A New Leash on Love

by Debbie Burns

  Craig swallowed and pulled his right hand from his pocket, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. Even in the heat of the moment outside the shelter when he was pissed as all hell and not even sure what he was saying, he’d been shocked how he wanted to run his thumb over her lips and brush the half-frozen wisps of hair back from her face.

  And here she was again, invading this sanctuary. He owed her an apology, yet he’d never give it to her. He knew when it was best to let something lie. Everyone had their own battles. And hers were too different from his to tangle with. By tomorrow, the long-slumbering hollow in his core that she’d stirred awake would be numb again. If he still felt the urge to apologize, he’d do something rational, like have his assistant send a note and a small donation for the shelter. The puppy would be adopted out, and the girl would go on to face her next battle. There was no fathomable reason ever to see her again.

  The wind picked up, and a chill rushed over him. Sighing, Craig stepped up to the headstone and squatted to pull free the teddy bear, which was half-frozen to the earth. He righted the sorry, bedraggled thing and rested it against the stone. A folded piece of paper that had been underneath was now visible. It had been thoroughly soaked before it froze, causing the ink to run. He recognized Reese’s irregular handwriting bleeding through the paper. On a different day, he might’ve been tempted to read it in hope of getting some sense that Reese was healing. Today, he left it frozen to the earth, comforted enough that Reese had finally found some words to share with his brother.

  Still squatting, Craig pressed his palm on the ice-cold marble, letting it sting his skin like fire. “I’d have traded places with you, buddy. I know it doesn’t change anything. I just hope you knew that.”

  With no answer but the gentle pelting of rain onto already heavy branches and freezing earth, Craig headed for his car.

  * * *

  A half hour of hiding out at the back of Panera, sipping her favorite mango tea, wasn’t enough to erase the evidence of Megan’s tears. A glance in the restroom mirror assured her of this. Her green eyes shone brighter and were rimmed by puffy lids, and her cheeks were splotchy.

  She needed to get back to the shelter though. Hopefully Marv, who’d grown increasingly worried about road conditions, had gone home and she’d only have to face Patrick. He’d notice, of course. Nothing got by Patrick. He noticed everything, especially about his friends. He commented when she tried a new shade of eyeliner, when Fidel trimmed his moustache, or when Kelsey forgot and wore one of her T-shirts out of rainbow color order, something she typically strictly adhered to. He’d certainly notice Megan’s I’ve-had-a-breakdown eyes.

  But Patrick wasn’t one to press things. So if she didn’t want to rehash what had happened outside in the freezing rain, she didn’t have to. She didn’t want to replay the scene—how that man told her off and then played hero opening her frozen door, somehow making his words sting worse.

  When she got back, she found Patrick in the kennels, taking the bigger and more active dogs out to the gravel lot behind the shelter one at a time.

  “Hey.” She pulled on one of the parkas hanging by the service door. “Who’d you take out so far? I’ll help so we can get home before it gets worse. Though I’m really hoping that iffy second wave they’re talking about doesn’t hit.”

  Patrick scanned the cages. “Bella, Ice Man, and Henry. I’m taking Kaldi now. I saved Sledge for you since you like him so much.”

  Megan glanced toward Sledge’s kennel. He was standing up, watching her expectantly from the back.

  “Hey, Sledge,” she said, sinking to her knees after opening his door. It took him three full minutes to approach her, minutes she spent talking to him quietly and keeping her gaze on the floor.

  Finally, he came over and licked the tip of her nose. She hooked him up gingerly and joined Patrick out back where the stinging rain was coming down a bit softer—for the time being, at least.

  “That man made you cry.” Patrick’s voice turned up a bit at the end, but his comment was a statement as much as it was a question.

  “Yeah.”

  Sledge headed to the wide gravel island they’d nicknamed the Island of Many Smells and started urinating over other dogs’ scents. Patrick kept Kaldi, a soft-coated wheaten terrier and Lab mix, at a distance, since Sledge was in quarantine and couldn’t be socialized yet.

