Rescue Me

by Catherine Mann

  “Come on, girl. I thought you wanted this. Chew the damn thing to bits if you want. I’ll just get a new one. No big deal.”

  Her head tipped again inside the cone, and she plunked down onto her butt, watching him, then swiveling her face to the television, then back to him, then the TV again, as if waiting for something to happen.

  Waiting for him to turn on the flat screen? Doubtful, but easy enough to test for the hell of it. He dropped into his recliner, turned on the television and started channel-surfing.

  Holly relaxed back on the floor, resting her head on her outstretched paws. Her ears up and cranking forward inside the plastic cone like radar dishes pointed toward the screen.

  “You like TV?” he asked, still half certain he must be mistaken, but the proof was there in front of him. A relaxed Holly for the first time since she’d arrived. He’d watched TV before, but had he just been too keyed up to notice her reaction? He’d been so focused on training her. “Maybe we do have something in common after all. Mary Hannah’s going to be so proud of us for figuring this out.”

  Holly’s nubby little tail wagged.

  A surge of victory pumped through him. He was getting hyped to think about sharing the success with a woman he swore he couldn’t pursue. A woman he also shouldn’t pursue since his career hung on the success of training this dog.

  Still, he found himself reaching for the phone to tell Mary Hannah that Holly was a big fan of Jeopardy!

  Twelve

  Winning!

  —HOLLY

  NOW THAT THE holidays and New Year’s had passed, Mary Hannah couldn’t deny her competitive spirit was ramping into high gear, which sent her need to organize into overdrive. She sat on the barn floor, plastic bins lined up in front of her. She pulled the freshly washed “adopt me” vests from the laundry basket and sorted them by size.

  Volunteers filled the space, clumping in groups, some working with the animals and others focused on tasks for the Valentine Mutt Makeover competition. Even the dogs that weren’t competing could still attend and be shown. Longtime volunteer Debbie brushed a collie while Lacey printed out new forms. Sierra propped her feet on a footstool and untangled leashes. The echoes of barking and the grooming dryer filled the wide-open space.

  Sure, she was overcompensating for the fact she was nervous, and not only about the competition. But also about how it was bringing her and AJ closer. She could still hear the triumph in his voice when he’d called to tell her that Holly was a fan of Jeopardy! She’s struggled not to laugh, because truly it was so endearing. Seeing that new side to the brooding cop definitely flipped her world. And he kept right on upending her preconceived notions with glimpses of his protective nature and patience.

  “Lacey . . .” Mary Hannah pointed to her paisley tote. “If you look under my bag, I brought an accordion folder that has been labeled for adoption applications, fund-raising brochures and animal-care handouts.”

  Debbie set aside the dog brush and pushed to her feet. “I’ll bring it over to you. I need to stretch my legs anyway before they fall asleep.”

  Lacey glanced up from the computer, swiping a wrist over her forehead. “It’s clear who keeps this place organized, and it’s not me.”

  Mary Hannah folded an extra-large vest neatly. “We all have our roles here, and mine just happens to be making sure all food donations are arranged by expiration date so no bag goes bad.”

  Laughing, Ghita, a volunteer from a local vet clinic, hid her face behind the camera, documenting the day for Facebook. “Wanna come sort my cabinets?”

  “For a small fee donated to Second Chance Ranch.” A blast of chilly air hit Mary Hannah on the back, and she glanced over her shoulder to find . . . “Dahlia?”

  Lacey pushed her chair back from the corner desk. “Dahlia, are you scoping out the competition?”

  The über-chic shelter director strode deeper into the barn over to the office area. “As long as one of us wins, I’m happy, because if you take home the prize, you can take in more animals and I know I’m your very favorite shelter director to work with, Lacey McDaniel.”

  “That you are.” Lacey hooked arms with her. “Come see how the two pug sisters you sent here are doing. They both had their eye surgery for the ingrown eyelashes and look fantastic now—”

  “Mom”—Sierra passed over a fistful of untangled leashes—“do you mind if I turn up the heat? It’s freezing in here.”

