by Rachel Lacey
“Yeah. Anyway, I’ll ask him more about it once he’s feeling better.”
When they’d finished eating, T.J. stood and hugged his sister. “It’s okay. He’s going to be fine.”
She nodded. He wished there was more he could do to help her. She’d shouldered the burden of Noah’s upbringing all on her own, and it hadn’t been easy. She’d been his champion when he was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome, which was later classified as high-functioning autism. She worked her butt off to keep a roof over their heads, put food on their table, and afford the therapy he needed.
T.J. admired the hell out of her.
When they reentered the room, Merry sat in the chair by Noah’s bed, looking at a picture book from his backpack. T.J. recognized it immediately because he’d given it to him: a Lego character encyclopedia. His nephew lived and breathed Legos and could build some of the most amazing and complex creations T.J. had ever seen, with or without an instruction manual.
“Lego super wrestler, he looks pretty intense. Do you have him?” Merry asked.
Noah nodded. His hands fluttered restlessly against his chest as she turned the page. Then his eyes brightened, and he pointed to something on the right-hand page.
“Aww, a Lego nurse.” Merry pressed a hand to her heart. “She has brown hair just like me. Do you have her?”
Noah shook his head and shrugged, then flipped to another page.
“A ninja. A pharaoh. A zombie! Wow, they really do have a Lego for everything. Which one is your favorite?” she asked.
Noah reached for the book, but she closed her fingers over it with a warm smile.
“No, tell me without looking.”
“Page fourteen, the cowboy,” he answered without hesitation.
“Just like your uncle.” Merry looked at T.J.
Something warm stirred in the air between them, tugging at his gut. He imagined how she might look on Twilight’s back, galloping across the field behind his barn with that wild hair fanning out from under a cowboy hat. Goddamn, she’d look sexy on his horse.
Her eyes widened, as if she sensed the direction his imagination had taken.
T.J. looked away, and the connection was lost. Except later that afternoon, as he took Tango out for a ride, he could still feel the heat of those hazel eyes like a brand on his hide.
CHAPTER THREE
Merry sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the photo in her hands. Tyler smiled up at her from inside the glass, his sweet baby cheeks pink and full of life. His eyes, still that bright baby blue. She’d never gotten the chance to see if they’d turn hazel like hers or stay blue like his father’s.
She brushed a finger over one of his brown, wispy curls, but felt only cold, hard glass. Her baby, her sweet Tyler. The scream rose up inside her like steam in a kettle brought to boil. She rolled onto the bed and pressed her face into the bedspread to keep it from escaping, because if she let it out, if she started screaming, she might never stop.
Ralph hopped up next to her and pressed his back against hers. Bless him. He always knew when she needed a shoulder to lean on. As the pain in her chest began to ease, she rolled to her side, and he burrowed against her, nubbin wiggling. He rested his face against her neck and breathed deeply. She rested a hand across his back and did the same. Sweet Ralph. He had a gift for easing people’s burdens. He never failed to bring a smile to a sick child’s face.
He was the most dependable man in her life, behind her daddy, of course. But Ralph beat any man she’d ever dated. He was one of a kind, and she felt blessed every day that she’d been the one to pull him out of that dirty shelter four years ago. She’d saved him, and he’d returned the favor many times over.
With shaking fingers, she placed Tyler’s photo onto her bedside table, cursing the God who hadn’t saved him. Cursing herself for not having the ability to save him herself. How many others had she saved? But not the one who meant the most, not her own son. Her breath hitched, and Ralph nuzzled her neck, again bringing her back from the edge.
Baby Jayden had gotten to her today. It hurt her to her core to watch him suffer, to know his mother had caused his pain and now couldn’t even be there to help see him through it. He’d lain alone too often today, sometimes held by the foster mother Social Services had assigned him, other times by various nurses and aides on the floor.
But not by his mother, and that gouged a hole in Merry’s heart.
She slept that night with her arms around Ralph to keep the nightmares at bay. The memories of Tyler cold and gray and lifeless in his crib sometimes still left her screaming in a cold sweat in the dark hours of the night. She woke with Chip and Salsa sprawled across her legs, taking up every remaining inch of the bed.
