A New Leash on Love

by Debbie Burns

  “You won’t go it alone, Soph,” he said, meaning it. “I’ll help you. We’ll take him for long walks. And we’ll get a trainer this time. He may never be the cuddler you were hoping for, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a different sort of relationship with him.” He thought of the girl—Megan—and wondered how she’d react to this news. Somehow, he was certain she wouldn’t be haughty about it. That run-in of theirs had been an icy-sidewalk moment, a collision of the unplanned. How long its effects would reverberate, he didn’t know. “Has your mom called the shelter to tell them?”

  “She did, but we don’t think their phone is working. It rings and rings. I asked if we could drive over, but she doesn’t want to go anywhere today because of the roads.”

  “That makes sense. Half the city is without power, and the roads are still a mess. Besides, they may very well be closed today.”

  “What if someone adopts him before they know we want him back?”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Soph. I’d drive you over there myself, but I’ve got meeting after meeting until after dinner. How about I pick you up from school tomorrow, if they don’t call it off again, and we head straight there?”

  She sniffed, but Craig suspected her tears were those of relief rather than sorrow. “Thanks, Dad.”

  When he hung up, he lingered by the window, watching the man half step, half be lifted into the back of the ambulance. The lights stayed on after the driver took off, but the sirens weren’t turned on. There were degrees of emergencies, and thankfully this one wasn’t life-threatening. The guy may have sprained—or even broken—something, but clearly he was going to be all right.

  Rather than let memory—and the ache of loss—take over, Craig turned from the window and headed back to a soothing pile of unremarkable advertisements that he was willing to bet wouldn’t turn into an icy-sidewalk moment for anyone.

  * * *

  It didn’t seem possible that something so pristine and fairy tale–like could wreak so much havoc, but Webster Groves was a beautiful mess. The thick glaze of ice coating the area was causing a record number of homes and businesses to be without power. And the shelter was one of them.

  “At least it isn’t summer,” Kelsey said so nasally that she sounded as if she should be in bed under the covers. “If it were, we’d have to worry about the animals overheating. It might get cold in here today, but no one’s in any real danger.”

  Kelsey was tall, naturally blond, and almost never wore makeup. She reminded Megan of Gaia, the Greek earth goddess, and seemed to own the role even more by having no clue how inherently beautiful she was.

  This morning, Kelsey was wearing a faded orange T-shirt that read Make a Friend for Life, Adopt over a long thermal undershirt. For the last year or two, she’d dressed for work by the colors of the rainbow—ROYGBIV—starting on Sunday. If Megan ever forgot what day it was, she could figure it out based on Kelsey’s attire. It was a fad that Kelsey suggested for all shelter volunteers and employees. Only Patrick, being extremely fond of routine, had taken her up on it, though he was a stickler for single-pocket polos.

  “True,” Megan answered. She worked to catch her breath. She and Patrick had just hauled the generator up from the basement.

  It seemed today would be a day of triage. They’d take the dogs out in groups and keep the exterior doors shut as much as possible. Once the storm had finally passed, the temperature had plummeted. The winds were ferocious, and the windchill was near zero. With the generator, they’d keep the refrigerators, deep freeze, microwave, and stove working, but they could do without computers for a day. Phones too, for that matter. In addition to the simple notes alongside each kennel, they kept hard copies of all the animals’ special needs, so no one would go without meds.

  “Did you get a count of all our clean blankets?” Megan asked.

  “Thirty-three,” Kelsey said.

  “Patrick, I know you’ll know this. How many dogs do we have that are under a year right now? And how many are seniors?”

  Patrick tucked his thumbs in the loops of his cargo pants and looked toward the ceiling. “Thirteen under one. And seniors…thirty-two.”

  Fidel, who had just come in from de-icing the lot, cocked an eyebrow appreciatively. Megan knew what he was thinking. Who needed a computer when Patrick was around?

  “Well, let’s cut some of the bigger blankets in half.”

