Rescue Me

by Catherine Mann

  “Sure thing,” he said. “I’ll be right in. I need to take Trooper for a quick run first.”

  A tan shepherd mix, Trooper leaped out of the cab of the truck in a blur of fur and energy. The midsized mutt had been Lacey’s husband’s companion in Iraq, and when he’d died, Mike had brought Trooper home to the McDaniel family. Now Mike was a part of their family, too. Trooper had bonded so tightly to Sierra and Mike that, when they’d moved, Trooper had gone with them.

  If they hadn’t taken him, without question, the smart pup would have escaped every fence on the property and tracked them all the way to North Carolina.

  Lacey gave Mike a quick hug before she slid a balancing arm around her daughter’s thickened waist. Mike waved again as he jogged to catch up with Trooper. The crazy mutt was already bounding through the snow, Clementine the three-legged Labrador close on his heels to catch her buddy, the two of them leaving crop circles of paw prints.

  The wind cut through Mary Hannah’s sweat suit and the blanket. She backed away, feeling guilty for trying to escape until she could get used to seeing Sierra’s pregnant stomach. “Sierra, we’ll catch up later. I should let you all have your family time.”

  Extending her arm, Sierra waggled her fingers for Mary Hannah, clearly not taking no for an answer. “You are family. Join us.”

  Mary Hannah surrendered to the inevitable and followed. “For a few minutes. I really do need to change soon.”

  Lacey tugged open the back door for Sierra, her daughter’s ponytail swishing along her back as she waddled ahead up the steps. “I’m so glad you and Mike made it in tonight. Was the drive too awful?”

  “Snowy, slow going. God, Mom, I never knew being pregnant meant peeing all the freaking time.” Sierra shuffled toward the half bath tucked under the stairs. “And food, Mom, please,” she called through the closed door. “I’m starving.”

  Lacey opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of salad. “Your brother and grandfather aren’t back with the rolls yet, but I can make you a ham sandwich. Mary Hannah? Would you like one, too?”

  “No thank you.” She wanted to leave, but she was a people pleaser. She always did what she was supposed to—and if she didn’t the world went to hell. She dragged in a ragged breath.

  Sierra came back out of the bathroom with a huge sigh of relief and slumped in a chair at the scarred table. “Yes, a sandwich, please.” She trailed her fingers along the cat circling her chair. “With cheese, too. And if there are cookies in that old Santa jar, I’ll do the dishes for all eternity.”

  “Mary Hannah’s bringing the cookies tomorrow. We’re all running a little behind schedule.” Lacey pulled bread from the bread box—an old-fashioned necessity that kept dogs from counter-surfing to steal a bag. “Today’s hoarding situation turned out to be a lot more involved than we expected. They were running a meth-lab operation out of a home, plus a backyard breeding business.”

  “How awful. Are you two okay?”

  Mary Hannah hugged herself. “It was sad. Beyond sad, really. I’m not sure I’ll ever forget the look in that mother boxer’s eyes . . .” She hesitated, the meow from under the table and the cuckoo clock in the hall filling the void, announcing seven fifteen. “Hopefully we’ll have her here soon. Lacey? And you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I didn’t see the worst of it since I was outside the whole time.” She sliced off a piece of ham and added it to the bread with cheese and mustard. “Then I left early to get back here. I owe Mary Hannah. She carried the brunt of the work helping out Animal Control and the police.”

  She set the plate with a sandwich in front of Sierra along with a glass of milk and a cloth reindeer napkin.

  “Just doing what I can and hoping once they clear their systems of the meth, they’ll get the green light to come here.”

  Sierra took a bite out of her sandwich and sighed blissfully as she chewed. “Remember Lucky, the one that ate a teenager’s stash of weed? Once he detoxed from the pot, he was a great, adoptable dog.”

  Lacey tucked away the bread. “A dog that lived with a family. Sure, the teen had a drug problem, but everything else in that house was relatively normal. That sure wasn’t the case today.”

