perceived it. And that I could choose a better future for myself. One that would put me on the right side of the law and lead me to the family I deserved.”
“And you took his advice to heart?” she asked.
“Yeah. I guess I did.” Mac looked off into the horizon, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t share any more about the epiphany the homeless
man had provided him. But he turned, caught her gaze, and reconnected. “Jesse gave me an interesting lecture about doing the right thing, even though it took a lot more effort than doing the wrong thing. ‘Sometimes it’s easier to concoct a lie than to brave the truth,’ he said. ‘And a weak person will find it easier to take what someone else has earned rather than risk working hard and achieving something on his own.’”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said.
“Neither had I. He went on to say that doing the right thing, even when it seems like the hardest thing in the world to do, is a reward in and of itself. And that the biggest reward was reaping the kind of life I deserved.” Mac uncrossed his ankles and stretched his legs out in front of him. “So, on a whim, I decided to give it a try. Instead of going out with my friends that night, I just went home. I learned later that it was a good thing I did. My friends had been arrested for vandalism, breaking and entering, and burglary.”
“You lucked out.”
“Yep. But it felt like the kind of reward he’d been telling me about.”
“Whatever happened to him?”
“I don’t know. I never saw him again, but I always figured he had some kind of psychic ability. Then again, maybe I’d just decided to make sure his prophecy came true. Either way, I hit the books and ended up with a college degree in criminal justice. And six months after that, I became a police officer. The guys in my department are my family now.”
“Mommy!” Megan’s voice shattered the conversation Jillian had been having with Mac. She turned to the child, who was stooped over a filthy, shaggy mutt. When she looked up, she grinned from ear to ear. “Look, Mommy! It’s a dog.”
“Don’t touch him, Meggie. You don’t know where he’s been.”
“That’s because he’s lost and doesn’t have an owner,” the girl said.
“You don’t know that.” Jillian glanced up at the sky, which had grown darker while they’d been at the park. The air had become colder, too.
Megan ran her hands along the dog’s ribcage. “I can feel his bones. He’s starving. We have to give him something to eat.”
Tommy joined his sister. “Hey, boy. What’s your name, huh?”
Jillian again looked overhead, noting a storm moving in from the northwest. Then she turned to Mac. “We really ought to be going home. I think it’s going to rain.”
Mac stood and made his way toward her.
“But we can’t leave the dog here,” Tommy said, looking up and pushing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “He’ll get sick.”
He was probably already sick. And flea-bitten. The closer Jillian got to the animal, the more neglected it appeared. Its fur was matted and filthy. Brown, soulful eyes peered at her through shaggy bangs, as if pleading for sympathy and help.
“Can we keep him?” Tommy asked. “Please?”
Jillian certainly didn’t need to take in a stray dog, and she opened her mouth to tell the boy no. But the word wouldn’t form.
Maybe the kids needed a new focus. Maybe they needed that poor little stray more than it needed a home. And maybe a new pet would make up for the Christmas presents she wanted to buy them and couldn’t afford.
She approached Mac. “Do you mind if that dog rides in your car? If so, I can come back for it in mine.”
Mac studied the mangy critter, then crossed his arms. “Sure. Why not? I owe a lot to a homeless man. Maybe finding this mutt a new home is a way to pay it forward.”
Chapter Five
The rain began as a light sprinkle, dotting the pavement and plumping the dust in the air with moisture.
As Mac, Jillian, and the kids entered the crosswalk on their way back to where the Ford Expedition was parked, the kids used words of encouragement, kissing sounds, and pats on their thighs to coax the stray dog to follow. Apparently, the shaggy little mutt realized it was in his best interest to keep up with the children, because even though it favored its left hind foot, it managed to hobble across the street at a pretty good lick.
“What are we going to name him?” Megan asked her brother.
Mac’s first thought was “Lucky,” but he didn’t offer any suggestions. He’d already gotten more involved with the little family than he ought to.
“He looks like a Wookiee,” Tommy said. “So how about Chewbacca? We can call him Chewie.”
“I don’t want to call him that. Besides, he’s not going to look like a Wookiee forever. After he gets a bath, I’m going to use one of my barrettes to keep the hair out of his eyes. I don’t think he can see very good.”
“He’s not going to wear girl stuff. We’ll just give him a haircut.” Tommy opened the passenger door, then bent to pick up the dog.
“I’ll do it,” Mac said, reaching for the animal and getting more involved by the minute. “You get in first and buckle your seat belt. Then I’ll pick him up and give him to you.”