  “Was it because he was standing so close?”

  Her throat tightened as the raindrops that’d been running down the stranger’s face and neck flashed to mind. Right along with the smooth skin disappearing into his shirt collar.

  “No.” Her cheeks warmed, and she tilted her head to the leaden skies, letting the rain cool them. “Today’s just been a hard day.”

  “How so?” It wasn’t Patrick who asked, but a new voice interrupting them.

  She turned to see her best friend, Ashley, standing in the back doorway and waving a Tupperware dish her direction.

  “And maybe you just need to look at things from the other side of a bowl of my spaghetti marinara,” she added.

  Megan laughed for the first time all day. “Ash, what are you doing out on these roads when you could be home chilling with the boys?”

  “Jakey’s down for a nap, and Mike’s parked in front of ESPN. Remember I told you my uncle broke his hip? I made a triple batch to share with his family and thought I’d drop some off for my Meggers along the way. Patrick, there’s enough for you too.”

  Patrick squinched his face. “I don’t eat tomatoes.”

  “Even in sauce?”

  “He doesn’t like savory fruits,” Megan said. “When he learned they’re fruits, he stopped eating them.”

  Ashley pursed her lips. “You know, that has some merit.”

  “Can you stay awhile?” Megan asked. “I’ll be in soon. Sledge needs a bit longer out here.”

  “So this is Sledge. I should’ve known.” Pulling her hood up and hunching her shoulders, Ashley crossed the slushy, de-iced ground to join them.

  Megan had called her friend this morning and told her all about the dog. The same way she did just about everything.

  “God, he’s beautiful.” Ashley held out her hand as Sledge dove as far away as the leash allowed, eyeing both her and her Tupperware.

  “He’s a bit stranger shy, it seems.”

  “Well, you can’t blame him.” Her gaze flicked in Megan’s direction. “Hey, have you been crying?”

  Patrick answered for her as he pulled out a bag to pick up Kaldi’s poop. “It was the man who surrendered the first Christmas puppy. He was angry, and he stood too close.”

  “Is that so?” Ashley huffed. “You know I’m going to want the full story.”

  Megan’s mouth watered as she anticipated a savory blend of tomatoes, basil, oregano, and garlic. “Heat that up, and it’ll be my truth serum.”

  Ashley laughed. “Does the microwave still work?”

  “So far, so good,” Megan said as she coaxed Sledge across the lot. He eyed the door as if it were a large set of jaws but trusted her enough to follow her through.

  The microwave was in a small, cram-packed multipurpose room at the far end of the kennels. Tall metal cabinets, boasting an extensive refrigerator magnet collection, lined two of the walls. The collection had been started by the shelter’s founder, Wes, but had been expanded by numerous volunteers and staff. The cabinets were the one spot in the shelter where animals weren’t featured. Instead, hundreds of cities, parks, monuments, and countries were displayed. There was a multitude of little star magnets too. Over the years, people had rated would-be destination spots, lining star magnets alongside dream destinations. Some of them—like Venice, Yellowstone, Hawaii, and Cancun—were obvious favorites. Nepal and Budapest also had an impressive collection of stars, as did Cape Horn and Mount Vesuvius.

  The third wall of the busy room was dedica
ted to an old washer and dryer set that had paid for itself a hundred times over. Megan sometimes shuddered at the condition of some of the items that were run through them. Thank heavens for bleach.

  Along the fourth wall was a makeshift kitchen. There was the microwave in question, a commercial blender, and a stove, along with a hodgepodge of dishes and silverware brought in by dozens of volunteers over the years.

  The stove was used for the animals more than it was for people. Diarrhea-ridden dogs needed a diet of rice and ground beef to settle their systems. Hardly a few days went by without at least one of them needing the simple, healing diet.

