When Abbey entered the child’s room, Madison fought with her covers, moaning and sobbing. Cottonball stood watching the girl, trying to lick her cheek and console her.
Abbey rushed to the bed and scooped the child against her while switching on the lamp on the bedside table. She clutched Abbey, her sobs evolving into screams.
“Madison, wake up. Come on, honey.”
Dominic’s sister’s eyes bolted open. She stared at Abbey without really seeing her for a long moment.
“Madi? Are you okay?”
She blinked, recognition dawning in her gaze. She clung to Abbey. “I heard Mom screaming. Daddy...” The girl shuddered.
“Hon, you’re all right now. You’re safe.”
The sound of Madi crying shredded her composure, thrusting her back in time. The memories of holding her daughter while she cried in pain ripped off the scab over the wound of Lisa’s death. Abbey felt the heartache again as though three years hadn’t passed.
Suddenly Madi yanked away from her. “Where’s Cottonball?” Her gaze fastened onto the bichon, still on her bed but nearby. She pulled her close while wrapped in Abbey’s embrace. “I probably scared her.”
“She knew you were having a hard time. She stayed right by you.” Abbey combed Madi’s hair behind her ears, then framed her face. “Do you want to talk about the nightmare? Maybe I can help you.”
The little girl shook her head. “Can’t. I want to forget it. I...” Tears again welled in her eyes.
Abbey quickly searched for a way to take Madi’s mind off what had happened. “Do you know that Gabe must have heard you, and he got me up to come see if you were okay?”
“He did?” Madi glanced around for the Lab.
As if sensing she was searching for him, Gabe came closer, and when she held out her hand, he licked it.
Madi giggled. “That tickles.” She patted both Gabe and the bichon. “I like Cottonball sleeping with me. Can Gabe stay in here, too?”
“Sure. In fact, I’ll stay until you fall asleep, if you want.”
“Yes. I don’t like dreaming about the wreck.”
“I know, honey. Here let me tuck you in again.” Abbey straightened the sheets that looked like Madi had lost the battle with the covers. “There, is that better?”
The girl nodded, her mouth forming a big O as she yawned. “You can lie down. There’s room.” Madi scooched over to give Abbey even more of the bed.
“Sometimes I used to stay with my daughter until she fell asleep. I’d start telling her a story, and before I could finish, she would be asleep.” She couldn’t seem to stop the wave of memories. This weekend might be harder than she thought it would be.
“Can you tell me a story? What was your daughter’s favorite?”
Emotions jammed Abbey’s throat. She swallowed hard, shifting away to blink the moisture from her eyes. “The Princess and the White Rose.”
“Oh, that sounds good. What was the princess’s name?”
“Rose. She prided herself on her gardens, working every day in them, even though her father, the king, didn’t want her to. He wanted her to find a young man and get married.”
Madi snuggled up against Abbey, her eyes sliding closed.
“Rose never wanted to get married. She was sure no man would understand her love of flowers, especially roses.” Abbey peered at Dominic’s sister. “Madi?”
The child didn’t stir beside Abbey. She continued holding the girl while she recalled the last time she’d told Lisa the story—the day before she’d died. She couldn’t do this. Madi reminded her too much of Lisa. They didn’t look alike, but the two were connected in Abbey’s mind.
When she was sure that Madi was sound asleep, Abbey left Gabe with the child and slipped out of the girl’s room, too restless to go back to bed yet. She thought she would fix a cup of the tea that helped her relax when she was wound tight.
When she entered the kitchen, she found Mrs. Ponder sitting at the table sipping something from a mug. Abbey noticed the black kettle was on a burner. “Is there some hot water left?”
“Yes.”
“May I use it and refill the kettle for you?”
“Help yourself. The water and kettle belong to Mr. Winters.” As Abbey crossed to the stove, Mrs. Ponder asked, “You can’t sleep, either?”
“No, Madi had a bad dream. Gabe woke me up so I could go comfort her.”
“He did? He must be smart.”
Abbey poured some hot water into a mug she found in the cabinet. “Gabe is sensitive to people’s needs.” Abbey turned with her tea and started to move toward the exit but decided not to. Instead, she took the chair across from Mrs. Ponder.
“I’m sure you’ve sensed I don’t like dogs.”
“I kind of got the feeling. Did you ever have a pet?”
“No,” Mrs. Ponder said in an abrupt tone, then took a drink.
Silence descended. Abbey started to rethink her decision to stay.
“I was cornered by a boxer when I was seven,” the housekeeper blurted out. “I still have scars from the bite marks on my arm.” She pulled up her sleeve on her nightgown to reveal the evidence of the dog attack. “I’ve learned to keep my distance. I tolerated Zoe mostly because she was small and Madison adored her.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been bitten before, too.”
“You have?”
“Yes. I was a teenager and helping my dad at his animal hospital. When I was assisting him in controlling an injured dog, the poodle bit me.” Abbey sipped her tea and released a long breath as she felt herself unwind. “Do you have trouble sleeping, too?”
“Sometimes.”