  She wasn’t worried about the cats keeping warm. Trina had a warm box on top of the fridge where she loved to hide out. The cats up for adoption were nearly all double-kenneled. They could cuddle if they wanted to. Fortunately, the temperature in the front of the building was hovering near sixty, and the kennels, packed with body heat, were a touch warmer.

  A wave of apprehension passed over her. Her degree was in social work, not business management. At times like this, she felt underqualified to be in charge of Wes’s shelter while he was recuperating from his heart attack and triple bypass back in November.

  Thankfully everyone she worked with was more than competent. Patrick was quirky but more dependable than anyone she’d ever met. Kelsey had been here three years longer than Megan and knew operations inside and out.

  Fidel was not only a hard worker, but also the best dog trainer Megan ever met. He had a newly pregnant wife, three kids under four, and a second job as a night chef that paid better. He was hourly rather than full time, and Megan knew they were lucky to have him as often as they did.

  Knowing the work that was ahead of them, they all got busy in the quiet shelter. Chance, who seemed uneasy with the high winds whipping around the building, followed Megan everywhere she went.

  “I could see these winds being scarier to a blind animal,” she said before realizing Kelsey, who’d been in the gift shop moments ago, must have headed to the back. She scooped Chance into her arms and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. He had a sandy-colored coat and a dirty-gray muzzle. His pupils were waxy gray, his ears were raised and alert whenever he was awake, and his expression conveyed a unique comprehension. His litter had been infected with parvovirus, and Chance was the only one to survive. He’d been adopted once but returned and had become the shelter mascot. Now he was nearing nine.

  Still holding him, Megan headed to the front by the large display window. Although he’d been declared officially blind, he was sensitive to light and on calmer days always knew just where sun was streaming in the windows. Even if it was smack-dab in the middle of the front room, that’s where he’d take his nap. He never flinched when the staff stepped over him.

  “It’s just wind.”

  He let out a whine but stopped when she scratched his chin. She was admiring the sunlight reflecting on the ice-coated branches when she spotted a tall, lithe woman wearing a full-length hooded parka heading toward the entrance.

  “Angela Milburn,” she called, opening the door, “don’t tell me you walked here.”

  Angela turned down her hood as she neared. “Okay, I won’t tell you. But you remember I only live a half mile up the road.”

  “I do, but that had to have been a treacherous half mile.”

  Angela Milburn was seventy-two and one of the shelter’s most active volunteers. She’d come every Monday, Thursday, and Friday for the last two or so years. Megan couldn’t remember her missing a day, but even so, having her show up today in this mess was a surprise.

  “That could’ve been bad.” Megan made an effort not to sound motherly but suspected she did anyway. “They’re saying to watch out for black ice. You could’ve hit a patch and fallen.”

  Angela shrugged sheepishly as she unbuttoned her coat. “I considered that when I slipped and nearly lost my skater’s balance. But I was over halfway here so I kept walking. I figure one of you can drive me home tonight. Though if the power doesn’t come on, I’m in no hurry to get there. My house is darker, quieter, and colder than it is in here.”


  Seeing Angela fold her long, brown parka over her arm caused Angela’s old dog Cocoa to pop into Megan’s mind. Angela had come to the shelter to inquire about volunteering a month after he died. She’d had him nearly sixteen years and was lost without him. She still spoke about him almost as often as she did her late husband.

  Cocoa had been the last gift her husband had given her before being diagnosed with lung cancer. Now that the pain of losing Cocoa wasn’t as acute, Angela had considered adopting a few different shelter dogs, but she’d always found a reason not to. None of them, she always decided, could live up to him.

  Cocoa. Megan had never met him but had seen a few dozen pictures of him. He was a purebred chocolate Lab that her husband had purchased from a reputable breeder. And as much as Angela enjoyed the motley crew of animals who passed through here, she was a lover of Labs. And not just any Labs. Chocolate Labs.

  A surge of hope rushed through Megan. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner. Their new addition, the chocolate Lab puppy, needed a new home. Angela needed the love connection. If Angela reacted the way Megan hoped, that little puppy would be in the best of hands.

  And when things got back to normal, she could call Craig Williams and not only apologize—she could, with luck, give him really good news.