If Mac had any qualms about getting sucked in deeper, they disappeared the moment Jillian placed her hand on his forearm, her fingertips pressing gently into his flesh and throwing his pulse out of whack.
Her pretty green gaze reached deep inside of him. “Mac, I really appreciate you being a good sport about this.”
Yeah, it definitely wasn’t his usual MO, but he decided not to think about why that might be. He picked up the filthy mutt and grimaced. “Oh, man. This dog smells like it’s been Dumpster diving.”
The boy opened his arms, ready to take the four-legged Wookiee on his lap.
“Be careful, Mac. He has a sore foot.” Jillian stood at Mac’s side, watching the transfer of the dog to the boy. “I hope it’s nothing serious. If it is, we’ll have to take him to the pound. I can’t afford a vet bill right now.”
“I’m sure it’s no big deal,” Tommy said. “He’ll be fine. Besides, we don’t mind if he’s crippled. Everyone needs love and a family.”
Maybe so, but they didn’t always have one.
Mac certainly hadn’t.
He’d always wanted a dog, too, but his old man had never let him have one. There’d been a Labrador mix that had hung out at the apartment complex for a while, and Mac used to feed him and talk to him every chance he got. He’d even pretended the dog was his—until it was hit by a car. When Mac had spotted that big black dog lying on the side of the road, he’d cried for a week.
Weird how that dumb mutt had become so important in a matter of days.
After closing Tommy’s door, Mac told Jillian, “I’ll pay for any treatment the dog might need.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. And you don’t have to.” He shrugged, then reached for the handle of the passenger door. “Having a dog will probably help the kids through the holiday.”
“You read my mind.” She offered him a wry grin. “And that’s the only reason I agreed to let that stray come home with us.”
Mac opened the door for her, and as she climbed into the vehicle, he glanced first at his grungy hands, then at a dirty smudge on the front of his rain-splattered shirt. The dog wasn’t the only one in need of a bath. Great. He closed Jillian’s door, circled the vehicle, and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“It reeks in here,” Jillian said. “We’d better roll down the windows.”
“Good idea.” Mac started the ignition, then turned on the windshield wipers, letting them make a few swipes to clear his vision.
Jillian glanced over her shoulder and into the backseat. “The first thing we’re going to do when we get home is to give that dog a bath.”
“But Mommy,” Megan objected, “can’t we feed him before that? He’s awful hungry.”
“Okay. But just a snack. We’ve got to get him in the tub before we can turn him loose in the house.”
“He sure is cold and shaky,” Tommy said. “We’d better get him home in a hurry.”
“Yeah,” his sister chimed in. “We don’t want him to get sick.”
She was probably thinking about the dog c
atching a cold, but Mac sure hoped it didn’t get carsick. Then he’d have to call a mobile auto detailing company, which he might have to do anyway to get the doggy stench out of the upholstery.
“I’m going to owe you for this,” Jillian told him. “But the best I can offer is dinner. We’re having tacos tonight, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”
The peanut butter and jelly sandwich had worn off an hour ago, and Mac would have to fill up on something soon. He usually just drove through a burger place or called out for pizza, so there were plenty of options. But in spite of having several reasons why he ought to thank Jillian and decline, none of them seemed to matter. “Tacos sound good.”
Mac backed out of the parking space, then pulled into the street. Other than the slow swishing of the windshield wipers and a few groans and complaints about Chewie’s smell, they returned to Sugar Plum Lane in silence.
As Mac parked in front of Jillian’s house and climbed out of the vehicle, the rain was still a light drizzle. But he suspected it would start coming down harder before too long.
He began to circle the car while Jillian slid out of the passenger seat.
“I’ll carry the dog in the house,” he told her. “There’s no need for all of us to be stinky and dirty.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s give him a chance to go potty first. I have a feeling he isn’t housebroken.”
“You’re probably right.” Mac opened Tommy’s door and took the dog from him. Then he carried it to the grass in front of Jillian’s house.
He expected the little dog to sniff around and gain its bearings or maybe lift its leg to mark its territory, but instead, it trotted over to Charlie’s yard, its left hind leg bobbing behind it.
Uh-oh. Don’t pee over there, Mac thought. Before he could chase after the mutt, Charlie’s front door swung open, and the old man stepped out on the porch, that silly Santa hat still on his head, a cane in his hand, and a frown on his craggy face.
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