“He your kid?”
“Nephew,” said Calloway, shortly. “Jake, let’s go.”
“Hey, Mr. Mayor,” said Amanda, belligerence replacing her fear. “You know that complaint you wanted me to file about Ethan’s dogs? Little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
The boy, Jake, looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. “Oreo, here, boy.”
With the aid of a few treats from Ethan, the boy finally got the leash on his dog again.
“Border collies can be a handful,” said Ethan quietly. “If you want help training him, let me know.”
“Yeah?” said Jake.
“Any time.”
“Come on, Jake.” Clinton Calloway made the briefest eye contact with Ethan. “Uh, thanks, Nash.”
Ethan smiled. “My pleasure, Mr. Mayor.”
“Doggies, Mama?” said Georgie, squirming to be let down. “Shake hands with the doggies?”
A couple of grade school age children, plus Sherry Hagerson, the waitress, and her toddler, had come up behind them.
“Can we shake hands with the doggie too?”
“Yeah, can we?”
Most of the kids held tightly to their adult’s hand, whether to comfort child or parent, Carrie couldn’t say. A few toddlers watched safely from their perch on their parents’ hips, sucking their thumbs savagely.
“Can you take pictures of us?” asked Sherry Hagerson. “With the dogs? Sorry about the other day,” she added quietly. “In the cafe. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Carrie whispered back. Then she yelled, “Pictures?”
“Yeah!” chorused several others.
Carrie touched her camera. “I’d be honored. But it’s up to Mr. Nash.”
She looked over at Ethan, who’d heard the request. A slow smile spread over his face. “The dogs would love it.”
Chapter Nineteen
‡
Ethan felt, rather than heard, the rapid click-click-click as Carrie shot pictures of him and the children. Ashur was as dignified as always, raising his paw for high-fives, bowing, even taking a treat off his nose, though Ethan felt that was stretching things.
“Why is he called Mars?” called one little boy. “Is it because he’s a Martian?”
Ethan laughed along with the rest of the group. Then he paused. His dogs were named after gods of myth and legend.
Gods of war, all of them.
“He’s sort of the color of a Mars bar, isn’t he?” he told them. A much better explanation.
The child clapped his hands in glee, satisfied.
“What’s wrong with that one?” called someone, pointing at Gun.
“He’s been hurt. He’s getting better, but I’ve got him in a pen because I don’t want anyone to touch him because they might hurt him. When dogs are hurt, they react, like any of us, right? So, the first rule of dogs is this: Never go up to a strange dog without permission from the dog’s owner. Okay?”
“Okay,” they chorused back at him.
He looked at Carrie.
“Go on. This is your moment.” Her soft voice quavered with joy and her eyes were shining. For him.
He’d read her face during the fracas with the collie and what he’d seen allowed him to hope, told him that there was still a chance for them.
He longed to catch her up in his arms and demand to know if he was right, but she’d created this opportunity for him. The least he could do was make the most of it.
“What should you do when a strange dog runs at you?”
Hands shot up into the air.
“Georgie,” he said, calling on Amanda’s son.
“Run!”
Carrie was watching, laughing. But were those tears in her eyes?
“That’s right,” he said. “But you know what?”
He started walking over to where she sat with Gun and Dixie and the pups, her arms hugging her middle.
“What?” chorused the kids.
“You can’t outrun a dog. Ever.”
Generous, strong, stubborn, demanding, forgiving. She was the best woman he’d ever known.
“Even if you’re the best in racing and you winned a blue ribbon two times in a row?” asked Georgie.
He paused and looked at the children solemnly. “If you run, a dog will always chase you.”
In a way, he’d been running too, hadn’t he? Carrie had told him, in a million different ways, to stand still and let people see him.
Let her see him.
Like an idiot, he ran the last few yards to Carrie, waving his arms and yelling. Instantly, Mars was at his side, leaping and whining. The kids laughed. He laughed. Carrie laughed.
She gasped as he pulled to a stop in front of her. He barely managed to keep from kissing her.
“What did I just do?” he said, wishing the crowd would leave already.
Blank faces.
“Ran like a crazy person?” suggested Carrie.
Laughter rippled over the group.
“I did,” he responded, smiling. And in a softer voice he added, “Because I am crazy. About you.”
“Crazy, crazy,” chanted the kids, delighted.
“About time,” Carrie murmured, touching his arm.
“So what do you do,” he continued loudly, “when you don’t want to be chased?”
“Don’t run!” the kids yelled.
“That’s right,” he yelled back. “Because who runs faster, a person or a dog?”
“Dog!”
“Yeah! So this is what you do, instead.”
He took a step away from Carrie, put his hands at his side and looked down at the ground.
“I’m here, Carrie,” he whispered. “If it’s not too late.”
Before she could answer, he stepped back and looked at the kids again. He had to finish what he started with them, make sure he’d done what he could to help them be safe.
And what if he’d been wrong?
“Boring as a fence-post, right?” he said.
A few giggles.
“Now, who wants to try it?”
“Me!” called a little girl with dark curls.
“You sure, honey?” said the mother, following her nervously.
