by Debbie Burns
“Don’t be sorry. We’ll figure it out. I mean it. Samson’s always up for a drive. We’ll alternate weekends so you’re not always driving.”
“You might not want to do that when you realize I’m most likely going to be staying at my grandparents’. I’m pretty sure if you sleep over, you’ll be sequestered to the guest room.”
He laughed. “Whatever it takes, Olivia.”
She sucked in a shaky breath. “What did I do to deserve you? I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I just… Gabe…” I love you. Her throat went as dry as cement. What was wrong with her? She cleared it hard as she flipped on her blinker to turn into the little village of Elsah before it came into view. Towering, mature trees blocked the entrance on both sides until she was practically upon it, adding to its hidden-gem allure, but she’d memorized the turn by now and could find it on autopilot. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to find the words. It’s just… It’s different with you. It’s real.”
“I know. And that stuff about deserving; you may be forgetting how extraordinary you are. If anything, it’s the other way around. But I’m good going with us being a good match for each other.”
She laughed softly. “Me too. Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome. You know, I had something I wanted to tell you, too, but I’ll wait till I see you in person. I’d better hang up and call my mom to let her know she doesn’t have to do a rush clean of her house.”
“Tell her thanks, please, and I’m excited to meet her. Both of them. This weekend could work. I’ll be back Saturday afternoon. And please tell her I’d love to bring something.”
“I’ll tell her. And hey…”
“Yeah?”
“Enjoy that dog. Just try not to let him pull a Samson and get used to hogging the other side of the bed, because it’s not going to stay empty long.”
She laughed. “I won’t. He’s sleeping on the floor. Promise.”
“Good, because none of the places your sister has lined up to show me have room for those California kings. And with both of them on the bed, we’d need one.”
After a shared laugh, she said goodbye and hung up, regretting she hadn’t made the decision to swing by his place before heading home. She should have told him in person. It enamored her to him even more to realize he probably felt the same way but wasn’t holding it against her. He seemed to understand her fears even better than she did.
Maintaining the mandated snail’s pace of a speed limit, Olivia drove through the picturesque town reminiscent of stepping back in time to the late eighteen hundreds, complete with cobblestone sidewalks, gazebos, and even an old dance hall. As if anticipating that the drop in speed indicated a bigger change, Morgan poked his head between the seats.
“Hey, buddy.” She pressed her forehead against his soft jowls. “We’re home. For the time being, anyway. But you know what they say. ‘Home is where you hang your hat.’ What matters is that we’re together.”
As if agreeing with her, Morgan gave a thorough sniff of her hair that ended in a swipe of his tongue across her temple. As she slipped the car into Park on the narrow strip of driveway her aunt had reserved for her, she swiped her temple dry with the back of her hand.
“I’m going to take that as you being in agreement. So, this is it, Morgs. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life.”
Chapter 28
“Anything beginning to smell familiar?”
Now that they were less than ten miles from their hometown, it sounded as if Morgan was taking deeper sniffs of the air from his spot in the back seat.
It was still hard for Olivia to believe she was a dog owner. Had been for over forty-eight hours. Coco hadn’t exactly had a heart attack, but the vocal bird wasn’t happy. So far and for the foreseeable future, only one of them was allowed in Aunt Becky’s main living area at a time. When Coco was on her perch between the dining area and couch, Morgan was either in Olivia’s loft bedroom or outside in the small, fenced-in yard. Once Coco was taken to Aunt Becky’s room for an early evening, Morgan was being given a cautious free rein of the living room and kitchen.
Even though it was unlikely he’d spent much time indoors most of his life, potty training so far had been a breeze. Olivia’s fingers were crossed, hoping that as he got more comfortable, he wouldn’t regress. For now, he seemed eager to relieve himself on the plants, grasses, and trees as he’d grown up doing. She was committed to giving him plenty of opportunity to do so until she was certain he’d figured it out.
When it came to swiping food off the table, it was another story all together. Even in-peel bananas weren’t safe, which came as a bit of a shocker to Olivia. She’d known a few food-snatching dogs but had never met one with a hankering for fruit. Or with his stealth at swiping food off plates.
Knowing he was still adjusting to having an abundance of food again, she was committed to optimism that he’d be trainable in this regard too. And he hadn’t even come close to leaving some of his kibble in the bowl at his morning and evening meals. The opposite, actually. He spent a few minutes each time licking his bowl spotless.
“Considering how rough your last few weeks were down here, you may not be psyched about spending nine months in this place. To be completely honest, I’m not either.”
Now that they were on the outskirts of their mutual hometown, it was clear Morgan was smelling long-familiar scents. He was practically shoving his nose in the corner of the side window where the trim was loose.
The closer they got, the more real this whole thing became. She was going home. Again.
“You want to know something crazy?” When Morgan licked his jowls, she took it as being as close to a yes as she’d get. “I’ve never lived on my own. Ever. There was dorm life. But I don’t think that counts. I’ve always lived with someone, and mostly it’s been with an authority figure. What does that say about me?”