  Sledge stood hesitantly by the door while Ashley popped the spaghetti marinara in the microwave. Sixty seconds later, Megan heard a loud meow simultaneous with the oven’s ding. Sure enough, Trina, the shelter’s longtime resident three-legged cat, was headed their way. Since Sledge hadn’t been introduced to any cats yet, Megan kept the leash short and spoke reassuringly as Trina passed by without so much as glancing in Sledge’s direction. She hopped onto the counter with a grace that surprised people seeing her for the first time. She butted in front of Ashley and sniffed the air as if debating whether or not to lay claim to the aromatic dish.

  Ashley laughed and scratched the top of Trina’s head. The cat had lost most of one front leg while she was a young kitten but never let it slow her down. She was creamy silver-gray and had bright-green eyes. She could’ve been adopted a dozen times over, but Wes made the decision years ago to keep her as an ambassador for the shelter.

  He was debuting a sponsorship program, and Trina’s story was compelling. She, her mother, and four other kittens had been pulled off floating debris in the floodwaters following Hurricane Katrina. The litter was only a few weeks old, and her young mother had to have gone to considerable trouble to rescue them. As for Trina’s missing leg, no one knew how it had happened, but it was severed before the family of cats was rescued by emergency workers in boats. Wes credited Trina and her upbeat personality with helping secure enough funds for a much-needed kennel remodel that had been completed nearly a decade ago.

  Sledge did nothing more than pump his tail while studying Trina. “Attaboy.” Megan gave his chest an enthusiastic rub. “What do you say we head up front and watch the storm? Hopefully the roads won’t get any worse over the next half hour.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Rather than put Sledge in his kennel, Megan decided to keep him with them. Lit only by lamps this afternoon, the front room felt especially cozy. She stopped at a credenza and pulled out two clean blankets, one for her, one for Ashley. Although no “Closed” sign had been put on the door, she doubted anyone else would come by today.

  The rain continued to tap against the windows. It was freezing as it dripped down the panes. The parking lot and surrounding trees and dimly lit buildings looked magical behind the ice haze.

  Megan sank to a seat at one of the front desks, tucked her feet under her thighs, and cuddled into the blanket before taking the first forkful of delicious pasta. “Spectacular as usual,” she mumbled, remembering she’d been too upset to eat anything more than a few bites of that woman’s amazing banana-nut muffin earlier. “Want some?”

  “I ate before I left. I’m about to pop.”

  Megan broke off a piece of garlic bread and swiped it into the sauce at the side of the bowl. She could actually feel her tension draining away. But now that her anger was gone, remorse was sliding into its place. She could think of a dozen things she could have said or done differently to prevent that confrontation outside.

  “I was a bitch,” she said, starting the inevitable conversation, “but I’m pretty sure he’s an asshole, so I guess we were both wrong.”

  Sledge, who’d been sitting attentively at her side, sank down and flopped sideways, letting out a yawn.

  “You mean the Christmas puppy guy?”

  “Yeah. You know how we’re never supposed to get mad at people when they’re surrendering animals? Well, I did. I know it wasn’t right. Especially considering how healthy the puppy is. But I don’t know; I couldn’t help it. I think it was because of what I saw earlier with Sledge. That lady seemed to have little more in life than a deployed son and cancer. And she still wanted to do what’s right, even if she didn’t have the means to do it.”

  “And how does that connect to Mr. Christmas Puppy Guy?” Ashley asked, scratching Trina under the chin. The cat had followed them and was sprawled on top of the desk.

  Chance, a blind cairn terrier and the shelter’s only other free-roaming animal, was curled in his cozy bed over in the gift shop, snoring and seemingly oblivious to the storm.

  Megan shrugged, contemplating the question. “You know how you say I haven’t been attracted to anyone since Paul, and you think I should have my hormones checked?”

  Ashley laughed. “Uh, yes, but hearing you put it like that, I sound like the bitch.”

  Megan waved off her friend’s comment. “Well, believe it or not, I actually found someone attractive today. And not just sort of attractive. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Only he brought in the first failed Christmas puppy of the year. And he clearly wasn’t needy. He drove a Bimmer, and he was dressed like James Bond. Even his puppy is exceptionally cute. I’ll show him to you when I’m finished eating.”

