The moment of lightness made them both laugh. The merry sound filled the kitchen as together, they started sifting through the box. They laughed over school pictures and newspaper articles about soccer goals. They oohed over prom pictures and first-day-of-school milestones. They compared their eyes, their heights, their style disasters. In this container, at least, the two sisters had grown up together.
The sun streamed in through the window, the dogs snoozed at their feet, and the clock on the wall ticked away the day. A little after four, Olivia’s cell phone started ringing. She almost let it go to voice mail, then saw Kris’s name bannered across the screen. “Hello?”
“Liv, you gotta come back. You have to see Millie.”
“Why?” Olivia put a class picture of Diana in fifth grade back into the box, then turned her attention to the call. “What happened?”
“You have to see it for yourself. And bring Miss Sadie.”
Olivia pressed Kris, but she wouldn’t say anything else. After Olivia hung up the phone, she turned to Diana. “Sorry. I have to go. Something came up with a patient at work.”
“Believe me, I understand. Kittens and puppies are usually born at the most inconvenient time.” Diana fastened the lid on top of the box. “Why don’t I put this in your car, and you can take your time to go through it?”
“If it’s okay with you, I’d love to do that with you. Just in these past few hours, I’ve learned more about our mother than I ever realized.”
Diana hesitated, then nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Me too.” Olivia drew Diana into a hug and thanked her again. The two words weren’t enough for all that they had gone through in the past couple of hours, or how grateful she was that Diana had not opened just the box, but also her heart.
At the door, Olivia turned back. “You never told me what your letter said.”
“She finally gave me the one answer I’ve wanted all my life, too.”
“What’s that?”
Diana bit her lip, then exhaled a long breath. “Who my father was.”
* * *
After his father left, Luke cleaned out the coffeepot, then headed for the leather recliner in the living room. The rest of the day stretched before him, as empty as every one of the days since the accident. His gaze went to Olivia’s house. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, which meant she was probably at work. He missed her, more than he wanted to admit. A part of him wanted to go over there and apologize and make it all better.
But once he did, where would he be? Right back in the same spot, having to decide between taking what they had another step forward or telling her the truth about what happened that night in the cold Bering Sea. What woman would want a man who had done what he had done?
Yes, he’d made some strides in the conversation with his father. But that was a far cry from telling the woman he cared about that he had killed his best friend. When those words slipped out, Luke had seen the light dim in Olivia’s eyes, the way she recoiled.
Like he was poison.
In a way, Luke supposed he was. He sure as shit wasn’t the bona fide hero Lois had called him.
The phone rang and instinctively, Luke picked up the cordless extension on the table and answered it. The second he heard the first skittish syllables, Luke knew who was calling. Damn.
“I don’t know if you remember me,” the woman on the other end said, “but this is Emma, Joe’s sister.”
She sounded older than the last time he’d seen her. Sadder. Guilt rocketed through Luke, and he cursed himself for sending the letter. But more, cursed himself for not calling her back. He’d taken the coward’s way out, and that wasn’t the kind of man he’d been before. “I remember you.”
“I . . . I got the letter and I wanted to talk to you about Joe. If this isn’t a good time . . .”
There’d never be a good time to talk about Joe. Luke sank farther into the chair, pressed one hand to his temple, and let out a long breath. “This is a good time.”
“I appreciate you sending me the letter. It was heartbreaking and wonderful, all at the same time, if that makes sense. Joe was so typical-Joe in the letter. Joking one minute, serious the next.”
Luke could hear Emma’s smile filling the distance between them. “That was him. He could make me laugh and get me back on track, all in one sentence.”
“Yeah. I miss that about him.”
“Me too.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and willed himself to keep breathing, keep talking.
“You know, he came home on leave a couple months before the accident. Just before he left, he wanted a hug, and I gave him a quick one, because I was heading out to meet my friends. I mean, he was my big brother. To me, he was always going to be there, you know? But if I had known . . .” A breath whistled out of her. “If I had known that would be the last time, I’d have given Joe a bigger hug.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. So he muttered something that sounded like “Yeah,” then let silence hum across the connection.