“I want to be boring as a fence-post, Mom!” She might have been a teen, the way she said it, Ethan thought.
“She’ll be fine,” he assured the mother.
He led the girl out into the middle of the grassy field. Just past them, a group of families were packing up the remains of their lunch. Some of them paused to watch.
“Now I’m going to let Mars come out and say hi to you, okay, honey?”
She nodded.
“What are you going to do?”
“Pet him?”
“Is he on a leash?”
She looked down at the dog. “No.”
“To you, out there, he’s a strange dog, so what are you going to do?”
“Be boring as a fence-pole!” she cried with glee.
“Excellent!”
“Now.” He held his hand up in front of her face. “Stay.”
She giggled as he walked back, then turned and gestured to the dog.
“Go on, Mars. Go say hi.”
The girl’s mother put her hands to her mouth.
The dog trotted toward her and Ethan could see the girl stiffen. She lifted her hands up and took a few steps backward. Mars’ ears perked up and he increased his pace until he was at her side.
“Mom!” cried the girl.
“Boring,” called Ethan. “Be a fence-pole.”
With visible effort, the little girl put her arms down stiffly at her side. Mars’ tail went down. He sniffed her shirt a bit, then turned away and began walking back to Ethan.
“Great job!” said Ethan, patting the dog.
The girl ran back to her mother.
“Great job, everyone,” he said.
“More, more,” cried the children.
*
If it’s not too late.
Carrie sat
between Dixie and Gun, letting the puppies scramble over her, wondering how Belinda would feel about a roommate, thinking about how quickly life could change.
Her sitting with Trish had been incredible. She’d done photos of Jessica, too, which had turned out beautifully. And Aunt Pansy, well, the woman had truly looked like the goddess she was. And since then, Carrie had booked a family gathering and a class reunion.
I’m here.
Dixie nudged Carrie’s arm with her muzzle, her brown eyes liquid and beseeching.
“You don’t chase cats, do you?” she murmured.
Forever Yours Photography would be okay. It turned out that one of Calloway’s lackeys had sent the email firing her from the festival. Karen Stanhope made certain Carrie understood that any and all photos were welcome and would be paid for in full.
And Forever Yours Intimate, instead of being a source of shame, had turned her into something of a local celebrity.
And Ethan had almost kissed her. Right in front of everyone.
She looked over to where he was finishing his talk with the children, his big body stooped to their level, his face animated and open. He was a natural. All this time he’d been resisting getting involved and look what he’d been missing.
Finally, the crowd started to drift away. He walked back to her, his dark face shining. She got to her feet.
“You’re a star,” she said, her heart huge in her chest.
“Nah.” He looked over at Mars and Ashur, who were lying on the grass, panting. “Those are the stars.”
“You almost kissed me,” she whispered. “With everyone watching.”
“I almost did.” He took her hand. “Carrie, I’m a stubborn, stubborn man. I needed someone to correct me, force me to be a better man. You’ve done that.”
“Out there with the kids?” she said with a laugh. “You did that all by yourself. And you were amazing, too.”
“Only because of you,” he insisted. “You saw me. The real me. It’s your gift. You see people, not just as they want to be seen, but as they really are.”
Her throat closed.
“A photographer’s greatest compliment,” she managed to say.
A rough throat-clearing alerted them both to the presence of Nate Jackson, standing in the shade of the truck.
“Grandfather.” She stepped away from Ethan, then caught herself. She wasn’t going to pretend anymore. She put her arm around Ethan’s waist. “What can we do for you?”
“Not to interrupt,” he said, looking like he wanted to fall through the earth. His color was high but so was his chin and his voice steady. “Congratulations on the dog thing, Ethan. Everyone’s calling you some kind of dog whisperer.”
“Uh, thanks,” said Ethan.
“I’m here to talk to you, Carrie,” Nate continued. “Privately.”
Her breath quickened. “You can talk in front of Ethan.”
“As you wish.” He swallowed. “I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve been wrong, and it seems I’ve, uh, been wrong about those, uh, you know. Those pictures you take. The, uh, the private ones. I should have trusted you.” He cleared his throat. “Old men can be stubborn. Stubborn and stupid.”
All of her defences came crashing down.
“Oh, Grandpa.” Carrie went to him and he enfolded her in his strong arms, the embrace like a drink of cold, fresh water after a long drought.
“I’m so sorry, Care-Bear,” he said roughly. Then he lifted his head and nodded at Ethan. “She deserves the best, this one.”
Carrie stepped back and looked between them. It seemed to her that a gauntlet had been thrown down.
“I agree,” said Ethan, gazing unflinchingly at the older man. “She’s had a lot of crap, lately.”
“She has. You gonna change that?”
“The world is what it is,” Ethan responded evenly. “Stuff happens. All I can guarantee is who I am.”
She touched his arm. “Ethan.”
Nate gazed back stonily, silently, waiting.
“I can’t promise the best,” continued Ethan, without breaking eye contact with Nate. “Only my best. If she wants it.”