  Dahlia took the leashes from her and draped them over the hooks. “That’s the first time I’ve heard a pregnant woman complain of being cold. It’s usually the other way around. Right, Ghita?”

  “Sweetie”—Ghita lowered the camera, her shirt shifting to reveal the tattoo with all her grandchildren’s names—“you forget that not all of us are in our twenties. When I hit menopause, I never knew when the next hot flash would hit. It’s best to keep things on the cooler side.”

  Debbie resumed brushing the collie again. “I call hot flashes ‘my own personal summers.’”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Ghita set aside the camera by the computer. “I was in the grocery-store freezer section, reached in for a Christmas turkey and oh Lord, that blast of cold air felt so good I just stood there, camped out so long the manager stopped by to ask if I needed help.”

  Mary Hannah snapped a lid on the container for the extra-large vests. “Lacey’s a little young for menopause.”

  And the conversation was clearly making Lacey uncomfortable.

  Ghita shook her head. “Plenty of women start in their midforties.”

  Lacey went paler.

  Mary Hannah shot to her feet. “We can debate menopause ages all day long, but I know one thing for sure.”

  Lacey swallowed hard. “What’s that?”

  She struggled for something, any distraction, and found that as always her thoughts gravitated to AJ. “The guys are in the garage making some new agility apparatus for the competition.”

  Ghita grabbed her jacket. “Well then, we need to shuffle our workspace. A woman’s never too old to check out the magnificent sight of fine men playing with power tools and oozing testosterone.”

  * * *

  AJ GUIDED THE power saw along the PVC pipe, right over the lines marked and measured. Beyond helping the rescue and the competition, he could work out the frustration over seeing Mary Hannah. Daily.

  Tempted. Daily.

  Man-cave time was definitely in order today, complete with the scent of sweat, motor oil and power tools in use. All this “getting in touch with his feelings” was damn exhausting. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who felt this way.

  Mike reviewed the instructions for the bar jump while Nathan assembled some kind of nylon tunnel. Gramps was sitting by the workbench. He was there for the weekend, but the retired general was in one of his nonverbal, Alzheimer’s moods today. Still, he seemed to enjoy just watching, with Trooper and Holly asleep at his feet.

  AJ set the last of the PVC onto the worktable by Mike. “Thanks for the help building these, although I’m not sure we’re ever going to get Holly through that tunnel.”

  “Happy to help. Even happier to get outside,” Mike said. “Don’t get me wrong. This rescue is great. Trooper is the best. But that’s a lot of people in one house.”

  Nathan looked up from hooking together the nylon sections. “You’re not kidding.”

  Mike turned over the instructions. “Could you pass the hammer?”

  “Sure.” AJ unhooked the hammer from the pegboard. “Are you ready for the whole fatherhood gig?”

  “Yeah, I think I am.” He held the hammer, staring at the tool with his brow furrowed. “My own father wasn’t much of a role model to go by, but I like to think I picked up a lot from Colonel McDaniel.”

  Nathan went still, the tunnel rolling away from him. “Dad was a good guy. You would have liked him, AJ.”

&n
bsp; “I’m sorry I never got to meet him,” he said, and now that he thought about it, he realized this was Colonel McDaniel’s man cave. No wonder Mike held that hammer with a kind of reverence. The tools held an echo of the person.

  The garage was organized. Different from the more chaotic approach that reigned in the house and rescue. No doubt something had been moved around in here, but there was still an order and calm about the place that he knew somehow had been set into motion a long time ago.

  Mike’s thumb worked along the hammer’s handle absently. “What about you? Ever think of settling down?”

  Yeah, and that hadn’t gone well for him. “I just got my first dog. One step at a time.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow. “So you’re keeping Holly?”

  “For now,” he said noncommittally. Coming to this town was about streamlining life. Not making it more complicated.

  Or so he’d planned.

