A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

by Amy Vastine

  When they reached the shore, Ryder opened the door of the puddle jumper and was surprised to see a woman walking toward him. A woman with a dog. He climbed out onto the pontoon and made his way to the beach.

  The pilot, his friend Tag James, joined him. “One of your new neighbors,” he said, lifting a hand to wave. “Hey Jess,” he called out. “I’ve got your packages.”

  With a wave of her own she continued forward. She was wearing jeans, thick-soled hiking boots, and a red flannel jacket that had seen better days. Silky strands of black hair had fallen out of her messy bun to frame her sharp features.

  Stopping in front of them she asked, “What’s with the bobble on the landing, Tag? There’s no wind. The lake is glass.”

  “What are you talking about? That landing was perfect.”

  She lifted a shoulder, her expression as doubt-filled as her tone. “If you say so.”

  “I am the best pilot in the state of Alaska and you know it.”

  She grinned and addressed Ryder this time. “Pilots. This is a problem with them, have you noticed?” She pinched two fingers together and added, “It’s a fine line between confidence and conceit.”

  Tag tipped his head back and laughed. “Ryder, this is Jessie Madigan. Mediocre pilot and your new neighbor.”

  She stuck out her hand. Ryder shook it. “Ryder Shelton.”

  “Nice to meet you. Welcome to Rankins.”

  “Thank you. Good to meet you, too.”

  His eye was drawn to the shy dog cowering beside her and a too-familiar sensation of sadness and longing gripped his chest. Thick caramel-colored fur with black and gray markings, probably a shepherd mixed with malamute or golden retriever or maybe some Great Pyrenees.

  “And this is Fife,” she said.

  “How’s she doing?” Tag asked.

  “Not good. I’m still baffled.”

  Ryder couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Why are you baffled?”

  Intense brownish-black eyes met his. “Poor dog is… She’s not interested in anything. She’s afraid of everything. I’ve tried all my tricks.”

  He crouched. The dog stared at him and Ryder could see a spark of curiosity mixed with yearning, in spite of what Jessie claimed.

  “Don’t be offended. She doesn’t like anybody.”

  And then, even though he knew he shouldn’t, even though it made his stomach knot tighter than it already was, he pitched his voice higher and called softly in the way he knew, “Fife, do you want to come over here and see me, beautiful girl? You are a pretty one, aren’t you?”

  * * *

  Jessie gaped as Fife crept forward. Even the tail she normally kept firmly tucked between her legs began to twitch. Jessie remained frozen, but through her shock came the thought that this guy’s tone was so compelling she couldn’t blame the dog. Fife sank down in front of him and he slowly reached out, stroking her side, still murmuring his soft words. She heaved a sigh of contentment as she relaxed against him.

  “Clearly she likes someone,” Tag offered in a teasing tone.

  “Apparently,” Jessie said to Tag, not bothering to hide her surprise. “You didn’t mention your friend was a dog whisperer.” She watched transfixed as Fife seemed besotted in this man’s gentle hands. A bubble of hope rose within her, the first she’d had since Fife had arrived.

  He looked up then, a cheerful, satisfied smile planted on his handsome face. Hair the color of an otter’s fur curled around his ears and fell over his brow. At least a day’s growth of whiskers covered his jaw.

  Jessie felt herself returning the smile. “What did you do? Did you hypnotize her somehow? Can dogs even be hypnotized? How do I not know the answer to that..?” She trailed off with a shake of her head.

  “No tricks, I promise. Dogs like me.”

  “Ha,” Jessie said while Fife rested her head against Ryder’s chest and gazed at him with love-struck eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that over the years? Sure, once in while it’s true, but usually it’s due more to the dog than the person.” She pointed wildly between Ryder and Fife. “And with a dog like this? This does not happen.”

  “What do you mean a dog like this?” Hazel green eyes met hers inquiringly.

  “I’ve fostered hundreds of dogs over the years and I’ve never had one like this. Something is…off with her.”