Carrie couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, could barely breathe over the lump in her throat as these two men stood on either side of her, declaring, in their own very different ways, how much she meant to them.
Grandfather let another long moment stretch between them. Then he nodded once, as if he’d come to a verdict.
“Okay then. I’ll be watching.”
“Good.” Ethan put his arm around her and tucked her against his side. “So will I.”
Carrie watched through tears as her tall, unbending, beloved, utterly dependable grandfather walked away.
“Ethan.” Her heart felt like an overfilled sponge, leaking into her chest, flooding her body.
That’s when she glimpsed an item tucked under her grandfather’s arm. She looked closer, blinking to clear her vision.
A small album. With the Forever Yours Intimate logo on it. And a name on the side.
Pansy Oppenheimer.
She put her hand to her mouth as laughter bubbled up. “I don’t believe it.”
Ethan followed her gaze.
“Huh,” he said. Then he took her chin between his fingers and looked at her, his deep dark unfathomable eyes crystal clear to her.
“Forever yours, Carrie,” he said. “Believe it.”
And finally, with people watching or not, she didn’t care, he kissed her.
Chapter Twenty
‡
Epilogue
Ethan looked at the spade in his hand, then at the thorny sticks that were all that was left after Carrie had had her way with his roses.
“You sure this won’t kill them? They’ve never bloomed since I’ve lived her. Not once.”
Carrie straightened up, wiping sweat from her brow. “You’re going to be amazed. They’re going to bloom like crazy, come spring. Now quit being such a chicken and dig.”
“Chicken, huh?” he said. “Just for that, you get to feed Shandy tonight.”
The horses whickered at them from over the fence, wanting their treat. It was an empty threat and he knew it. The crotchety little pony was all sweetness and light, it seemed, now that Carrie was around.
Ethan understood the feeling.
In the few months they’d been together his life had transformed. Everything was fresh and new. He’d mended his fences with Don Ackerman and was actually mentoring a few of the computer science students. Clinton Calloway had given up his campaign to make Ethan’s life miserable.
Amanda Frankel had taken one of Dixie’s puppies, as had Sherry Hagerson. The other two had also found good homes and all of them wanted Ethan to help train them.
Carrie had insisted on keeping Dixie herself. Belinda had gone on a one-week hunger strike, then changed her mind, treating the dog like her own personal toy.
“Why do I feel like I’m doing all the work around here?” said Carrie, tossing a clump of sod at him.
He dropped his spade and grabbed her instead, whirling her around in the air. The dogs barked and Gun, his leg improved enough to jump again, leaped to Carrie’s defense. The dog was a total turncoat.
“You complaining, Care-Bear?”
She shrieked as he rubbed his whiskered chin against the soft skin of her throat.
She’d finally agreed to move in with him, though she insisted on keeping her house in town. With all the business she was getting these days, with both her regular work and her private-but-not-secret sittings, she was talking about expanding, maybe even hiring an assistant or two.
“No time for fooling around,” she said, pushing him away with a laugh. “The heritage society expects us to deliver these today. So get digging, buddy.”
It had been a chance comment from Nathan Jackson that had given him the idea to donate the roses for the garden behind the restored Montreau Hotel. Carrie’s great-grandmother’s roses, the same ones that bloomed so profusely at her
house, the only things left from the old Lewis homestead, were apparently from old-fashioned stock you couldn’t buy anymore. The society had leaped on the idea.
“It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?” he said, walking up behind Carrie and putting his arms around her.
“What is?” she asked. “How you keep avoiding the heavy lifting?”
He smiled against her hair. “How something so thorny and ugly can also be so beautiful.”
She turned in his arms and looked up into his face. “Did you just insult me?”
“Love,” he said, kissing her nose, “is such a miracle.”
She pressed her lips against his. “We just had to look in the right place. And open our eyes.”
“You see me, Carrie,” he said. “You always did.”
“And you,” she whispered, “see me.”
With dogs and horses and birds and trees and mountains and sky surrounding them, they celebrated that miracle.
Enjoy an excerpt from
Finding Home
By Roxanne Snopek
Book 1 in This Old House series
Copyright © 2014
Of course it had to be the underwear suitcase that slipped from her hands. The ancient hinges ruptured on impact with the sidewalk and it split open like a bale of fiberglass insulation. Except, instead of bright pink slabs, what burst forth was dull white, black and beige –
“Panties!”
Jade planted her little feet on the cobbled drive leading to the Bramble House bed and breakfast, and glared at her mother accusingly. “Panties are private, Mama.”
Bob the dog cocked her homely one-up one-down ears, always alert to her little charge’s ever-shifting emotions.
Some teenage boys leaving the park across the street paused in their roughhousing. One of them handed his football to the others and began loping over to her.
“Hey lady, need a hand?”
If there was anywhere on the planet where you could still find old-fashioned courtesy, even when you didn’t exactly want it, it was Marietta, Montana.
Samara saw the instant he recognized the items flung about them.
He froze midway, seemingly paralyzed beneath the canopy of fall colors sheltering the street.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” she said. “Thanks anyway.”
Her Secret Protector Page 18