  “Angela,” Megan said, setting Chance back on the floor and giving him an encouraging pat. “We brought someone in yesterday that I’d really like you to meet.”

  Chapter 5

  Megan was exhausted and still chilled to the core, even though the power had finally clicked on shortly after six that morning. Twenty-eight hours after going out. Now she sat with her legs curled under her in her office—Wes’s office actually; she had to believe he’d eventually recover enough to come back and run things—and stared vacantly at the stack of papers in front of her. There was so much to do, and she was even further behind than she’d been at the end of last week when she’d made a commitment to get caught up under any circumstances. Total fail.

  She was debating using the paperwork pile as a temporary pillow when Kelsey popped her head around the doorframe. “Hey, Megs, you never said he was hot.”

  “Who’s hot?”

  “The Christmas puppy guy. He’s outside in the parking lot on a phone call. Patrick noticed him. From what he said, it sounds like you two were shooting off some sparks.”

  Megan’s stomach leaped into her throat. Craig Williams. He was back. Only what for? Maybe he’d found more paperwork. Maybe he wanted to know how Hershey was doing. Wouldn’t he be surprised to learn the happy news?

  She almost asked how she looked, but realized it was a pointless question. This morning, she hadn’t had time to wait for her water heater to warm up so she skipped a shower, which was why she felt so out of sorts. A day didn’t really begin until she’d savored ten or fifteen minutes in the shower.

  Sweat blossomed on her palms. “Should I wait for him to come inside?”

  Kelsey shrugged as she headed back out. “Are you looking for customer advice or man advice? Because I can dish out the first all you need.”

  “Funny.” Megan rubbed her lips together and raked her fingers through her hair as she followed Kelsey into the main room.

  Sure enough, Craig Williams was in the parking lot. Heat warmed Megan’s cheeks, and for the first time all day, she didn’t feel cold.

  A few other customers had come in while Megan was in her office. She was glad for the distraction they offered. She recognized a regular who came in every week to buy their healthy, volunteer-baked dog treats for her Dalmatian. Also in the gift shop area was the miserly woman who came in once or twice a month to complain about their selection of miniature dog collars. She never quite seemed to get that it wasn’t their goal to have the same selection as Petco.

  And Ms. Sherman was here too, inspecting this week’s selection of cats. Usually she came on Monday morning shortly after nine. The storm must have her off schedule, because here it was, nearly eleven on Tuesday.

  And more surprising than that, she seemed to have brought along a guest, a girl that Megan guessed to be around thirteen.

  She made eye contact with the girl and smiled. When the girl seemed to be eyeing her curiously, Megan crossed the floor to join them. Trina was sprawled atop the counter that separated the cat kennels from the rest of the front room, and the girl was petting her. Megan wondered why she wasn’t in school before remembering that half the schools were still called off.

  “Ms. Sherman, how did you and your cats make it through the storm? Did your power stay on?”

  Ms. Sherman turned, eyeing her over top of her rectangular glasses. “Megan, hello. I didn’t see you when I came in.”

  “I was in my office watching my stack of paperwork grow.”

  She pursed her lips at Megan’s attempt at small talk. “We lost power, but thankfully one of my neighbor’s children got a roaring fire going in the fireplace and I was able to keep it up.”

  Megan smiled at the girl. “Oh, how nice.”

  The girl’s eyes widened, and she gave a light shake of her head. “I’m just waiting for my dad.” She raised her finger and gave a little point toward the parking lot.

  Oh no. The girl wasn’t with Ms. Sherman. She was with Craig Williams. Megan’s heart skipped a beat. Please, God, don’t let her have overheard Kelsey saying her dad was hot. And then there was that bit said about sparks. Kelsey clearly had not seen the girl come in.

  “The yellow tabby,” Ms. Sherman said, oblivious to Megan’s turmoil. “Is he as friendly as he looks?”

  “Um, yes. Friendlier, actually. And he’s declawed in front. His owner moved in with her dad, and he’s allergic.”