  The General stretched his arms overhead, old joints popping. “Time has a way of slipping by, boys. Don’t sow those wild oats for too long.” His blue eyes glinted with a hint of mischief chasing away the glazed look. “Well, unless they’re really good oats, in which case, always remember to wrap your rascal.”

  Nathan shook his head, muttering, “He can’t remember my name, but he always remembers to tell me about condoms.”

  Gramps barked with laughter. Apparently his hearing was just fine. “Priorities, son. Priorities.” He tipped his head toward the feminine voices drifting from the office. “Oh, my wife must be . . . back?”

  Nathan’s face fell, and Mike’s hand went to rest on the teenager’s shoulder.

  AJ grabbed one of the wooden base posts and a piece of sandpaper. He knelt beside the General, his hand falling to scratch Holly’s ears. “Sir, would you mind helping me sand this?”

  The older man’s face lit up. “Yes, yes . . .”

  His voice trailed off, but he took the piece of plywood in his gnarled hands, rubbing the sandpaper along in smooth repetitive motions as the board rested on his legs. The dust swept off the side of the board with each sanding stroke.

  And while AJ didn’t consider himself to be a mystical guy, he couldn’t escape the sense that there was something about this place. The ranch. The animals. The people. Mary Hannah and Holly.

  He’d left one family and found another.

  And that scared him. A lot. But not enough to make him leave.

  * * *

  THE NEW PLACE where I lived was like nirvana. So much so it was difficult to trust it could be real. I was in a cabin, but it was nothing like the meth-house cabin. AJ’s place smelled like fragrant wood burning in the fireplace instead of burning drugs.

  It smelled clean.

  Mary Hannah said it was messy, but I figured her standards were little too high. AJ put his dishes in the dishwasher. His washed clothes stayed in laundry hampers, and the dirties were in a nice pile in the corner of his room. Sure, he tossed around magazines and he made his bed by tossing the covers over the pillows rather than doing something Mary Hannah called “hospital corners.”

  Hospital corners sounded overrated to me. I liked how AJ tossed a blanket on the floor beside his bed just for me.

  And the food.

  Holy son of a mutt, the food here was good. He fed me grain-free kibble so my skin didn’t itch anymore. AJ even dropped treats in my bowl and around the house. When Mary Hannah wasn’t around he let me have people food, which I really liked. I was almost willing to take it out of his hand.

  For now, though, we had a truce. He left it on the floor beside him. I would lie there to eat it as long as he didn’t touch me, and we got to watch television together. I wondered sometimes, though, what it would have been like to sit on the sofa or put my head on the footrest of his recliner because feet carried the essence of a human’s smell.

  How ironic, huh? I finally had a real life, a good life, and I was too scared to make the most of it there at first.

  But I kept trying to give back to them by helping them realize they were meant to be together. Like how they thought I was clumsy because I kept getting under their feet, but that was really to help them bump into each other. When they touched, pheromones filled the air.

  I also worked my stubby tail off trying to figure out what Mary Hannah and AJ wanted from me all the way to New Year’s and into the week after. Because when they were happy, that made me happy. They’d given me everything, so much more than I ever knew existed. I owed them all my loyalty.

  So over those two weeks while I worked hard to do what they wanted, I figured out a few things of my own. A car ride was better than drugs because of all the scents that came through the vents. Treats taken from a human’s hand tasted better because of the hint of salt from their skin. But the best part of my new world? Running full-out in the snow without a chain to stop me, the wind against my face and sun shining bright.

  They told me I would learn more things like commands and how to fetch. They’re all amazing, easy joys for me now, but each so difficult to attempt back then.

  I didn’t understand how locked into myself I’d become until the world began expanding. More than just new scents. More than just my dreams of a honeysuckle world. I’d lived in that cabin with only brief trots in the yard. That had been it. The sum of my existence. Television showed me the world, but that’s not the same as experiencing and witnessing firsthand.

