by Amy Woods
She winked and grabbed her purse from the file cabinet by her desk, then called to Foggy. “Are you coming, Fogs?”
Foggy stopped pawing at Jane and looked from Hannah to Isaac, then to Avery. He came to a decision and trotted confidently over to Avery’s side, where he apparently intended to stay indefinitely.
“All right, then,” Hannah said, feigning a bruised ego. “Point taken. Avery?” she asked. “Would it be okay if this little guy spent the night with you?”
Avery looked surprised, but then childlike pleasure took over. “Um, yeah, that would definitely be okay.” She clasped her hands together in front of her chest, elated.
“Okay, it’s settled,” Hannah said, grinning at Isaac. “Let me grab his supplies. Next time you come in to train, I’ll pull all of his veterinary records from the computer and print them out for you. He’s been neutered and is up to date on all of his shots, of course, and he’s had regular treatment for fleas and parasites. We use organic stuff as much as we can, and I’ll be sure to give you a supply, you know—if things work out.” She winked, obviously confident that they would.
Hannah set about piling up Foggy’s leash, food and toys, then wished them both a good day and headed out.
Immediately, Avery rushed over and wrapped her arms around Isaac’s waist, taking the breath straight from his body.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
For a second, all he could do was stand there, speechless and unable to move. But then, when the woman didn’t let go, he decided he would. Isaac put his hands on Avery’s back slowly, tentatively, in case she decided she didn’t want to be touched in return, but she didn’t even flinch.
Finally, he wrapped her small form in his embrace and tucked his chin into her hair, feeling, for the first time, that he’d found his perfect fit.
* * *
“Well, hey there, stranger! I haven’t seen you in years, honey, how have you been?” Barb’s voice carried all the way across her popular diner as Avery, Isaac and Foggy—looking adorable in his service dog vest—stepped inside. Avery’s stomach did a little nervous flip, but she took a deep breath and grasped Foggy’s leash tighter as she steadied herself for what she knew would be a big hug and lots of chatter.
“Come here right now and give me a big hug, honey,” Barb said, coming out from behind the front counter. Avery did her best to smile as Isaac tossed her a concerned look. On the way to grab lunch, they’d had a chance to talk about some of the things that Avery felt she struggled with the most, and she’d shared how her heart beat faster and her palms became sweaty whenever someone came too close to her. It wasn’t so bad with people she knew well, but strangers were another thing altogether. She’d had plenty of panic attacks by now to know the signs, and he’d promised to spend the rest of the afternoon teaching Foggy how to block people from getting too near.
As Barb hurried over, Avery concentrated on the red vinyl bar stools and the black-and-white-checkered tiles that she’d seen so often when she’d waitressed for Barb part-time in high school. Focusing on the familiar setting soothed her, and as Barb wrapped her in a mama bear hug, Avery’s pulse finally slowed back to normal.
“I’m so glad to see you, Avery,” Barb said before turning to Isaac. “She was my best waitress of all time.”
“You say that about all your waitresses,” Avery teased, making both Barb and Isaac laugh. “You look fabulous, by the way—haven’t aged a day.” She meant every word. Her former boss’s curly hair had a little more salt to balance out the pepper beautifully, and her blue eyes were as bright as they always had been.
Barb’s cheeks took on a rosy hue even as she playfully swatted Avery with a kitchen towel.
“I’ll let you girls catch up,” Isaac said, squeezing Avery’s shoulder before heading off to put in their order.
Barb and Avery sat at a table and caught up while Isaac waited for their food, and Barb gave Foggy plenty of compliments on his excellent behavior. When their order was up, Barb disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a baggie full of chicken scraps. “For Foggy,” she said. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing fatty.”
“Why don’t you take a break and join us for lunch?” Avery suggested, thrilled at how pleased Barb seemed with the suggestion. “Macy and Tommy and the kids are coming by, too.” She glanced at her watch. “They should be here to meet us any minute now.”
Barb’s eyes sparkled. “I’d love to.”
Warmth spread through Avery’s veins. Normally she wouldn’t have asked anyone to join her for a meal, preferring the company of her family, the only people who wouldn’t judge her, who were accustomed to her edginess. Then again, nothing about that day was normal, was it? She had a dog now, she thought, smiling as she looked down at Foggy, whose paws spread across her feet where he lay, and she had a new friend.
Perhaps more.
There had been a moment back at the training center with Isaac... She was certain he’d almost kissed her, or at least had wanted to, and the thought surprisingly didn’t scare her. She would have let him. She would have loved it.
“There they are!”
Her niece’s high-pitched squeal at the sight of Foggy pulled her from her thoughts and Avery looked up to see Macy, Tommy and the kids crowding through the front door, bringing happy noise with them to the table. She and Barb stood for hugs all around, and Tommy went to help Isaac carry over several trays of food. After Avery introduced everyone to Foggy, whom the kids adored, of course, it was quiet for a bit while they dug into Barb’s amazing fried chicken, the only sound a moan of happiness here and there. And it didn’t take long for the hungry kiddos to finish up and run off to the playscape out back.