“After my daughter died and I couldn’t sleep well, my mother shared some tea she used to help her sleep. It’s a special green tea blend with chamomile. It relaxes me, and usually I’ll fall asleep. I didn’t like the sleeping pills my doctor prescribed for me.”
“When did your daughter die?”
Abbey cupped her mug between her palms and stared at Mrs. Ponder. Surprised at the kind expression in her eyes, Abbey answered, “Three years ago.”
“I had a son who died when he was a teenager. I think of him every day. A parent shouldn’t have to lose a child.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. It’s never easy.” In that moment, Abbey realized she would try to get to know Mrs. Ponder. Abbey understood her suffering. “What happened?”
“A motorcycle wreck. He lived for two days. What happened to your daughter?”
“She died when she was five from leukemia.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“Does that tea really help you? I’ve been trying various things and haven’t found a remedy yet.”
“Usually. Would you like to try some of mine? I have plenty.”
“Sure. Why not? It can’t be any worse than this—” Mrs. Ponder held up her cup “—which was advertised to help a person sleep. It hasn’t, and I’ve been drinking it for a week.” She made her way to the stove and fixed herself a cup of Abbey’s tea.
When she retook her chair, Mrs. Ponder sipped her drink. “Mmm. There’s a hint of banana in this.”
“Yes. It surprised me, too. But a banana has tryptophan. It changes to melatonin and serotonin, which can aid in sleeping.”
“I’m glad Mr. Winters was able to go to Houston. I’ve seen how worried he’s been about his employees in Costa Sierra. He needed to attend the funeral.”
As she talked with Mrs. Ponder, Abbey relaxed, whether it was from the tea or from the fact that, for the first time since she’d been in the house, Mrs. Ponder was personable. She never thought she’d feel a kinship with the woman who didn’t like animals in her house, but she did. Abbey finished her tea and rose. “It was nice getting to know you. I’d
better go up and check to make sure Madi has stayed asleep. Although I suspect if she hadn’t, Gabe would have come down and gotten me.”
“Hmm. That’s interesting. He’s really that sensitive to Madison’s moods?”
“Yes. When I used to have nightmares after Lisa died, he’d wake me up and comfort me. There was something about petting him that always calmed me. I think that’s what Madi is discovering.”
“Good. She’s gone through so much these past six months.”
“I’ll leave the tea down here. Take what you need. I have plenty.” Abbey left the kitchen, thanking God for giving her a chance to see another side to Mrs. Ponder. She might not have converted her into an animal lover, but at least now she knew how to connect with her.
* * *
“How is everything going with Madi?” With his cell phone against his ear, Dominic pushed to his feet behind his desk. Restless, he paced his Houston office, part of him wishing he was back at the ranch. But he had a duty to the people who worked for him, who depended on his company for their livelihood.
“She had another bad dream last night. Gabe woke me up, and I stayed with her until she fell asleep.”
The concern and care in Abbey’s voice soothed Dominic’s guilt that he should be in Oklahoma rather than in Texas. It eased the uneasy feelings of being pulled into two different directions. “Did she scream out?”
“No, just wrestled with her covers and moaned.”
“I usually don’t know she’s having a bad dream until she screams out. As I told you, I have a monitor in her room, but I’ve been so exhausted that I must sleep too soundly. So a dog like Gabe could alert me before it gets bad?”
“Possibly. He used to wake me up when I had nightmares.”
“After your daughter’s death?”
“Yes.”
A wealth of unsaid emotion was bound up in that one-word answer. Dominic wished he could be there, not only for his sister, but for Abbey, too. He realized his sister was the same age as her daughter would have been if she’d lived. That couldn’t be easy on Abbey, and yet she’d agreed to help him. “Then I may need to get a dog like Gabe. In six months Madi has only gone a couple of nights without waking up from bad dreams, and she never talks to me about them. I think it would help.”
“I agree. I know a lady who trained Gabe to help me know when Lisa needed me at night. I can see if Emma has another dog like him.”
“That would be great.”
“I wish I could give you Gabe, but...” Her raspy voice faded into the silence.
“I wouldn’t ask you to give up your dog. I know how special he is to you. You’ve done so much for us, Abbey. I wouldn’t even know it was possible to have an animal to alert me like that.”
“Emma, a veterinarian assistant at my dad’s animal hospital, has a brother who was a soldier in the Middle East. He returned home with post-traumatic stress disorder. That’s when she read up about the dogs that could help him and started training one for him.”
“Thanks, Abbey. It’s a great idea. I’ll try to be home as early as I can. I’ve imposed on you long enough.”
“Don’t worry about that. We all need help from time to time. What kind of Christian would I be if I didn’t offer to help you?” Madi said something to Abbey in the background. “Your sister has reminded me we’re due at the nursing home soon, and she’s ready to go with Cottonball and Gabe. See you soon. Bye.”
When Abbey hung up, Dominic lowered the cell phone and glanced around his office, not really seeing anything. All he could picture was Abbey watching him entering the airport terminal, strands of her hair dancing about her face. An intensity had reached across the distance between them, tempting him to walk back to her and kiss her goodbye. He hadn’t, but that was all he’d thought about on his flight down to Houston.