  Like tipping my nose to sniff the scent of peppermint mixing with the salty guy scent I knew well from sleeping on top of AJ’s laundry when he went to work.

  They were attracted to each other. Seriously. No question. I happen to be an expert on such things even though I’ve been spayed. I knew all about mating from my litters.

  And I was absolutely certain Mary Hannah and AJ wouldn’t be able to resist much longer.

  Thirteen

  Competition can be a good thing. If only I knew the rules of the game.

  —HOLLY

  SHIVERING, MARY HANNAH tugged her black knit hat over her ears as she walked down the steps to meet the Roberts family for a training session with Barkley. They’d called her from the front security gate. She watched as they drove down the long, icy drive in their new van designed for a wheelchair.

  The past couple of weeks had been a hectic rush of seeing clients during office hours, plus working in the evening and on weekends to prepare Holly and Barkley for the My Furry Valentine Mutt Makeover. They had a month left, and Holly was having nothing to do with the agility course.

  Just seeing her happy and playful, though? Mary Hannah found that to be a bigger victory than jumping over any PVC pipe.

  Her snow boots crunched into the snow at the base of the stairs. The Saturday-morning sun crested, reflecting noon rays off the fresh dusting of snow. She would begin the training session outside and finish inside the barn. While Holly was already living at AJ’s, Barkley had been staying at the Second Chance Ranch until today. Declan Roberts had been released from the hospital yesterday, and this afternoon, he and Callie would officially take their foster dog home and continue with training in their house until the competition.

  She hoped. Declan was still proving difficult.

  She’d been so certain this would get through to him. The patient she’d paired with Thumbelina had made amazing progress once the sweet, goofy pit-bull pup entered the equation.

  The Robertses’ van stopped in the parking area beside the red barn, Callie driving. The side door of the vehicle opened automatically. Declan sat in his wheelchair, the lift sliding out and lowering him. He’d been fitted with a prosthetic arm last week. The leg would come later, once he had better use of the new arm for balance. But he could make only so much progress if his morale stayed at rock bottom.

  Henry unhooked the restraints on his car seat and clambered into the front and out the door, swaddled in a hooded snowsuit. He tore off w
ith the energy of a four-year-old forced to spend too much time indoors in winter. He flung himself on the ground and swept his arms and legs back and forth, making a snow angel.

  Callie stepped around to her husband as he maneuvered the electric controls to the lift until it settled on the ground. His chair was battery powered, and he steered it forward with his hand, the wheels bumping along the handicapped parking area, shoveled clear, then onto the salted walkway. It wasn’t easy or quick, but he managed, his jaw tight, his eyes fiery with stung pride. Her profession made it too easy to read people’s thoughts through their eyes.

  Watching him struggle was painful but necessary. He had to learn independence. But the tougher part for him seemed to be accepting that he needed to depend on his family as well. Allow them to help, to feel connected, to be a part of their family’s journey to health.

  Tucking inside the barn door, she waved hello to a couple of volunteers before leaning over a fenced area to scoop up Barkley. The cuddly Cairn was the perfect little student, smart, trainable and, most important, empathetic. The dog was a natural. Mary Hannah just prayed that once the competition was past, they would decide to adopt him and allow Barkley to continue his training to become a fully certified service dog.

  She stepped back out of the warm barn into the crisp winter air. Henry was under a tree now, making his fourth snow angel. His giggles filled the air along with barks from a couple of dogs in the play yard. Between Sierra’s pregnancy and this little boy, Mary Hannah’s heart was getting a serious stomping. And she felt guilty as hell over that. Especially since Sierra and Mike would be returning home tomorrow and there’d barely been time to visit—or maybe she’d been dodging them on purpose.

  Totally unfair of her to do. She had to put that vulnerability with children aside when working with the Roberts family. Deep breaths.

  Declan powered his chair to the side area they used for training. “Henry, are you going to help or not, son?”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy pushed to his feet, the puffy snowsuit making balance a precarious thing. “I just gotta get the bag of dog treats outta the van.”