  Sierra set aside her glass of milk. “When does Wyatt get here? I assume he’s coming over.”

  “He’s still filing a report on today’s incident. He’ll be here after he finishes up at the station and changes, probably later this evening.” She checked inside the Crock-Pot. “You’ll get to meet his cousin, too.”

  “Lacey,” Mary Hannah warned softly.

  “The new cop? The one you keep telling me is perfect for Mary Hannah. Who’d have thought you would play Cupid?”

  “It was Wyatt’s idea.”

  Sierra nodded, polishing off the last of her sandwich. “He probably liked the notion that you would have Mary Hannah to distract you so he can talk about a ball game or fishing with his cousin.”

  Lacey closed the Crock-Pot with a clatter. “That’s a little cynical. He’s a nice guy.”

  “I know. It was a poor attempt at a joke. I’m happy for you, Mom.” She traced a scar in the well-worn family table. “The holidays just have me missing Dad. You deserve to be happy, and if Wyatt makes you happy, I’m all in.”

  “He does. But I miss your dad, too.”

  Sierra leaned to hug her mom tight, blond ponytail swinging around.

  Mary Hannah felt like a fifth wheel, not to mention a self-pity wimp. This family had every reason to feel loss over the holidays, and unlike her, they’d done nothing wrong. Nothing to deserve this pain.

  She eased back quietly to slip out the door.

  Sierra pulled away from her mom and tossed the napkin on the table. “Wait, Mary Hannah. I really want to catch up with you before supper starts.” She glanced at her mother. “Is that okay with you, Mom?”

  “Absolutely. We have weeks to visit, and I need to tie up some loose ends now.”

  So much for making a clean escape. But she couldn’t deny the relief of getting that girl time and ice cream after all.

  Five

  Who is The Weakest Link? I always thought it was me . . . until I learned strength comes in many forms.

  —FEMALE BOXER, FOUR YEARS OLD, SHELTER #S75230

  LACEY MCDANIEL WAS dog tired, in more ways than one.

  She hefted the ham out of the oven, grateful her crowd was happy with Crock-Pot mac and cheese, bagged salad and rolls for sides. Well, she would have rolls once her teenage son and her father-in-law got back from the store. Damn, she was scatterbrained these days.

  The animal seizure at the cabin had taken a serious chunk out of her Christmas Eve. But when Animal Control had asked if she could step in to help on a hoarder seizure, she hadn’t hesitated. In reality, this was the calm before the storm since she would take in the ones that passed their temperament tests.

  She’d noticed how attached Mary Hannah had already gotten to the female boxer and hoped like hell she wouldn’t get her heart broken if the dog couldn’t be rehabilitated.

  Moments like that, though, drove her to keep pushing through the exhaustion for the good of the animals. As director, she’d turned a home-based rescue group into a full-fledged operation. Soon, she might even be able to make that a salaried position, which would give her more time for the rescue if she didn’t have to teach online classes to pay bills.

  Though, in times like this, she questioned if she could handle the weight of running a full-on shelter in addition to juggling the needs of her family. Like today, knowing she should do more than stand outside and log in animals. Then she’d left before they were finished at the shelter. More guilt piled on top of frustration.

  But she just couldn’t step inside the meth house.

  Lacey tore open the bagged salad with her teeth and dumped half of it into the colander in the sink before turnin
g to tuck the rest back in the fridge. She automatically reached for a bottle of wine, only to stop short. The last thing she needed was a fuzzy head and a weepy, tipsy ramble.

  Still, her Waterford wineglass brought her comfort, so she filled it with water and tossed in a lemon slice. The fine-cut crystal piece was the last one left from her wedding set. A military move had broken the rest, along with too many dreams to count.

  The will to cook Christmas Eve dinner just drained right out of her.

  Sidestepping two beagle puppies curled together by the table, Lacey slid into a chair, took a long sip and tried not to be bitter over the fact she should be celebrating the imminent arrival of her first grandchild with her husband. Her dead husband. Blown up by a roadside bomb in Iraq on what should have been his last deployment before he retired. His blond, lumbering presence had been the center of her world since high school.