“Can you tell me about the day he died?” she asked. “The Coast Guard gave us some information, but . . . it’s never enough, you know? And I keep thinking if I have more, then maybe it’ll make this easier.”
It wouldn’t, he wanted to say. He knew the whole story and that had made it more painful, rather than less.
Promise me.
But it was a promise he couldn’t keep. No matter how much he wanted to. “I’m sorry, Emma. I . . . I can’t.” Then he pressed the button, ended the call, and told himself he had done the right thing.
He sat there for a long time in the recliner, the phone in one hand, knowing he should call her back. His fingers seemed frozen, unable to press a single button.
A wet nose, then a soft head bounced under his opposite palm. Chance’s tail thwapped against the chair’s side, tap-tap-tap. Luke turned, looked at the dog, and saw nothing but compassion staring back at him from the golden’s big brown eyes. This dog, a dog he hadn’t wanted or asked for, but who had latched on to him all the same, and refused to give up.
Luke rubbed Chance’s ears. “I wish you could tell me what happened to you, buddy.”
Tap-tap-tap.
“Whatever it was, I bet it sucked, huh?”
Tap-tap-tap.
“Same here. You, at least, seem to have figured out where you’re going, even if you’re crazy enough to make that place here with me, you furry glutton for punishment.” He chuckled, then sighed. “Got any ideas for me? Like what the hell I am going to do with my life?” The dog didn’t answer him. And Luke didn’t have any answers either. Mike had said Luke could go back to the Coast Guard and work a desk job or do training—hell, vets from Iraq went back with missing limbs—but the appeal of the military had always been flying. Without that component, Luke didn’t have the same passion as before.
It doesn’t mean you stopped being a man, Olivia had said.
Luke’s grandmother and Mike had been saying essentially the same thing. He needed to find a new normal, instead of mourning a past that was behind him. He’d spent too much damned time in the dark. Literally. Figuratively. Every way.
He clutched the phone and realized his darkness also shrouded others. Kept them from moving on, too. Emma had called him for answers, and instead of giving her what she wanted—no, needed—he’d taken the coward’s way out.
He was a different man, and it was time he accepted that fact and made a different life, instead of cursing the hand he’d been dealt. He looked at the dog, still healing, though the bandage was gone and fur had begun to cover the wound, and realized Chance had done the same thing. Wherever the dog had lived before was gone, and whatever he did from here forward would be different.
The dog nudged at him again, then let out a bark. Tap-tap-tap went his tail.
Luke spied a coil of brown on the floor, reached over, and picked it up. Chance’s leash. So that was why the dog had come over to Luke. He grinned. “Is that a hint?”
The dog barked again.
“You’re smarter than you look. Probably smarter than me, too.” Luke looked down at the dog, who just looked back at him, waiting, eager. Finally, Luke nodded. “Okay, but you have to promise to go easy on me, boy.”
Chance barked some more, then plopped his butt on the floor and waited, patient as a monk, while Luke changed into running clothes, laced up his sneakers, and clipped the leash onto Chance’s collar. He left the phone on the counter, then headed outside. When he hit the sidewalk, the sneakers felt odd, then perfect, molding more to his feet with each stride.
Luke and the dog started out walking, but then the familiar streets, the warmth of the sun, and the feel of the shoes worked their magic and before Luke knew it, he was jogging, then running. Chance kept pace at Luke’s knee, never leaving Luke’s side.
A quarter mile turned into a half, then a full mile. Another mile passed in a blur. The air rushed over his skin, and he drew in a deep breath, letting the sensation of speed fill him, ripple under his shirt, through his veins. As Luke closed in on the end of the third mile, his heart was hammering in his chest and Chance was starting to pant. Luke turned down his driveway and slowed to a walk.