  * * *

  “A rescue dog?” Ryder patted the beautiful animal leaning against him as compassion welled within him.

  “Yes, I do animal rescue. Dogs mostly, but cats, too.”

  Tag chimed in, “And a pair of moose calves, and an eagle and a baby otter…”

  “What was I supposed to do? Let those calves starve to death. And I only had the eagle for a couple weeks before the rehab center up in Great Skeet took him in.”

  Tag let out a laugh.

  Jessie shot Ryder a sympathetic glance as Fife buried her head under his arm. “I’m sorry she stinks. She rolled in moose droppings and I haven’t attempted to give her a bath yet. Like I mentioned, she’s afraid of water and pretty much everything else.” Fife brought her head up licked his ear. Jessie dipped her head to one side and said, “Well. Except you. Obviously. What did you do, rub bacon on your neck or something?”

  He chuckled and said to Fife, “A little moose poop never hurt anyone, did it?”

  She studied him with narrowed eyes. “Are you a vet?”

  “Not the kind you’re thinking.”

  “You’re military?”

  “Was. Yes.”

  “Ryder was special forces,” Tag chimed in.

  “Thank you,” Jessie said immediately. “For your service. I hope you know that every single day people all over this country are grateful to you. You guys go through so much and I… I’m grateful.”

  The sincerity in her tone was startling and her gaze burned into him. Ryder was used to people thanking him, but a complicated tangle of emotions tightened inside of him at her words; a yearning for the camaraderie he’d enjoyed with his team, regret that he was no longer there for them, wishing he could go back to that day before everything went so horribly wrong. Before he and Dell were injured and Zoe had been killed.

  But the way this woman was looking at him also made him feel appreciated, valued. “You’re welcome,” he said. “It was an honor to serve. I’m as grateful for this country as you are.”

  The smile she flashed him was dazzling. His heart skipped a beat, possibly two. And he’d thought the view of Rankins from the plane was as beautiful as anything he’d ever seen. What was wrong with him? He’d been here for a matter of minutes and already he was being taken in by a pretty dog rescuer and her new orphan? Proof, Ryder immediately asserted to himself, that he was not in his right mind. He was here to get away from people, to take a break from the world. He needed to get his head together, not jumble it further.

  Ryder rose to his feet. “It was nice to meet you both. Good luck with this beautiful girl.” He reached down to give Fife a final scratch.

  “Thanks,” she said. “You, too. I’m going to need some of that luck since I don’t speak dog quite as fluently as you obviously do.”

  He chuckled. “Just listen closely. Sometimes they have their own ways of telling us what they need. You’ll figure it out.” Then he turned toward Tag. “How about showing me my new digs?”

  Ryder could feel two sets of eyes on his back as he and Tag started toward the cabin. Something in him itched to turn around and see if he was right. What could it hurt to take one more glance at the lovely Jessie and her dog Fife? Cool it, Ryder, he told himself, women and dogs were both off limits. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder. Jessie lifted a hand and he returned the gesture as Fife stared at him hopefully.

  “Nice.” Tag’s tone was teasing when he turned back around. “I can tell you like it here already.”

  “Shut up,” Ryder snapped. Tag guffawed and slapped him hard on the shoulder.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The cabin Ryder had purchas
ed looked even better in person than the photos he’d seen. It was nestled amongst evergreen trees some two-hundred feet from the lake. The siding was unfinished cedar and a deep, covered porch wrapped all the way around the structure. Pausing there for a moment to take in the stunning view of the lake, he saw Jessie and Fife disappear into a copse of trees.

  Tag pointed. “Jessie lives in the closest house there.” Ryder saw a gray home partially hidden in the trees. The shoreline curved away forming a small bay between the homes. “You’ll see her come out on the other side of that brush in a few minutes. Wendell and Evie Havre live there. Marshall Quick is in the red house. You can barely see the Nettle’s house through that thick wooded section over there. There’s a trail that runs around most of the lake. People who live here use it a lot because it’s faster than taking the road. That reminds me, your pickup is in the garage along with your ATV and two snow machines. Keys are hanging on the rack by the back door.”