When nothing but silence filled the car, she added, “What if I never live alone?” If things kept progressing with Gabe the way she expected them to, they’d very likely be moving in together when this year was over. And she’d welcome it, but still, would she be losing out on something if she never had this experience?
She was still reeling over this new awareness when she pulled off the highway and stopped at the U Gas to fill her almost-to-fumes tank. While it was filling, she got Morgan out to stretch his legs, remembering how impressed she had been with Gabe that first day she’d met him when he’d done nothing more than point to the grass and trustworthy Samson had trotted over to do his business.
She could hardly fathom being able to do that with Morgan someday. Even if he didn’t run off, it seemed like a far stretch to imagine him becoming as calm and easily obedient as Samson.
It didn’t matter if Morgan was never obedient like that, she thought, heading back to the car with him. He was charming and affectionate and already loyal in his own way. Even if she did have to guard her plate with the attention of a night watchman.
“Olivia Graham? Well, I’ll be! Look at you. All grown up and still a Graham at that. Got a lot of your grandfather in you, don’t you?”
Olivia blinked at the woman who’d just gotten out of the truck on the other side of the pump. It took a couple seconds to connect the considerably older but familiar woman with the voice that didn’t seem to have changed a bit. “Mrs. Tilby?” She could hear Ava saying it was just the kind of town where your fourth-grade teacher remembered you even when you hadn’t seen her for the better part of fifteen years.
“In the flesh.”
Morgan let out a loud bark when Mrs. Tilby stepped around the pump, her gait having stiffened considerably since Olivia had last seen her.
“Hush, Morgan. It’s okay.”
“I heard you’ve been teaching up in St. Louis this spring. City kids, of all things. Bet that was an adjustment compared to the goo
d stock we get around these parts.”
The hair on the back of Olivia’s neck prickled. “The new school was a bit of an adjustment. But not because of the kids. They’ve been great. Better than great. They’re motivated and caring and passionate about making a difference. A lot like our kids, only their focus is a bit different.”
Mrs. Tilby let out a huff that implied nothing Olivia could say would change her opinion, reminding Olivia of some of the things she’d been one hundred percent fine leaving behind back in January.
“Well, you don’t look any worse for the wear. I’ll give you that.” Mrs. Tilby wasn’t at all shy about looking Olivia over from head to toe.
After letting Morgan sniff Mrs. Tilby and tolerate a pat on the head before shying away, Olivia opened the back door of her car, and he hopped in with easy grace. “Thanks. It’s actually been an incredible experience, if you want to know.”
“As they say, better you than me. I would’ve guessed that breakup with Trevor might’ve left its scars, but you look good. Real good.”
“Life’s been treating me well, thanks.” She hung up the nozzle and closed her fuel-tank lid, determined to get out before this turned into a full-scale interrogation.
“I guess you heard he’s still living in that pretty little ranch out on the 4 County Road.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed he’d live anywhere else. It was willed to him, after all.” She threw open her car door, a dozen things she’d not liked about her fourth-grade teacher circulating freshly through her mind. “It was nice running into you, but I’d better go.”
“It’ll be a lucky girl who catches him, that’s for sure.”
Olivia had one leg inside but froze. “My hope for Trevor—and whoever he ends up with—is that they’re better matched than he and I were. Good afternoon, Mrs. Tilby.”
Olivia slipped in and shut the door before anything else was said. Fire was flowing through her veins.
What are you doing coming back here?
“That’s the thing about this place, Morgan,” she said as she drove off, pulling onto the two-lane highway and hitting the gas pedal a little too hard. “Just about everyone thinks they know your business, when they don’t know even the half of it.” She gripped the steering wheel like she was about to pull onto a motocross raceway. “And another thing. They’re never going to let me live it down. Ever. Trevor is a Jones. And the Joneses are as good as legend.” She took a handful of long, deep breaths in hopes of calming down, but it did little to chill the fire in her veins.
Pulling over onto gravel, she scanned through her music for something to help ease the tension coursing through her. Spotting Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song,” she pressed Play and turned up the volume, singing along in hopes of finding some release. After a few stanzas, Morgan joined in, letting out a series of barks that rolled into a bay, and more than anything, this is what cooled her anger. By the time the song was over, she was laughing at her dog’s excitement.
“Is my voice that bad? Wait, don’t answer.”
Before even contemplating it, she turned down the dirt road where she and Gabe had found Morgan, and her blood began to heat all over again. It felt like much longer than a month ago that she and Gabe had driven down this road together. And it looked it too. Back then, most of the world had still been the dull brown of winter with sporadic hints of yellow-green. Now, the trees and grasses were the bright, healthy green of full spring, the corn, soy, and cotton fields were bustling with new growth, and the river had receded after the deluge of spring rains had ended. The evening sky was a brilliant hue of bright blue, and the heat and humidity that were sure to come were holding off awhile longer.
“You know where we’re going, don’t you, Morgs?”
He was sniffing the air with such exuberance, she cracked the windows, letting in the wind.
She wasn’t sure what was drawing her down this road, or even if it was in his best interest, but she couldn’t turn back. She needed to see the house. Morgan’s house. And for some reason, she was strangely certain he needed to see it too.