At the door, Luke dropped to his knees, spent, grateful, overwhelmed. One simple event—a run with an animal as scarred by life as Luke was—and the raw, agonizing emotional wounds deep inside Luke had finally begun to scab over. He reached out and gathered the dog to him. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Chance didn’t bark or wag or make a sound. He just stayed there, his warm body pressed against the chest of the man who had found him and given him a second chance at happiness and life.
And now, finally, the dog had returned the favor.
Twenty-three
Olivia and Miss Sadie headed for Millie’s room. Kris was already there, waiting outside. “Glad you came in. I thought you’d want to see this yourself.” She didn’t say any more, just smiled and pressed the door open.
Inside the apartment, Millie was again sitting on the bed, but this time, she was dressed in pale-blue polyester slacks, a floral blouse, and a white cardigan. Slip-on sneakers covered her feet, and her hair had been brushed and fastened into a low bun. She had one hand on the quad cane, and in the other hand she was holding a thin cardboard five-by-seven photo frame, the kind that opened like a book.
The same one Olivia had left on Millie’s bedside table a week ago. It was a little memento she gave to all the clients she and Miss Sadie worked with, an idea she’d gotten from another therapist. A portrait of Miss Sadie, with a little note on the opposite side, a way to cheer the patients between visits. Olivia had found that Miss Sadie often became a surrogate pet for her patients, and having a picture of the dog was a nice reminder of the bichon who brought so many smiles to their days.
“She’s had that in her hands for the past hour,” Kris whispered to Olivia. “Hasn’t said a word, but she gave a pile of clothes to the nurse, who helped her get dressed. This is the most progress I’ve seen Millie make in months.”
Miss Sadie beelined for the bed. She plopped onto the floor beside Millie’s feet, her tail swish-swishing on the carpet. Millie stared down at the dog for a long time, then laid the picture on her bed and turned to Olivia. “Walk?”
“Sure,” Olivia said, calm and casual, as if a breakthrough like this were an everyday occurrence instead of one that felt as rare as a comet sighting.
A single word, but that was all Miss Sadie needed. Her tail went into overdrive, and she darted back to Olivia’s side, waiting for the leash to be clipped onto her collar. Olivia bent down, cupped the bichon’s face, and stared into Miss Sadie’s brown eyes. “Gentle, Miss Sadie, gentle. Okay?”
Kris helped Millie into a standing position. Olivia took up a station on one side of the elderly woman, Kris the opposite. Olivia held Sadie’s leash in the space between herself and Millie. Miss Sadie trotted forward, staying far enough ahead to prevent too much slack. They headed out of the apartment and into the hall, an odd quartet of humans and canine.
At the end of the hall, Millie shrugged off Kris’s touch. “Outside. I want to go outside.”
Kris caught Olivia’s gaze. She nodded.
“Okay, Millie,” Kris said. “You got it.” She pushed on the handle to open the door to the courtyard, holding it as Miss Sadie, Olivia, and Millie made their way outside. The waning sunshine dropped a golden hue over the lush gardens, cushioned seating, and charming bird feeders. Greta was sitting on one of the courtyard benches, talking to Pauline. She waved at Olivia, and then her mouth dropped into an O of surprise when she saw Millie.
Millie put the cane down, took a step, then did it again. Miss Sadie kept pace with her, turning her pixie face up to glance at Millie. As they rounded the corner, Millie paused, then caught her breath.
Olivia put a hand under Millie’s elbow. “Do you want to go back in?”
Millie’s blue eyes met Olivia’s. She shook her head. “I want to walk Miss Sadie.”
“Miss Sadie is loving this walk, and she’ll go as far as you want to, Millie.” Olivia smiled encouragement and trust for her patient. “I’m right here, if you need me.” She handed the looped end of the leash to Millie. The older woman clutched it tight in her left hand, then lifted the cane with her right. Place, move. Place, move. Miss Sadie’s tail wagged, and she continued along at that slow pace, as happy as ever.