  Ryder followed Tag into the house and took a long look around. Cozy. Secluded. Exactly what he’d wanted. They stepped toward the kitchen area. A worn oak dining table sat in an alcove. Something was sitting near the center of the table.

  He walked over and stared down at the round tin. “Why is there a pie on my table?”

  Tag flashed him a wide smile. “Looks like Jessie’s handiwork. She always picks gallons of huckleberries. And, angel that she is, she likes to share them.”

  Ryder slowly shook his head.

  “You’re in Rankins. I warned you. I’d be willing to bet there are at least two casseroles and a pot of soup in your fridge, too.”

  Ryder walked over and pulled the door open.

  Tag peered around him. “Looks like three casseroles, two soups, and what is that? A potato salad? Doesn’t surprise me really. Someone moving here with winter setting in is kind of unusual. I usually have skis on the plane by now.”

  “Great.” Ryder said, scraping a hand over his cheek. He moved it around to squeeze the ball of tension forming in the back of his neck.

  “It is kind of.” Tag said. “If you let it be.”

  “Tag—”

  “I know, I know.” Tag lifted his hands palms up in a gesture of surrender. “I know you want your solitude and I hope it works for you, buddy. Don’t worry, your neighbors will want to meet you but they’ll leave you alone—eventually. Just don’t expect me to leave you alone.”

  A wave of affection washed over him for this friend he’d met twenty-one years ago. Ryder had been an introverted boy of ten who spent every spare minute hanging around his grandfather’s vet practice. Worried about his lack of interest in much of anything else, his grandparents’ solution had been to send him to a summer camp in Upper Michigan. Ryder’s plan had been to skulk around for two weeks and have a miserable time and show his grandparents that he was fine. But Tag had been his assigned roommate. He hadn’t left him alone back then either, urging him to participate, prodding him to do better, and making it all fun. By camp’s end, Ryder knew how to catch, clean, and cook a fish. He could paddle a canoe, use a compass, construct a decent emergency shelter, and start a fire with no matches.

  They’d both looked forward to camp every summer for the next six years, and then they’d spent two additional years as counselors. He credited that camp, and especially Tag, for generating his interest in athletics and the outdoors. All of which had eventually led him to the military.

  “You know, you haven’t changed that much since our camp days, still pushy and obnoxious and—”

  “Good-looking, intelligent, funny, and right—always right,” Tag joked and moved around Ryder to peek under the tin foil covering one dish. “This is my cousin Janie’s lasagna. I can personally guarantee it’s the best you’ll ever have.”

  Ryder’s stomach let out a grumble.

  Tag shot him a grin. “I heard that. How about I fix us some lunch? Which reminds me, Mom wanted me to invite you for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “Thanksgiving dinner with the James clan? Somehow I’m guessing that with the size of your family, solitude is not on the itinerary?”

  “Nope,” Tag said, scooping out a large portion of the layered pasta onto a plate. “But we have the best food you’ll ever eat, a ton of fun, and plenty to be grateful for.”

  * * *

  The next morning Ryder took a cup of tea out onto his porch to relish the silence. Well, it wasn’t exactly silent. The breeze blew dry leaves across the yard with a scraping sound and an owl hooted in the distance. A pair of kayakers paddled around the lake and he thought he could make out the sound of laughter. He couldn’t blame them for taking advantage of the crisp clear day as he was sure it wouldn’t be much longer until the lake froze over for the winter.

  Jessie came into view across the lake. He counted three dogs. Had she made any progress where Fife was concerned? He found himself wondering what her story was. What was she doing here living here on this tiny lake, miles from an already-remote town? Maybe he’d venture over there and…and what? It didn’t matter because it was not a good idea. He didn’t need to spend any more time around her to know how appealing she was.

  Ryder spent the rest of the day unpacking and checking out the house and property. As Tag predicted, some of his neighbors stopped by to introduce themselves. “Neighbor” was a loose term, he learned, as a couple of them lived miles away. By the time he went to bed that night he was feeling tired and hopeful that he’d finally get a good night’s sleep.