  Allen had told her once she would be the hottest grandma on earth. They’d been standing in this kitchen, talking about their children growing up. Dreaming of spending their golden years together. Instead, her husband had died two years ago, leaving her a forty-two-year-old widow. She was forty-four now. Sometimes those two years felt like an eternity.

  She’d fought hard to pull herself through those stages of grief into acceptance, and she was happy now. Truly. She had a grandchild on the way. She even had a boyfriend. Still, she couldn’t deny landmark moments like this reopened the wound.

  Bottom line, she needed to get herself together before Wyatt showed up for supper. He was a good man, and he didn’t flinch when she mentioned Allen’s name, even though she could see it bothered him.

  Stroking her thumb up and down the beaded notches on the stem of the wineglass, she sipped her lemon water again while she stared at the spiral-cut ham that needed shifting to a serving platter. She took another sip, wishing she could just let alcohol dull this day into a warm haze. A dangerous thought. Only since she’d stopped drinking had she realized how close she’d come to being dependent on those bottles of wine.

  She had too many reasons not to drink, too many responsibilities. Starting with her teenage son and father-in-law currently buying those dinner rolls. She glanced at her watch, worry niggling. The Alzheimer’s had gotten worse for her father-in-law, Joshua, once a general in the army. Now he could barely talk, much less remember his family’s names. He’d moved to an assisted living facility three months ago and they visited him every other day, but they brought him home for holidays. Her son, Nathan, offered to help. But was she asking too much of her son when Nathan was just finding his own footing after losing his dad?

  Her phone rang with a country tune Wyatt had programmed into her cell as his ringtone. She pulled back with a watery smile.

  Lacey scooped her cell phone out of her purse and stepped into the mudroom, the tabby cat following, circling around her ankles. “Hello, there, everything going okay?”

  “Hey, babe.” The rumbly drawl of his voice flowed over the phone lines.

  “Hey, you.” She tucked the phone closer to her ear and leaned back against a wall full of dangling leashes. “Where are you? Supper’s almost ready to go on the table.”

  “I’m running behind at the station, but AJ’s going to have to come back here to finish paperwork.” The familiar sounds of the station whispered faintly in the background, with other phone lines ringing along with a shout for him to hurry up. “Go ahead and eat without me. I know that puts a crimp in your plan for us all to be together tonight. Sorry about that.”

  Was it wrong that she was actually relieved not to have him here this evening? To have longer to level out? “No one could have foreseen what happened this afternoon.”

  He stayed silent for so long she almost thought he’d hung up, then he said hesitantly, “Are you hanging in there all right?”

  “Just tired.” And emotional. “Once I eat, I’ll catch my second wind. You just focus on work.”

  “Actually, there’s a reason for my call besides canceling. I wanted to give you an early Christmas present.” He pulled away from the phone for a second and shouted, “Hang on, guys. I’ll be there in a minute. Okay, Lacey, I’m back.”

  “A surprise? Sounds intriguing.” Guilt pinched over her relief that he wouldn’t be here for supper. He was clearly excited about something.

  “Meant to tell you earlier, but got distracted this afternoon. I was talking to my captain yesterday about the station sponsoring a shelter dog for the February competition. The captain really went with the idea and came up with the perfect candidate to be the dog’s handler.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “You may have noticed my cousin’s wired pretty tight. We want him to have one of the shelter dogs and work with Mary Hannah if you can convince her. I know there isn’t time to do a full-out service-dog training, or even complete the therapy-dog training. But isn’t there another level?”

  “Emotional-support animal.”

  “Right, sorry for spacing on the terminology.”

  “You’ve been amazing in how you’ve learned about my world. I appreciate it.” And she did. She just wished she gave as much back to him.

  “This is who you are. I accept you as you are.”

