“I’m not surprised. Now, for the tricky part,” Hannah said quietly. “Convincing her to go back to school tomorrow. And waiting for more night terrors—or not. I’ll be praying that Cole will be all right.”
“I was just heading out, but do you want me to stay a while longer?” he asked with a self-deprecating smile. “Not that I have any experience with either problem, but I could offer moral support.”
“We’ll manage. Could I offer you a cup of decaf or cocoa for the road?” she asked lightly. “Or leftover turkey? I’d be very happy to send some with you if you have a fridge.”
“I’ve got just a tiny fridge, so I think I’ll pass. Thanks, though.” He reached for an envelope on the mantel and handed it to her. “This was taped to your front door when we all got home. Addressed to you, of course.”
She slid a finger under the flap and withdrew a single sheet of paper. “Apparently the fire chief—who is also the local fire inspector—came out today. This is the report I can give to the insurance company.”
“What did he decide?”
“Molly will be so glad to hear this. She was worried that the fire was her fault, because she had moved the chicken’s panel heater. But Bill figures it was an electrical short at the other end of the barn. Frayed wires, probably thanks to mice.”
“So you shouldn’t have any issues with the insurance coverage.”
“I don’t think so. It should just be a matter of getting the check and waiting for warm enough weather to start building another small barn.” She paced the length of the living room then turned back. “I’ve had to make do with that old building, but this time, I want to work on plans and make it right. Clean, spacious, bright, with better exercise runs, for starters.”
“A facility like that would cost many times what you’ll get from your insurance claim.”
“But it would be a start, anyway.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll have to talk to the other women who run home-based rescues like mine. Maybe we can try once again to stir up interest for a permanent shelter in town. Get the city council involved. Fund-raise and all that.”
He smiled. “I believe you have more energy than anyone I ever met.”
She laughed at that. “Energy, but not a whole lot of money. And I’m afraid I have an enemy on the city council. But it doesn’t hurt to dream, right?”
Something sad flashed in his eyes. “No, I guess not.”
She walked him to the front door. “Thanks again for taking the kids this afternoon. I have friends I could’ve called, but I didn’t know if Molly and Cole would be comfortable with anyone except you. Not yet.”
He lifted a shoulder dismissively. “No problem. They’re why I’m in Wisconsin, and I’m glad to be with them any time I can. Never hesitate to ask.”
“About that...” She bit her lower lip. “I wonder if I could ask you for another favor?”
“What do you need?”
“That new dog needs a ride to the vet clinic tomorrow morning. I called Darcy—the vet—tonight on her cell, and she said she could fit us in at nine, but I have appointments starting at nine. I hate to wait till the weekend.”
“No problem. Anything else?”
“Maybe. I don’t know when it might happen, but there might be an inspection of my rescue facilities sometime soon. The inspector probably won’t give me any advance warning, but when he arrives he’ll need access to my garage. So at some point, if I can’t get away from the clinic, I might need to ask you to go unlock it for him.”
“No problem with that, either.”
“Super. I’ll show you where the spare key is. And, Ethan...I’m sorry I was so testy about where you were with the kids. I never should have assumed...”
“It’s been a long time since we were together, Hannah, and we no longer know each other that well. People change. And it’s no secret that our goals are polar opposites when it comes to the kids.”
“Still...”
“No, your first priority is them, and that’s how it should be,” he said gravely. “So I’d say you were simply acting on instinct to keep them safe.”
“But I didn’t mean to—”
He cut her off. “Don’t overthink this, Hannah. Just forget it.”
Their eyes met. Locked. And then he gave her a faint, sad smile. “I’ve made mistakes in my life. A lot of them. But the more I’m here, the more I realize that my worst one was when I let you go.”
* * *
He’d imagined himself doing any number of things on Tuesday while the kids were in school and Hannah was working at the health clinic.
Holding the leash of an emaciated, cowering dog and feeling the glares of the other three clients in a vet’s waiting room was not one of them.
They had a right to look outraged at Belle’s condition. He felt exactly the same way. But if they only knew how long it had taken him to beg and cajole this dog from her pen to his car, they’d be awarding him a medal.
As it was, he was pretty sure the lady in the corner chair, with a Westie as white and pristine as fresh snow, was surreptitiously calling the cops to have him arrested for animal abuse.
“Come here, sweet girl,” he murmured. Belle was at the end of her leash, under the chair, as if she expected him to attack at any moment. She clearly wasn’t planning to budge.
The judgmental stares aside, he’d felt his heart clench painfully at his first good view of her this morning. Her bony frame and the open sores on every bony prominence made him long to make her last owner regret he’d ever been born. What kind of person could do something like this to a helpless dog?
“Mr. Williams?” A young woman in a pink uniform with KayCee on her name badge appeared in the doorway leading to the exam rooms. Her jaw dropped. “Oh, my goodness. Hannah called and told us about this one. But I never...” She took a deep breath. “Will she lead?”
“Not really. I can only get her to move along with bits of turkey.” He gave the girl a wry smile. “Hannah just happened to have some leftovers, and I figured it was important to get her here one way or another.”