  She paused to swallow another bite. Ashley waited semi-patiently with her head tilted forward and her eyebrow cocked. “And?”

  “There was something else too,” Megan said finally. “Something in his eyes. Like he knew he wasn’t this person, this dumper of the first Christmas puppy. And I wanted him to be more, only I went about helping him realize that all wrong.”

  “How wrong?”

  “Really wrong. I’ve never made a customer mad before. He stormed out. Afterward, I was upset and needed to get away. Then he came back with the puppy’s papers, and we met in the parking lot. We argued again, and I’ve never argued with anyone like that before. Not even with Paul. It was weird. Kind of intimate even. Like we’d known each other for years, but we were finally cutting through the crap and getting to the important stuff.

  “And then…” Megan sighed, her shoulders sinking. The marinara couldn’t ease this part. “Then he went out of his way to open my frozen-shut car door and said something about how I shouldn’t be driving, as upset as I was. It made me feel about two feet tall.”

  “Sounds…I don’t know, interesting. Weird, but interesting. And that last bit was romantic. How many guys would do that for someone they were arguing with? Was he wearing a ring?”

  Megan blinked. “I don’t think so. I didn’t think about it till now, but I noticed his hands. He has nice hands. I think I’d have noticed a ring.”

  “You’ve got his number, right? Call him tomorrow and apologize. Or at least give him an update on his dog. See if you can smooth things over. If nothing else, it’ll ease your conscience.”

  Ashley was right. That’s what she needed to do. Apologize. Give him an update on the puppy. Thank him for opening her door.

  Megan buried her face in her hands. The weird and unexpected truth popping up in her chest was something she wanted to deny.

  Giving Craig Williams a call was exactly what she wanted to do.

  Chapter 4

  It didn’t matter that half the city was shut down in the wake of the second wave of the ice storm. In Clayton, St. Louis’s largest business district, the streets were clean, the power was on, and it was business as usual.

  On a typical day, Craig’s mind never wandered. It was his company, after all. If he wasn’t one hundred percent engaged, how could he hope anyone else would be? His thoughts wandered more than they kept on track today though. Yesterday’s encounter with the girl from the shelter kept forcing its way to the surface, as did his daughter’s emotional call late last night.

  Though Craig had done the dirty work, the decision to surrender
Hershey was between Sophie and her mom—as the original decision to get him had been. The reality they’d faced was that Hershey was a bundle of unstoppable energy and would be for a very long time. Sophie hardly made it through a day without breaking into tears, regardless of all the books and videos she’d read on puppy training. And Jillian, who’d never been a fan of dogs, was regretting the decision to bring a puppy into a house about to go on the market.

  After a lot of indecision, and one very trying day in which Hershey chewed a hole in Sophie’s new bedspread while she was doing homework, Sophie agreed to her mom’s repeated proposition. Sophie could try again—with a calmer breed—in summer when they were in a new house and she was out of school.

  But when Sophie had gotten home last night and Hershey’s cage was empty, reality had sunk in. Hershey, spastic but lovable Hershey, wouldn’t be there to greet her ever again. She fell apart. Completely apart. Her sobs kept coming to mind while he was reviewing final drafts of client ads.

  His lead graphic designer was in his office when Craig’s cell lit up, showing Sophie’s number. He excused himself and took the call.

  “Dad?” She sounded almost as nasal as she had last night. “Mom said I could try again. She said we could get him back.”

  Craig pressed his eyes shut. This had always been between her and Jillian. “Good,” he said, forcing himself to sound hopeful and upbeat.

  He headed into an empty conference room and over to the wall of windows. His office was on the eleventh floor. An ambulance was parked on the street below, lights flashing. A man sat on the sidewalk, favoring his right leg. Two emergency personnel knelt beside him. So Clayton sidewalks weren’t as cleared of ice as they seemed at first glance.

  A feeling, more than a thought, washed over him. He’d experienced enough days like that. Days with a calendar full of appointments and a lulled sense of control that vanished when chance—or was it fate—slammed in.