  Ms. Sherman pulled off her right glove and touched the tip of her pointer finger to the wire door. The tabby pressed his nose against it and meowed. She lingered a second or two, then stepped back and gave a stiff nod.

  “Worth considering,” she said. “Mortimer didn’t have a good week at all.” She slipped her glove back on and gave Megan a quick nod. “I’ll see you next Monday, if not before.”

  “Of course,” Megan said. “I hope…I hope it all works out.”

  When Ms. Sherman pushed out the door, bells jingling, the girl looked at her curiously. “Is she an inspector?”

  Megan shook her head and smiled. “Only for her own purposes. It sounds a bit, well, weird, but she keeps ten cats: five girls, five boys, no more, no less. And three—I think it’s three—of those ten are, like, eighteen years old, which is really old for a cat. When one passes away, she adopts a new one from here. It’s a lot of cats, but she takes fabulous care of them.”

  The girl shook her head and laughed. “That does sound weird. Are any of the ones she adopted on your wall?” She had brown hair and hazel eyes and was a bit heavyset. At first glance she looked nothing like her dad, but Megan saw a faint resemblance now that they were talking. It was somewhere in the eyebrows and nose. Maybe in the face shape.

  “I think I remember Kelsey convincing Ms. Sherman to take a picture with one of the cats she adopted once. She’s not big on pictures, or small talk, which you probably noticed. Kels,” Megan called in Kelsey’s direction, “is Ms. Sherman up there?”

  Kelsey pressed her lips together a second. “Yes, actually she is. Toward the left, about a third of the way over.”

  “Want to see if we can find her?” Megan asked. The wall the girl was referring to was the Wall of Flame, which was a pun playing on the love connections they made here. Anyone who adopted a forever pet was encouraged to send in a picture or drawing. It had grown so crowded over the years that they’d had to expand it. Now it took up most of the east wall of the building. It proved to be a bit of fun for repeat customers to come in and find their picture.

  Ms. Sherman’s lack of smile stood out to Megan right away, but she gave it a minute as the girl scanned the
wall. The cat in the picture was a pale Siamese Megan didn’t remember.

  “Oh, here,” Sophie said, pointing to her. “The cat’s pretty.”

  “She is. I can’t remember anything about her though.”

  The front door jangled open, and Megan’s stomach flipped. He’d said that bit about never crossing paths again, yet here he was walking into the shelter. He was in a dark suit with a white shirt and a blue-gray tie. Megan clamped her fingertips over the edges of the sleeves of the cozy Henley she’d slipped on this morning.

  His gaze dropped to her hips a split second before connecting with her eyes. Are eyes ever really that blue?

  “Ms. Anderson,” he said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “And here I worried we’d never meet again.”

  Megan’s heart slammed against her rib cage as she took his extended hand. An electric current raced up her arm at the skin-to-skin contact. “It is sooner than I’d have thought. But I have great news about your puppy.”

  “I hope it’s that you potty-trained him. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He gave his daughter a playful wink.

  An alarm went off at his words. That was definitely hopeful-for-the-future talk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Williams. Are you… Were you… Are you here because you’re hoping to get him back?”

  He looked from her to his daughter, then back to her. His smile fell. “Are you saying he’s been adopted?”

  The girl’s hands flew to her mouth.

  This isn’t happening. Megan racked her brain for the right words, but her mouth went dry.

  “Are you telling me half the city was closed down, your phones were out, and someone still came in and adopted Sophie’s puppy? All that talk about how hard it is to get an animal adopted, and he didn’t even last a day?”

  Megan’s pulse tapped an erratic beat in her neck. She forced herself not to crumple under his direct gaze. She’d thought she’d done a good thing adopting out his dog. Until now.

  “What I said is true. We have at least a dozen dogs that have been here over a year waiting to be adopted. Only there’s this woman…” she began. “I didn’t make the connection until she came in yesterday. She lost a chocolate Lab a couple years ago, and for the last several months, she’s been considering a lot of dogs. Yesterday, she, uh, she really fell in love with Hershey. He went home with her last night.”