“Let me try.” She took the leash from him and crooned to Belle. She reached under the chair to pet her head, but the dog jerked back in abject fear.
Ethan offered her the Ziploc bag of tiny bits of turkey. “This works better. I promise.”
“I read that turkey is toxic to dogs,” the woman with the Westie announced, her eyes narrowed.
KayCee tipped her head toward an array of handouts on one of the end tables. “Turkey skin and fat can cause pancreatitis in dogs, and they can choke on the bones. But our vet says a little bit of the white meat is okay.”
Ethan felt the glares of the other clients boring into his back as he, Belle and the vet tech slowly made their way down the hall, though by now Belle had planted her butt on the floor and was leaning back with all her might as she was being towed toward an alcove with a scale.
She feebly resisted before stepping onto the platform. The digital screen read 24.4 pounds.
“That can’t be good,” Ethan muttered.
The girl jotted the results on her clipboard. She ushered them into the next exam room. “Dr. Leighton will be in shortly. Just have a seat.”
Here, amid the scent of sanitizer and the barking of dogs from somewhere in the back of the building, Belle seemed to decide Ethan was her only ally in this frightening place.
She pressed her bony side tightly against his leg, her breathing fast and shallow and her head bowed in abject defeat. He ran his hand lightly along her back in long, slow strokes, then began rubbing gently behind her ears.
“What a good girl you are,” he soothed. “In no time at all, you’ll be romping with those other dogs at Hannah’s place and sleeping on someone’s bed.”
Molly’s, he guessed. When Hannah had
called him this morning about the vet appointment, she’d said that she’d found Molly out in the garage this morning, curled up by the dog’s pen.
A thirtysomething woman in a lab coat, with shiny brown hair twisted into a knot on the top of her head, stepped into the room.
“Goodness,” she exclaimed as she surveyed the quivering dog. “Where have you been, poor thing?”
“Did Hannah explain when she called?”
“Yes, she did.” The woman extended her hand. “Dr. Leighton. You must be Ethan?”
He nodded.
“And this must be Belle.” She crouched and offered the back of her hand for Belle to consider, then ran gentle hands over the dog’s emaciated frame. Whining, Belle cringed under her touch.
“She looks like she might be a springer spaniel cross, maybe with some shepherd in the mix. Without doing a DNA test, we can’t really be sure, but that doesn’t matter. She’s a good twenty pounds under weight and if she’d gone much longer she would’ve gone into irreversible organ failure.”
“Can you write down what she should be eating?”
The vet nodded. “Hannah has been through this before, but yes—I’ll send home instructions.”
“And those awful sores on her neck and hips?”
“Looks like her choke chain collar was too tight and became imbedded in her neck, and those are pressure sores over her hip bones. She must have been chained someplace where she had little or no bedding and hardly any space to move. Terrible.”
Ethan winced. “Also, Hannah wants you to check for an identification chip.”
“The tech can do that in a bit. In fact, we need to keep Belle for a few days. That collar has to be surgically removed. Believe it or not, she’s a young dog. I’d guess around two.” Dr. Leighton shook her head firmly. “Everything you see can be fixed. She deserves a far better life, and Hannah and I are going to make sure she gets it.”
As if Belle understood the vet’s tone and body language, if not the words, her tail began to slowly wag.
Ethan watched as the vet continued her exam, and realized he was learning about more than just Leighton’s caring attitude.
His stay in Wisconsin was also revealing just how much he had misjudged Hannah all those years ago.
From choosing a challenging career where she could help people every single day, to her dedication to saving abused and abandoned animals, the depths of Hannah’s own compassionate heart were far greater than he ever would have guessed.
Coupled with her love and protectiveness toward the children, he now knew she’d be a formidable opponent indeed, if their custody battle ended up in a court of law.
Chapter Twelve
Molly trudged out to Hannah’s Subaru, her trademark sulk firmly in place. She joined Cole in the backseat without a word.
“So, how was your second day at school?”
“I hate this place and I want to go home. To Texas.”
Was that what she truly wanted? Would she really be happier living with Ethan, after all—or was she simply longing for the days before her parents died?
The children’s happiness was paramount, but there were so many uncertainties in that equation that Hannah didn’t even want to think about it. Not yet.
Molly had fallen asleep last night before Hannah had made it to her bedroom, so there had been no chance for a much-needed discussion. And with the return of Cole’s night terrors, Molly had awakened in the middle of the night, and then tossed and turned.
Lack of sleep hadn’t made the child’s day any better.
Molly picked at a loose thread on her backpack strap. “How is Belle?”
“She’s at the vet clinic right now.”
Molly jerked upright, her eyes wide with alarm. “They wouldn’t—They couldn’t—”
“They’re taking good care of her, I promise. They’re giving her IV fluids and antibiotics, and they’ve started treating the ulcers.”
“I don’t believe you. Maybe they’ll decide to put her to sleep.” Molly’s lower lip trembled. “I want to see her. Can we go there? Right now?”