“Hang on, wait for Mommy,” Macy called after them. “I better follow those guys,” she said, getting up from the table, but Barb put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back into her chair.
“You stay here and spend time with your family. My staff’s got everything taken care of, the lunch rush is winding down, and I need more time with those little ones. It’s been a while since I got my kid fix.” She smiled around the table before hurrying off behind Sylvia and Ben.
“What’d you two work on this morning?” Tommy asked before taking a sip of his iced tea. Only moments before, his plate had been piled so high Avery could barely see around it, yet Tommy was as thin and solid as a post from all the farm work. It was a tender reminder that he’d taken a rare afternoon off to spend time with her.
“Mostly basic commands,” Avery said, smiling at Isaac.
“These two get along like peanut butter and jelly,” Isaac chimed in. “I think they’re going to be perfect for each other.”
“Anything we can do to help?” Macy asked, setting down her fork to wipe her hands.
Isaac nodded to Avery so she could answer. “Actually, maybe so,” she said, looking back to him for reassurance.
“We do need a third person for an exercise we talked about earlier,” he said. “The idea is to teach Foggy how to act as a sort of barrier between Avery and anyone that might get too close for comfort, like a stranger in a store aisle or out in public, that sort of thing.”
Macy and Tommy nodded, eager to help. Isaac stood and they all followed to an open space near their table. “You remember the sit and stay commands from earlier?” he asked.
“Sure do.”
He smiled at her, his expression proud.
“It’s just a step beyond that. So what you’ll want to do is tell Foggy to sit and stay in front of you, but facing away from you. It’s a little tricky at first, but you’ll get it.”
He showed Avery how to circle a treat around in her hand until Foggy was facing out from her front. It took a few tries, but Foggy was a great sport, and eventually they got it down and practiced several times to reinforce the move.
“All right, so now what we need to do is have one of you—” he waved at her brother “—Tommy, you’d be good since you’re larger. Come up to Avery and stand a bit too close like you’re in a crowded spot.”
Tommy moved in, holding his arms out like a zombie, and they all burst into laughter when Foggy began barking at him.
“Thank you, Foggy, but that’s enough,” Isaac said, and Foggy quieted down, keeping a side eye on her oh-so-threatening, goofy brother. “See, he’s already got the right idea,” Isaac said, chuckling, “but we need to redirect it a little.”
They spent the next several minutes practicing having Foggy stand in front of her to prevent Tommy from getting too near, applying the “block” command when he performed the move correctly, so the dog would have a clear indicator of what to do if a similar situation arose, like in a grocery store line or on a bus or plane. Isaac also showed her that she could just have her pup sit in front of her, facing her, so that she could focus on him as a barrier between her and anybody else while she did some grounding and breathing exercises to calm down. It wasn’t long before they had it down pat, and Tommy and Macy had fallen in love with her new furry friend.
As they chatted happily, Avery took a moment to enjoy the sweet little family surrounding her, as well as Isaac and Foggy, and her heart swelled.
She’d missed so much, had spent so long in darkness that she hadn’t been sure she would ever again see light. But this...this was a glimmer. It was like waking up from a long, fitful sleep.
She knew she still had such a long, long way to go. But she had to start somewhere, and, as she let herself soak in the enormity of the blessings surrounding her, she realized a simple afternoon spending time with the people she cared about the most was as good a place as any.
Chapter Nine
When they visited the park a week later, Avery had the strong sense that if Isaac and Foggy were not at her sides like two guards, she couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t have just run away. The noises, colors, smells and all the chaotic stuff of life surrounded her as if she’d walked into a theme park on spring break opening day.
Gripping Isaac’s large, steady hand in one of hers and Foggy’s leash in the other, she closed her eyes and then opened them again, this time forcing herself to focus on one thing at a time.
There, beneath her feet, was the vibrant, soft Bermuda grass, a hardy green carpet formed from millions of thin, silky blades. She lifted her eyes and, straight ahead, they landed on the long, oval duck pond in the center of the park, gravel paths surrounding it like wagon wheel spokes. Above, the sky was the cobalt color of a robin’s feathers, accented here and there with cottony clouds and glints of golden sunbeams. Several yards to her right, on the crest of a small hill, a young family enjoyed a picnic lunch consisting of what looked like chicken-salad sandwiches, dill-potato salad and spongy slices of pink strawberry cake adorning plates strewn across a red-and-white-gingham blanket.
The woman fed grapes to the small boy, who released peals of magic laughter each time she circled a plump purple orb round and round before popping it into his little round mouth, and a handsome man sat behind them, one hand at the small of the woman’s back, the other capturing mother and child with his cell phone camera.
Down the path, an elderly couple strolled hand in hand, their papery fine skin linking them together as their matching silver hair reflected light from the sun’s rays. College-aged men and women played a loud and happy game down at the tennis courts.
When she could pause and grant herself the patience required to take things in, one at a time, the barrage of anxiety that resulted from overstimulation subsided and the park was just a park, not a combat zone loaded with hidden dangers.