  But, as usual, sleep eluded him for hours.

  * * *

  The high-pitched sound broke the silence, terrifying and deafening.

  Ryder struggled to waken from the nightmare as Zoe’s howl and Dell’s scream pierced the air, echoing in his brain. He couldn’t tell one from the other. He tried to turn and look but something tore through his shoulder and knocked him back.

  He bolted upright. Zoe was whining insistently now… Regaining his senses, he realized that couldn’t be. He was awake, sitting up in bed. Zoe was dead. Dell was injured. He’d placed a hand over his own shoulder to stop the bleeding. He lowered it slowly, realizing an unfamiliar sound remained, but it wasn’t coming from his beloved dog.

  He got out of bed, slipped on a pair of sweats and followed the noise. In the kitchen he found steam billowing from a teakettle on the stovetop, and his neighbor sitting calmly at his table. Shooting her a what-the-heck look, he hurried across the small kitchen and lifted the whistling kettle off the burner.

  “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Did I wake you?”

  “Uh, yes.” Ryder said. “I’m wondering if I need to start locking my door?”

  She shrugged, looking doubtful. “You could try that. Most people will think you accidentally locked yourself out and do you a favor…” she paused to add air quotes “…by breaking in.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. His dreams always left him terrified, irritable, and depressed about Dell’s condition and the loss of Zoe. But there was something about her that made it impossible for him to be grumpy, her honesty or sincerity or cheerfulness? Something. Two mugs were sitting out with teabags already resting inside them. He poured boiling water into them both as he tried to analyze why he was happy to see her. The day before he’d been proud of the fact that thus far he’d resisted the urge to hike across the lake.

  “I’m glad you’re awake. I came to ask a favor. I brought you some muffins, so it might be considered a bribe.”

  “They smell delicious.” He pulled back the towel covering the basket on the table. He picked up a still warm muffin and broke it into two pieces. He ate half of it in two bites. “Mmm,” he groaned. “They are delicious. Amazing that I’m still hungry after the feasting I’ve done the last couple days.”

  “Lasagna?”

  “Yes. And pie.”

  A satisfied grin lit her face. “I hope you enjoyed it. Maybe it will make you even more willing to help.”

  Chewing on the remaining piece of muffin saved him fr
om having to answer. He didn’t want to help, nor did he want to be helped. Not even by his pretty, muffin-baking neighbor with the high cheekbones and the wide mouth that seemed perpetually on the verge of a smile.

  “Cream or sugar or honey?” he asked.

  “Honey, please.”

  Glad he’d taken Tag up on his offer to stock his cupboards before he arrived, he slipped a spoon into one mug and set it on the table in front of her along with a jar of honey.

  “What kind of favor?” He asked the question even though he dreaded the answer. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help. It was just that help, giving and getting, always included involvement to some degree. And he didn’t want to get involved. He couldn’t get attached. Not to anyone or anything.

  She blew out a weary sigh. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to bother you.”

  “Are you in the habit of breaking your promises?”

  A low, husky laugh escaped from between her lips. The sound stirred something deep within him and he found himself smiling in return.

  “I love how you didn’t say I wasn’t bothering you.”

  Ryder raised a brow.

  “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. I wouldn’t be here if the favor was for me. I promise this won’t become a habit. I value my privacy as much as you do.”

  He was unnerved by her words as he realized a part of him did want to help her. Another part of him, an even bigger part, wanted her to invade his privacy. But then again, she had chosen to live out here on this lake, too. She probably had her own issues. Two people with issues didn’t mix well. Yet another reason to keep his distance.

  “Fife,” she said. “I want you to help me with Fife.”

  “What makes you think I can help?”

  She dipped her chin and stared up at him through her dark-as-charcoal lashes. “Come on. You have a connection. And you know very well that I can see that you’ve worked with dogs in some capacity. Do you want to tell me where you learned?”