No-Name slept in her bed on the floor. In the bedroom though, and that was progress. As early morning sun streamed through the window, Merry gazed at the brown mutt in the corner. She needed a name.
“Sandy?” she said aloud, eyeing her golden fur. The dog kept her back turned.
“Biscuit?” Nothing.
“Taffy?” The dog sighed.
“Amber?”
She raised her head and looked at Merry with big, brown eyes.
Merry pushed up on one elbow. “Amber? You like that?”
The dog’s tail gave a shy wag.
“All right then. Amber it is. I’m still trying to find a home for you, you know, but you can stay here in the meantime. I promise you’ll never be homeless again, okay?”
Another wag.
By now, Chip and Salsa were awake, both belly-up and gnawing on each other’s tails with puppy squeals of delight. Merry knew better than to put her fingers in harm’s way. Chip yelped as Salsa nipped too hard, and she turned to give her brother an apologetic kiss. They were teaching each other bite inhibition the old-fashioned way.
With a lazy yawn, Merry rolled out of bed. The clock on the dresser read eight thirty-two. Heaven. Today began her four days off. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Her rest and recharge time to devote to herself and her dogs.
Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays she worked twelve-hour shifts at the hospital, with the occasional extra shift thrown in. She never turned down the opportunity to earn overtime. Overtime money always went straight to the dogs.
Today, she and Ralph would visit the pediatric floor to cheer up the kids. They usually visited on Fridays, but this Friday she was tied up with a fund-raising event at a local pet boutique. Hopefully it would bring in some much-needed funding.
Her Facebook plea had raised over a hundred dollars, all from her own volunteers, which defeated the whole purpose. Her volunteers were already giving their all. She needed money from the outside to keep Triangle Boxer Rescue afloat.
A bubble of panic rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down. She could still fix this. Surely there were people out there who would want to support her rescue. She just had to find them.
Still, she couldn’t shake the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. If things got any worse, she wouldn’t be able to pay her own bills, and what would she do then?
It wasn’t going to happen. She’d find a new source of donations. Failure was not an option, not this time.
After breakfast, she took the dogs on a long walk, then got Ralph ready for his visit to the hospital. She groomed him, brushed his teeth, and trimmed his nails, then loaded him into the car.
They arrived at Dogwood Hospital just past eleven. Ralph looked dapper in his yellow vest announcing him as a therapy dog. His fawn coat shone under the fluorescent lighting, his head held high. He took such pride in his work. It was truly the highlight of his week.
Merry stopped at the nurses’ station to say hello and get a list of patients to visit. Still in Room 311 was Noah Walton. She headed there first, remembering T.J. had mentioned Noah’s special connection with dogs.
The boy lay on his side, sleeping, when she entered. His uncle sat at his bedside, his attention focused on the iPhone in his hand. Merry paused just ins
ide the door, rooted to the spot as T.J. raised his head and looked at her.
Her insides heated right up. Today, he wore a plain black T-shirt tucked into jeans. She couldn’t see his feet but suspected his trademark leather boots were in place. It was the damnedest thing. She’d never gone for the cowboy type before, but T. J. Jameson sure fired her up.
She’d be angling for a cowboy fling if he hadn’t been such a jerk about her dogs because, if she wasn’t mistaken, she saw the same level of interest reflected in his dark eyes.
Oh well. She turned her attention to the boy sleeping in the bed. “I’ll come back later,” she whispered.
T.J. shook his head. He tapped something onto his phone, then held it up for her to read. He’s not asleep. It’s just how he copes when he doesn’t feel like talking.
She nodded and came to sit by the bed, Ralph at her side.
“That’s a handsome dog,” T.J. said. “What’s his name?”
“This is Ralph.”
On cue, Noah’s eyes opened, then widened as he caught sight of the dog sitting beside his bed. Ralph cocked his head and stared up at the boy eagerly, his tail nubbin wiggling with anticipation.