It was home.
This wasn’t the place that had damaged her and turned her into a hypervigilant, fearful version of her former self. Instead, it was the one she’d fought for—imperfect, but full of hope and beauty—and freedom.
And, if she could only relearn to embrace it as her own, retrain herself to know that it belonged to her, she could keep going.
She understood now, after months of therapy, that her PTSD would never go away; there was no cure for it. It would always be her silent enemy, lurking in the corners of her life like a predator, waiting for a weak moment to pounce and bring her down again. It would simply be a part of her forever. But hope wasn’t lost, and she refused to focus on it, to give it strength. And she could develop the skills necessary for coping with the symptoms; she would survive. If she were lucky, she could even prevail.
Isaac’s hand was on her shoulder then, its warmth reaching the skin through her T-shirt like a rich balm. “Okay there, sweetheart?” he asked, squeezing slightly.
Her lips curved upward at the buttery-smoothness of his voice and the term of endearment he’d used so casually.
“Yes, I am,” she answered simply, not needing to say more.
Since they’d met, she and he had exchanged plenty of words, and talking and listening to him was, she found, a surprisingly welcome pleasure. But even more than that, she enjoyed their silences, those quiet moments of peaceful company, of just being together, that stretched out between them and required no dressing.
Now, though, she wanted to talk.
There was an itch in her chest and throat that she needed to scratch with words, with truth about the pain she’d suffered and had not, until now, had the courage to share with anyone—not even, if she were honest, herself.
It was time to open up.
She didn’t care that the person she felt most comfortable with was someone she’d met only recently. If war had taught her anything good, it was that time was not the most valuable or the most important factor in a bond forged between two people. Rather, Avery thought, it was trust, which sometimes took years to build, yes, but could also be earned in mere moments, in small or large actions that communicated: I am here for you; I will not abandon you.
Isaac had given her that when he’d taken her into his home, fed her and offered sanctuary from her living nightmare. He’d done it by introducing her to Foggy, by intuiting that the dog would be a good companion for her and a protective layer between her and the world.
She could open her heart to this man, and if it bled, he would not startle at the droplets; he wouldn’t run from her darkness. She didn’t need months to know that much was true. She’d been given a gift in his kindness, in his generosity, and she was thankful.
Avery turned to face him and as she did, he cupped her face in the hand that had been resting on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting the heat of his skin seep into her cool cheek.
Wanting him to kiss her, to have him pull her near and cover her lips with his own, but knowing it wasn’t yet time for that, Avery smiled and took his hand in her own, then led him across the grass to the duck pond. They sat together on the limestone wall that surrounded the pool of water. Foggy and Jane sat, too, at their feet, but their little doggie bottoms wriggled impatiently as they suppressed their urge to bark and chase the blue and green birds floating along the liquid surface.
“I never killed anyone over there,” Avery said, her voice gravelly and so low she thought perhaps Isaac hadn’t heard her.
He was silent for a full minute before responding, “You didn’t have to tell me that.”
Avery shook her head. “I did. I did have to tell you that.” She turned and met his eyes. “It’s what everyone wants to know, what everyone’s thinking when they see me in town or talk about me behind my back, trying to figure out what happened to me over there. Sometimes, I wish they would just ask.”
Isaac nodded. “Well, if it helps you to tell me, then I’m so glad you did. I’m glad you can trust me enough for that, though we haven’t known each other long enough for me to expect it of you, and you never have to tell me any more than yo
u feel comfortable with.”
“I know that,” she said. “It was my choice to tell you, and yes, it does help me to get that off my chest.”
She looked out at the water and ran a finger over a long crack in the stone underneath her thigh. “I think people might believe I’m still human if they knew that about me. They might be less afraid to speak to me and say hello when they pass me on the street the way they used to, before I left and became someone else.”
Avery could feel his gaze on her as she kept her eyes down, not sure if she wanted to look into his just then.
“You don’t owe anyone any explanation, Avery. You have the right to say or not say what you choose. And you did not become someone else. You may have added some terrible experiences to your résumé, but you are still Avery Abbott, and the people who love you know that.”
“I’m not so sure sometimes, but I don’t blame them, either.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just certain things have changed. At my job—my old job, I guess—for example. I was a great employee for years before I left, and I was thrilled when they wanted me back at the hospital after I came home. I was always at my best, always one hundred percent accurate in my diagnoses and medication calculations, often even more than the doctors I worked under. I never missed a day, I won awards and patients seemed to like me. Then, one day, something—I still have no idea what—triggered a flashback, and, well, you know how that looks. Anyway, after all of that time, I made one mistake and I lost everything. And I know that I scared the patient who was there when it happened. I can understand why they thought it best to put me on leave, but it still hurt.”
She closed her eyes, remembering that tense, painful conversation with her boss. Avery couldn’t help but feel betrayed.
“And with Tommy. The last time I had an episode like I did recently, he made it clear that if I couldn’t get better, I couldn’t stay in his home.” The words caught in her throat and she struggled with the effort it took to say more.