When they reached the bench at the eastern corner of the courtyard, Millie stopped and settled on the plaid cushion. She patted the space beside her, and Miss Sadie obliged by hopping up and curving into the space beside her new friend.
Millie’s arthritic hand came down, slow, tentative. She hesitated a moment more, then flattened her palm against Miss Sadie’s soft fur. Miss Sadie settled deeper into the cushion, letting out a little doggie sigh of contentment. As Millie patted the dog, the sadness eased from Millie’s features. Her eyes brightened, her cheeks pinked, and a smile curved across her face. “Thank you,” she said.
Miss Sadie gave Millie’s hand a doggie kiss, then laid her head on Millie’s thigh. Millie’s eyes misted and she reached out a hand to grasp Olivia’s. “Thank you.”
“Just doing my job, Millie,” Olivia said, covering Millie’s hand with her own, “just doing my job.”
Olivia had worked with dozens of patients in the weeks she’d spent at Golden Years, patients who had become friends. But none of the smiles or praise she had received mattered a tenth as much as Millie’s thank-you.
“That was wonderful,” Greta said, after Millie had returned to her room. “You changed that woman’s life.”
“I didn’t change it. She changed herself.”
“Whichever way you want to butter your bread, it still comes out the same.” Greta smiled. “Now tell me this means you’ve rethought giving your notice.”
Olivia thought about the little salmon-colored bungalow at the end of Gull Lane. When she’d pulled into the driveway a few weeks ago, she’d been so full of enthusiasm and hope. But now the electricity was out, the plumbing leaking, the repairs expanding by the day.
In my dreams, I imagined the two of you running this place together. Diana with her amazing veterinary skill and you with your intuitive touch with animals.
If that was the case, then maybe Bridget should have left the girls a stack of gold, too, because fixing the place up enough to get it running was going to take some serious cash to pay for help and expertise. Olivia didn’t have any of that. And even if she did, she’d be living next door to Luke. She wasn’t going to lie and say that seeing his house every day—or worse, seeing him—wasn’t going to hurt like hell. She’d fallen for him, fallen hard, and he didn’t feel the same. Maybe never would.
And that, she knew, was at the core of her wanting to leave. Despite what her birth mother had asked of her, Olivia couldn’t stay here and look at Luke’s house, day after day, go on sharing the ownership of Chance, and pretend her heart didn’t break a little every time she
looked at him. Surely Diana could run the shelter alone, maybe even move her practice over here like she’d mentioned.
Maybe it was time Olivia faced facts instead of holding on to a dream that was far beyond her abilities.
She shook her head. “I got what I came here for. Answers. There really isn’t any other reason for me to stay.” Then she gave Greta a kiss before the other woman could voice an objection, and left.
* * *
Olivia pulled into the driveway and sat in the car. Diana’s Honda was parked ahead of hers, which meant Jackson and Diana were probably at the shelter, tending to the puppies. Olivia let Miss Sadie out of the car, then leaned on the roof of her car and looked out into the distance, in the direction of the beach.
Rescue Bay. Such an apt name for the town.
The tippy-top of the lighthouse peeked above the trees, nothing more than a red spire atop a long white cone. A beacon for people who’d needed to be rescued for dozens and dozens of years.
Right now, swimming in the deep churning waters of emotions brought up by the last few days, with Luke and the box from her mother, Olivia certainly had that sensation of drowning. She didn’t know which way to turn, which path to take. Whether to run or stay.
Diana strode down the worn grass path between the shelter and the house. She waved at Olivia. “Hey, Olivia, you should see the shelter. Mike’s been working on it all day and it’s really coming along. He made the kennel area safer, and he says we’re only a few weeks from being up and running. I know this town desperately needs a shelter again. And as long as there are puppies involved, I think we can get Jackson to help without too much prodding.”
A wave of panic threatened to engulf Olivia. She’d made this giant move, and now that she had what she wanted, the thought of staying, of settling down, of taking that risk on a permanent basis, terrified her. She needed time to think, time to breathe, time to figure out what she really wanted.
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