“Ralph,” Noah repeated, and the dog gave him a friendly doggy-smile.
“He’s a boxer. He works here at the hospital once a week, visiting all the kids. Would you like to pet him?”
Noah sat up. He fidgeted with his blanket for a moment, then reached for Ralph.
“Go greet,” Merry told him, and Ralph popped to his feet and approached the bed, tail a blur of happiness.
“Hi, Ralph,” Noah said. He stuck his hand out, and Ralph pressed his face into it, licking his palm.
Noah smiled, the first time Merry had seen him smile. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and cupped both hands around Ralph’s face, looking at last like a carefree eight-year-old boy. “What a good dog.”
“He likes you,” Merry told him.
Noah beamed. He looked like a young Harry Potter in his round glasses, with his mop of straight brown hair. His boyish face lit with joy as he rubbed Ralph beneath his chin. In response, the dog leaned closer, his eyes closed in blissful appreciation.
Five minutes later, Ralph was belly-up in Noah’s bed, and the boy was laughing. Laughing! It was a beautiful sound. Merry glimpsed a suspicious brightness in T.J.’s eyes as his nephew transformed into this happy-go-lucky child thanks to her dog.
Now she understood why dogs were such an important part of the camp. Maybe she was wrong to have pushed for so much in return. Maybe she should have just agreed to his terms and brought Ralph to work with the kids. He could have brought magic to that camp, to hell with the rest of it.
In that moment, as she watched Noah throw his arms around her dog’s neck and squeeze him tight, if T.J. had asked her to reconsider, she would have said yes.
But of course, he didn’t ask.
* * *
T.J. coughed to clear the painful tightening in his throat at the sight of his nephew playing with Merry’s dog. This was why he’d decided to start a camp, to give Noah the chance to experience this kind of happiness, of normalcy, every day for a few precious weeks this summer.
The boy had been begging for a dog of his own for years. Unfortunately, with Amy’s allergies, it could never happen.
Noah leaned forward, and Ralph nuzzled his neck. T.J. tensed, edging closer to the bed. One well-placed bite and his nephew would be fighting for his life.
Ralph turned his head to lay a sloppy kiss on Noah’s cheek, and the boy laughed. T.J. forced himself to lean back in the chair and release his white-knuckled grip on the bed rail. He was overreacting. A well-bred dog with a solid pedigree and training like Ralph was unlikely to turn violent. His nephew was not in danger.
Noah whispered to Ralph in words only the dog could hear. Ralph listened closely, his stump of a tail wagging madly, eyes fixed on Noah’s face.
“You have a way with dogs,” Merry told him.
“I love them,” he said, and clutched Ralph tighter.
Merry smiled, her eyes warm. She wore jeans today with a blue top that might go perfectly with a pair of boots. He cursed himself for allowing that image of her in cowgirl gear astride Twilight to invade his mind. It was pure fantasy. Merry Atwater was about as far from the girl of his dreams as a woman could be.
She sat patiently at Noah’s bedside for much longer than he’d expected, laughing and bantering with the boy until he’d tired.
“Did you know it would take forty billion Legos to reach from the earth to the moon?” Noah asked Merry as he snuggled back against his sheets.
“That’s a lot of Legos.”
“There are over nine hundred and fifteen million different ways to combine six Lego bricks. I read that online,” he said.
“You’re a smart boy.” Merry patted his hand.
“I’m going home this afternoon,” he told her.
“That’s great news. Be sure you tell your mom if your headache gets worse or if you see any funny lights behind your eyelids or anything like that, okay?”
Noah’s hands slid restlessly over the blanket. “I missed the last day of school.”
She stroked a hand over his hair. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”
“Your mom said you could go by tomorrow to say goodbye to your teacher and get your stuff,” T.J. told him.
“Okay.” Noah’s eyelids started to droop.
Merry said a quick good-bye and left, taking with her most of the light and energy from the room. Noah closed his eyes and lapsed back into his state of semi-sleep.
While his nephew rested, T.J. returned his attention to the task at hand: securing therapy dogs for his camp. He’d contacted every dog trainer and canine-assisted therapy organization he could find within fifty miles, and finally he’d had some interest.