“That happened with our kitty,” Cole mumbled. “She went to the vet and never came back.”
Oh, dear. Hannah turned her SUV toward the vet clinic. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Cole. Was she very old and sick?”
Cole shook his head. “She couldn’t come to our new ’partment so Dad sent her to heaven.”
Instead of a shelter? Hannah had a feeling there was more to the story, but maybe Dee just hadn’t explained it very well.
“There might have been a very good reason, sweetie. Sometime animals are suffering too much, and it’s more kind to let them go.”
“No,” Cole insisted with a stubborn shake of his head. “She couldn’t come to the ’partment when we moved. It wasn’t fair.”
If he was right, Hannah totally agreed. “Well, just to show you that Belle is receiving good care, we’re going to the clinic. Okay? It’s just a few blocks away.”
Molly and Cole sat silently in the backseat until Hannah pulled into the parking lot, but they both beat her into the clinic.
Hannah followed them inside. “I have a couple of kids here who are worried about Belle—the dog I sent in this morning. Can we see her?”
Marilyn, the sixtysomething receptionist, shook her head. “I’m sorry—”
“No!” Molly screamed. “You killed her?”
“Of course not,” Marilyn said gently. “The vet is doing some surgery on her right now, but she should be fine.”
Molly looked up at Hannah with a stricken expression. “I want to see her,” she begged. “Please. What if she dies? I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
This wasn’t just about the dog, Molly realized with a pang of sorrow. It was about life and loss and grief that had to weigh on these kids every single day.
The parents they loved had left one day and never returned. How did a child ever recover from that?
“About how long until Belle is finished?”
“Maybe a half hour, but I’m not sure.” Marilyn lowered her voice. “Darcy made sure it was the last appointment of the day, just in case it took longer. Imbedded choke chain. Deep.”
Hannah swallowed hard then summoned a cheery smile. “Okay, kids, it’s going to be a long while, and even then Belle will need to recover from anesthesia. Let’s walk down Main Street.”
“I want to stay.” Molly plopped down on the nearest chair.
“Molly, there’s nothing to do here, and it will be a long wait. Why don’t we check out Keeley’s cookies at her antiques store, then we can stop at the Christmas Shoppe. I’d like you both to pick out some new decorations for our Christmas tree so we can go out and cut our tree tomorrow. By then it will be time to come back and see Belle.”
Feeling as if she were being followed by two reluctant ducklings, Hannah headed down Main Street. The sky was overcast with the feeling of snow in the air and dusk was falling earlier every passing day. All of the storefronts were decorated and brightly lit. Overhead, Christmas lights were twinkling on every lamppost.
At Keeley’s store, the stained-glass lamps and sparkling antique chandeliers inside cast a welcoming glow onto the sidewalk. Hannah ushered the kids into the store. “This is where your pretty stained-glass bedside lamp came from, Molly. Keeley gave it to you as a gift.”
Molly nodded.
From behind the cash register Keeley waved and pointed to the table with a coffeemaker, a pitcher of ice water and an array of decorated Christmas cookies on a crystal platter covered with a glass dome, then continued to wait on a customer.
“I don’t suppose this would be your favorite kind of store, Cole. But would you like to look around or would you rather sit at the ice-cream table by the window and have your c
ookies?”
Cole zoomed to the window and settled on a wrought-iron chair. He looked up in awe at a vintage lamp with cartoon figures chasing each other around the rim of the shade.
After wandering aimlessly through the store, Molly joined her brother, her gaze fixed on a two-foot Christmas tree adorned with antique decorations in the corner. The sadness in her eyes was palpable.
“I love Christmas,” Hannah said as she brought over the platter and two paper plates.
Cole tentatively picked a Santa cookie and looked up at her.
“Aren’t these pretty? I’m sure it’s okay if you want two.”
Molly halfheartedly picked the cookie closest to her on the platter. Her gaze veered back to the tree. “It’s not like Christmas this year,” she said softly. “Not the same at all.”
Hannah set the platter back on the serving table and brought over two waters and a black coffee. “I don’t suppose it will be. But we will always have Christmas. Every year, we celebrate the birth of the Christ child, just as you did before, and that will never, ever, change. I promise. And every year, we’ll have presents under a tree and Christmas stockings. And I hope we can talk about your Christmas memories—and try to make new ones, too.”
“We had a tree in a box,” Cole announced.
“An artificial tree then. I’ll bet it was nice.”
He nodded. “And we had favorite decorations—ones we made at school. One had my picture on it from preschool.”
Hannah’s eyes started to burn. The shipping boxes from Texas weren’t all emptied yet—just the ones with the children’s clothes, toys and books. The others were stored away in the bedroom upstairs. But she’d looked inside each one and knew for a fact that none of them had contained Christmas ornaments.
Cynthia had probably seen it all as rubbish and discarded it. And in the process, she’d destroyed one more connection the kids could have had with their past.
“After your cookies, we’re going to buy some Christmas ornaments, and those will be yours forever. But do you know what? I’d love it if we could make some, too. Those would be so special—and we could do it every year.”
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