  She knew that, and appreciated what a rare gift that was, but she just wished things weren’t moving so quickly and that she knew how to slow them down. “Um, Sierra and Mike are here, so I need to get dinner on the table. Thanks again for everything.”

  “No problem, babe. I’ll see you in the morning. Love ya.”

  Normally, she said it back. But tonight her throat closed up like she’d taken too big a bite of food.

  Of life.

  She opened her mouth but could only push out, “See you in the morning.”

  Walking into the kitchen, she hung up and tossed the cell phone into her purse. She reached for her Waterford crystal glass beside the Crock-Pot full of macaroni and cheese. If ever she’d needed a drink, tonight was the night for it.

  But Sierra wasn’t the only one who had to watch what she ate and drank for a baby on the way.

  * * *

  WITH SIERRA CLOSE on her heels, Mary Hannah unlocked her front door and pushed inside her studio apartment. Pristine, neat as a pin, and she couldn’t help but think how AJ would tease her for that obsessive organization all the way to her alphabetized spice rack and labeled recycling bins. She craved order more than ever these days.

  Even if she could only make that happen inside this space of her own.

  With pale green walls and refinished hardwood floors, the loft had a large television area and a raised platform for a bed under a skylight to watch the moon and stars at night. She wondered sometimes in the wee hours what it would be like to invite AJ into her bed and look up at the stars with him. To have a man in her life again. To figure out how to help that man trust her once he knew about her past. Hell, how to trust herself.

  The risk was just too much. She drew in a deep, calming breath of the lavender and peppermint scents from her plug-in infusers.

  So that left her with this celibate limbo life, treading water, and she wasn’t sure how to move forward. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to. Not yet. There was a lot to be said for simply not sinking.

  She flicked on the living-area lights. Her cat, Siggy—short for Sigmund Freud—jumped off the back of the slipcovered sofa. She’d walked out of her marriage taking nothing except her furry Persian kitty. She’d rebuilt from the ground up with a shabby-chic-meets-flea-market restoration style.

  She trained dogs, but didn’t have one of her own. Not yet. Someday. For now, she got her dog fix through the rescue. She was lucky to have this place, her job and close friends. Like Sierra.

  Mary Hannah kept her eyes off her friend’s swollen stomach. “Come inside. Sit. Let’s talk. I’m so happy you’re finally here.”

  Sierra took off her boots and l
eft them by the door. “It’s been too long, and phone conversations just aren’t the same.”

  Mary Hannah tossed the blanket on her butcher-block table with the mini Christmas tree. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too, so much.” Sierra hugged Mary Hannah as close as her pregnant stomach would allow.

  The baby kicked between them. Mary Hannah felt that kick all the way to her bruised heart.

  Pasting a smile on her face for her friend, she stepped back. “Just look at you, all glowing and pregnant. Not much longer, right?”

  “Big as a house, I know, and I still have two months to go.” She smoothed her hands over her stomach, glowing with happiness. “It’s a boy. We didn’t want to know, but during the ultrasound he just rolled right over and flashed his boy parts.”

  “Congratulations. I’m happy for you and Mike, truly.”

  And she was. Sierra was the best friend she’d ever had, and yet she’d never told her about the baby she’d lost. Or the addiction problem. Just that she’d gone to grad school after a painful divorce.

  It hurt even thinking about that time in her life. She didn’t know how to push the words free. But she wouldn’t let her own ghosts rob her friend of the joy of celebrating. “Tell me everything about North Carolina and your work with the magazine. I want to hear it all. You talk, I’ll bake. I promised your mom I would bring cookies for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be your taste tester.” Sierra grinned, sitting on one of the white ladder-back chairs around the table. “I can’t eat the batter raw because of the eggs, so I guess I’ll just have to wait until you bring them over tomorrow.”

  Eyes stinging, Mary Hannah turned away under the pretense of setting the oven on to preheat. “I’ve got a recipe for cookie dough that uses almond butter, flaxseeds and carob. I’ll make some for you before you leave.”