“Do dogs need closure?” Her heart leaped into her throat as she spotted the house ahead and slowed to a snail’s pace to finish their approach. She’d forgotten what terrible shape the home had been in. Peeling paint. Broken shutters and a broken window. Seedlings growing out of the gutter. Dark, gritty stains running down the roof. Discarded furniture and trash strewn about the front porch.
She pulled into the empty driveway and shut off the ignition. “We don’t have to get out if you don’t want to.”
Morgan stuck his head out the half-rolled-down window and woofed at the house.
“Is that a yes?”
She got out and opened the back-passenger door. When he hopped out without hesitation, she grabbed his leash and decided to let him lead her wherever he wanted to go.
He beelined for the porch, sniffing everything along the way but turning twice to look back as if to reaffirm she was still with him. He sniffed and paced back and forth the length of the leash, then abruptly pulled toward the far end of the porch. What had earlier felt like a long time ago suddenly seemed right upon her again, as if she could turn around and see Gabe’s truck parked in the driveway and, if she listened, hear the rush of the floodwater surging in the backyard.
An image of Gabe that afternoon rose clear and crisp in her mind. He was soaked and exhausted from his struggle in the water. He’d tugged off the life vest and out of his shirt and was drying off with a worn towel he’d had in the back of his truck. In just a glimpse, she’d committed that torso—long and lean and naturally muscled—to memory. Maybe it was spurred by how close he’d come to not getting to the dog in time, or because of the spill he’d taken in the water, but he’d looked as vulnerable as he did strong and capable. She’d wanted to be there for him, just like she’d wanted him to be there for her. And a half hour later, she’d been unable to stop herself from initiating that first kiss in his truck that had been so unlike anything she’d ever done.
How was it that on that stormy afternoon a month ago, she’d taken a leap down the path of becoming wildly in love with both a person and a dog when neither had been in her plans?
She remembered back to being a kid in preschool and playing with the bin full of red cardboard construction bricks. She’d painstakingly assemble an imposing tower, hoping her creation wouldn’t fall, and then, when it inevitably tumbled apart, cringed as if the impact of the cardboard bricks would hurt even though they never did. She felt the same way now—as though she was watching something she’d built fall apart; only, in the very same way, the crashing bricks didn’t hurt. More surprisingly, as they fell, they were reassembling into something else entirely. Something new and foreign and exciting.
Before she knew it, Morgan had tugged her around to the back of the house, nose to the ground.
Even though she’d witnessed the power of the water firsthand, the flood damage came as a shock. The trees still stood, but branches littered a yard caked with mud and other debris. As she spied the remnants of the shed and pen, her shock was so great, she nearly let go of Morgan’s leash. Most of what was left of his old home had been washed more than fifty feet from where it stood when he’d been rescued. Broken sections of fence and strips of wood were wrapped around the bases of the trees they’d been washed into. The rest had been washed away.
With ears pricked forward and nose still to the ground, Morgan tugged her forward. Did he have any idea how close he’d been to dying?
Morgan sniffed and sniffed around the base of what had once been his pen but was now only splintered wood and bent, galvanized metal posts jutting up from concrete mounds. Finally satiated, he stopped sniffing and raised his head, looking at her before turning his attention to the woods.
She waited as still as could be, wondering what he’d do next. His body remained as still as stone for close to a
minute, his only movement an occasional sniffing of the air as he took in his surroundings. A steady, gentle breeze blew, carrying the earthy scent of the river mixed with the new growth of spring. Finally, he sank to his haunches, head cocked at attention and big ears dangling, watching her the way he did when she had a treat in her hand and he was waiting for direction.
She sank to his level, resting on the backs of her ankles and draping her arms over his neck. With no hesitation, he melted closer into her, his wet nose burrowing in her hair and along her face and neck.
She closed her eyes and soaked in his warmth. She couldn’t say if seconds or minutes passed as a calm swept over her deeper than any she’d experienced in a long time.
“You know what, Morgs,” she said when she finally pulled away. “I’m pretty sure you and I have come to the same conclusion. This isn’t our home anymore.”
As if he was in complete agreement, he stood up and began leading her back through the yard and around the house to the car.
Chapter 29
Samson was pressing against his side, snoring into his ear, when Gabe stirred from a deep sleep. He flipped sides, turning his back to his dog, trying to retreat into sleep again before his mind began to race. He was starting to drift when he was awakened again. This time, he was alert enough to identify the sound.
Someone was knocking on his door.
He sat up, swiping his thumb and forefinger across his lids before opening his eyes. He reached for his cell and lit the screen. 1:17. He didn’t need to spy the missed call from Olivia a few minutes ago to know it was her knocking at the door.
He got up and headed across his apartment, clearing his throat and adjusting the only thing he was wearing, a pair of old boxers, so they weren’t gaping open as he greeted her.
He was still too sleep-ridden to attempt to guess what had brought her here when she was supposed to be over three hours away, but he was still relieved when he opened the door to find her beautiful face a wash of what could only be happiness.