A psychiatrist named John Wheeler had a therapy dog he used with some of his patients and wanted to hear more about T.J.’s camp. He emailed him back to schedule a meeting for the following afternoon.
Hopefully this one would pan out. He’d hoped to have several dogs on his property, but no one seemed to have more than one therapy dog, so he’d have to make do. As long as the dog was suitable. He’d had enough of mixed breed mutts to last a lifetime.
T.J. leaned back in the chair and rolled his shoulders. The straight-backed wooden chairs at Noah’s bedside weren’t made to sit in for any length of time. He’d volunteered to stay the morning while Amy got some much-needed rest before her next shift at Finnegan’s.
While she was at work, Noah usually stayed with a sitter, a college student who spent several evenings a week doing homework on Amy’s couch while Noah slept upstairs. Tonight Noah would be staying with his grandparents. Trace and EmmyLou had jumped at the chance to have him, and T.J. knew he’d be spoiled silly while at the same time getting the extra TLC he needed while he recovered from his concussion.
T.J. was headed there himself after he left the hospital. One of his dad’s mares was due to foal any day now, and he’d asked T.J. to give her a once-over. This was Jewel’s first pregnancy, and she’d been agitated lately, anxious over the impending birth.
The door opened, and Amy slipped into the room. She set her purse on the floor and sank into the chair opposite T.J. “How is he?”
“He just had a visit from a therapy dog, which cheered him up and wore him out.”
Amy’s eyes brightened. “Oh, how cool! I didn’t know they had therapy dogs here.”
“One of the nurses brings him in on her day off.”
“Merry?”
He nodded.
Amy gave him an appraising look. “You like her, I can tell. You should seriously think about having her do the camp. What did you think of her dog?”
“Top notch. Noah really responded to him, but she’s not right for the camp. She wanted to bring shelter dogs and have me keep them at the house.”
She laughed. “She changed the rules. That’s not allowed, right, li
ttle brother?”
He stood and reached for his hat. “Her rules don’t work for me, that’s all. I’m headed to Mom and Dad’s to check on Jewel. I’ll probably see you later when you drop Noah off.”
“Okay. Thanks again for staying with him today.”
“Any time.” He headed out the door, opting for the stairs rather than the elevator to stretch his legs.
Outside, he inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh, early summer air. T.J. had grown up on a farm and spent most of his time working outside with animals. Any time he spent too long inside a large building like Dogwood Hospital he started to feel claustrophobic, like the stale air wasn’t properly feeding his lungs.
He set his hat on his head and started his truck, headed for his parents’ ranch on the outskirts of town. Soon, the suburbs gave way to rolling green hills and sprawling farms. Cattle grazed on the left, while the large blue and white sign on the right announced Blue Sky Farm.
T.J. and Amy had grown up here, and the years lifted away every time he drove through its gates. He’d ridden these fields since he was a boy, been spilled into the grass more times than he could count. He’d gotten a concussion of his own right over by the pond when his father’s prized stallion, King’s Blue Sky, had tossed him into the fence.
He couldn’t have asked for a better childhood or a more perfect place to grow up. He parked by the barn and waved at his mom, who was walking from the chicken coop with a basket of fresh eggs.
“You stayin’ for supper?” she asked, shading her eyes with her left hand.
His stomach growled at the prospect of his mother’s cooking. “Of course.”
“I made spaghetti and meatballs. It’s Noah’s favorite.”
“Sounds good. How’s Jewel this afternoon?”
“Her bag’s pretty full, could be the baby comes tonight. It’s a full moon, you know.”
T.J. smiled. His mom could be superstitious, but on this she was right. Nothing brought along a stubborn foal like a full moon. “I’ll have a look at her.”
“Your dad’s in there now.”
T.J. stepped inside the barn, greeted by a series of whinnies up and down the row of stalls as the animals caught sight of him. He’d birthed many of them, cared for all of them. His parents raised some of the finest foundation quarter horses in North Carolina.