With a sigh, Dominic realized he’d moved over to stand at the window of his office high-rise in Houston. He stared at a landscape of buildings that he had become familiar with the past seven years. And for the first time he missed the green stretch of pastures when he peered out of a window at Winter Haven Ranch. There was something comforting when he looked at the sea of grasses and trees, occasionally dotted with horses or cattle grazing, even with all he had been handling lately.
Unhappy with his view, Dominic rotated around to take in his office that, until this morning, he hadn’t set foot in for over six months. A massive oak desk dominated the large room, with a couch and two wing chairs on the right side, while on the left was a round table with six chairs for small meetings. He’d lived here six or seven days a week, often spending twelve or fourteen hours at work, dealing with one crisis after another. But nothing had prepared him to handle the situation he was in now—being guardian to his sister, who was hurting so much and keeping it all bottled up inside her.
When he heard her cry out in the night, he was there to hold her. But no amount of coaxing could get her to tell him what was bothering her so much that she would wake up screaming—even months after the accident. A counselor hadn’t been able to help yet. Would a dog help Madi like Abbey thought? He’d heard of therapy dogs. He had to admit Gabe had made his sister laugh more than she ever had before.
A knock at the door pulled his attention back to what he’d returned to Houston to do. “Come in.”
His CFO, Samuel, entered the office. “The department heads are here to meet with you in the conference room. They’re especially eager to discuss the situation in Costa Sierra.”
“Did you see the employees who were hostages at the funeral yesterday? I could see how hard the funeral was on them. Are we doing everything we can for them and their families?” The only burials worse than the one yesterday were Dominic’s parents’ funerals.
“We have them with the best counselors in Texas.”
“I know. But the faster we can move our factory to the United States, the better I’ll feel.”
“We’re looking at possible locations in Texas and the surrounding states first. I’ll have a list of possibilities to you by the end of the month.”
“In the meantime we need to fortify our security in Costa Sierra. I don’t want anyone else kidnapped, no matter who they are.” Dominic shuffled some papers on his desk until he found the ones he needed for the meeting.
“It’s already being done. Dominic, we’ve worked together for years. Don’t worry about the company. You need to be with your sister. Family comes first.”
“And I’m keeping you from yours. How do you manage to have a wife and two sons and still do your job and mine?”
“I have a wife and two sons who are my life. I make sure I have quality time with them. That’s more important than quantity. You just haven’t found the right woman to give you a more important reason than work to live. Besides, the staff you’ve hired is excellent. They do their job, which makes mine much easier.”
When he listened to his longtime friend, sadness engulfed Dominic. How had he let his life become so all consumed with work? Could he even change, especially now that he was responsible for Madi? Did he want to?
* * *
“You can’t have Gabe. I’ve called dibs on him first.” In the courtyard, Mr. Johnson waved his hand toward the bichon that Madi cradled in her lap. “You can have—what do you call her?”
“Cottonball.” Madi answered, a twinkle in her gaze.
Mr. Johnson’s eyes grew round. “Oh, no, they’ve found out you’re here with Gabe.”
Abbey turned around. Surprise streaked through her. The number of patients coming out into the courtyard had doubled since the last time she’d visited. This had been planned with Mr. Johnson as a quick outing for Madi on Saturday and an opportunity for the man to have some special one-on-one time with Gabe. It didn’t appear that would be the case, and from the frown on Mr. Johnson’s face, he wasn’t too happ
y.
“This is my time,” Mr. Johnson grumbled.
“I’ll share Cottonball with them. You don’t have to share Gabe.”
“Well, well...” The old man flapped his mouth as though he didn’t know what to say to Madi.
Abbey pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the flabbergasted look on Mr. Johnson’s face. She turned to the group moving toward them in walkers and wheelchairs. Two staff members accompanied these patients.
The small frail woman from Thursday shook her finger at Mr. Johnson. “Shame on you for not telling us Abbey was bringing Gabe and that other dog to see us.”
“Us? They came to see me.” Beet-red, Mr. Johnson thumped his chest.
“My lands, how can you hog both dogs?” another eightysomething lady muttered. “Abbey, we need more.”
“Yes, Mrs. Parks, I’ll have to check with Mrs. Rosen if I can bring more than one or two.” She’d snuck in Cottonball the other day, but she’d seen the look the director had given her.
The nurse’s aide from Thursday pushed a patient over to where Abbey stood with Madi.
“My supervisor said something to Mrs. Rosen about how happy the patients on her wing were when they came in from being with Gabe and this dog.” She waved her hand toward the bichon as Madi passed her to the wheelchair patient with short black hair.
Madi glanced at the nurse’s aide. “I call her Cottonball.”
“What a cute name.” The older woman took Cottonball, shaking so badly that Madi reached and helped to place the dog in the lady’s lap. “I used to have a white dog. Heinz 57 breed.”
“What’s that?” Madi asked.
“A huge mix of many different kinds of dogs, but he was so sweet. I miss him.”
“I had a dog named Zoe. I miss her.”
The black-haired woman patted Madi’s arm. “We have to remember all the good times we had with them. I won’t ever forget Butch.”
“I won’t forget Zoe, either.” Madi rolled her chair closer to the lady.
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