by Debbie Burns
An earsplitting silence carved a canyon between them. Up front, in her peripheral vision, she could see Kelsey folding and refolding the gift shop sweatshirts as she undoubtedly hung on every word.
“This is unbelievable.”
“Dad, you said nobody would take him!” The girl covered her face in her hands and let out a single heart-wrenching sob before turning her back to them.
“I’m so sorry. It’s just that I can’t remember the last time someone’s come back to reclaim a dog. Not with an owner surrender.”
“I shouldn’t have said okay,” the girl said, her back still turned as she wiped tears from her cheeks.
“Soph,” Craig said, “it’s going to be okay. Just hang tight a minute. Let me see what I can do.” He looked pleadingly at Megan. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?”
A place to talk in private? There were the dog kennels, separated by thick glass doors, but the dogs were wound up from not having any real walks due to the storm. It’d be impossible to hear in there. There were the bathrooms, the mini kitchen area, and the storage closets. And there was her office. Her small, cramped office. With one chair, a desk, and a hodgepodge of file cabinets. If she tucked in her chair, they could stand comfortably.
She nodded as if on auto response and headed that way.
“Can I ask who’s in charge here?”
The answer clung to Megan’s tongue like cough syrup. “I am. Our director’s on extended leave. And as for my office, it’s tight in here, but please,” she said, motioning to the desk-high file cabinet that lined the far wall as he walked in, “feel free to lean.”
A shadow of a smile passed over his face as he pulled the door shut behind him. “Inviting.”
She hadn’t envisioned the door being shut. There was less than ten square feet not taken up by furniture. She crossed her arms as he scanned the small room. His gaze lingered on the bulletin board full of her personal items, which included handwritten thank-you cards, pictures of her and Ashley, and a few shelter articles she’d been quoted in. “Isn’t it?” She tried to sound confident even though she wanted to squirm.
“This woman… You said she’d been coming in a while. How well do you know her?”
“Well enough.” She didn’t intend to reveal that Angela was a volunteer.
“Are you willing to call her, to explain the situation?”
“I am, but you should know that she called this morning. I’ve never heard her sound so happy. She says he has the same personality as her dog that passed away. She said it was a match made in heaven.”
He rested against the low file cabinet, splaying his hands along the cabinet edge, drawing her attention to them and his bare fingers. So he wasn’t wearing a ring. Somehow, this entire affair would be easier if he were.
“Can you think of anything to persuade her?” he asked, his tone nonaccusing. “Money, a sad story, some place she’s always wanted to go but never been.”
“She isn’t like that. She’s just a kind lady who lost her husband and her dog, and she thinks Hershey may fill a void that’s been haunting her.”
He tucked his hands into his pants pockets. “I can relate to that. Unfortunately, so can Sophie. She’s a good kid. A phenomenal kid who’s had a hell of a lot thrown at her. We surrendered the dog. I know that. And after the way I talked to you Sunday, you probably don’t want that dog anywhere near me. But Sophie…” He paused and shook his head. “She could really use a second chance.”
Megan tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She’d wanted to call him and apologize. Instead, she’d adopted out his dog, a dog he’d come back for. “If you give me a few minutes, I’ll call her. I’ll do what I can.”
He stood up, his hand closing over the knob. “I’d appreciate that.”
As uncomfortable as it was to be closed up in the tight space with him, she felt a rush of disappointment that he was leaving. His scent—clean and masculine and reminding her of cedar—was prevalent now. She wondered how many minutes it would linger.
Megan shut the door behind him and skimmed through her contacts for Angela’s number. Adopting out that little chocolate Lab to her felt like such a win. The best one she’d had in a while. Now, at most, it was a win-lose situation, something she always hoped to avoid. Whatever she did now, someone was going to be heartbroken. A kind and lonely volunteer or a cute, in-need-of-a-pick-me-up young teen.
Dread filling her, she picked up the phone and dialed.
* * *
Megan poked at the now-cold veggies and pasta she’d tossed together. Even though she should be hungry, she wasn’t. Her stomach was in a knot. She’d barely touched her lunch, and it was nearly eight o’clock. The temperature had plummeted again, and the cold was seeping through the windows and door seams of her normally cozy condo. The only thing she was in the mood for was her soothing cup of chamomile and lemongrass tea.
She kept seeing the girl—Sophie—heading to the car, head down, shoulders sunk. She needed a win, and Megan was giving her just the opposite. When she’d explained the situation, Angela had asked for the afternoon to think it over, but her initial answer was that she would exercise her right to keep the dog. The papers had been signed. By both parties. She’d paid the adoption fee. And even in such a short time, they’d bonded.
So Megan sent Craig and Sophie on their way, promising to call when she had a definitive answer. Just as she was leaving for the night, she’d gotten that answer but still hadn’t placed the call. Sophie might be expecting a no, but that didn’t make it easier to give it to her. What kid her age wanted to be told there were countless other fish in the sea?
Abandoning her pasta, Megan carried her steaming tea to the living room and curled into her favorite cozy chair. Her two cats jumped up beside her, demanding the attention they’d gone all day without.
Moxie, a girl, was the younger. She was small and dainty and a long-haired Himalayan-Siamese mix. Max was older and bigger and a temperamental gray tabby. Megan had imagined adopting a dog after splitting with her ex-fiancé a year ago, but this condo had fit her budget and dogs weren’t allowed.
Shortly after she moved in, Moxie and Max were surrendered together. They were healthy but FIV positive. People were hesitant to adopt a cat that would likely become sick in later life, let alone two. Not wanting to split them up, Megan had brought them home to foster them and later decided to adopt them.
Moxie, a snuggler, curled into Megan, while Max sprawled out on the ottoman.
Megan sipped her tea and reminded herself what she needed to do. Her cell lay abandoned on the side table, Craig’s business card tucked underneath it. She picked up her phone. The only new emails were shelter-related, and she was too tired to focus on them tonight. Summoning courage she didn’t feel, she dialed the crisp, clear cell numbers written along the top of Craig’s card.
It’d be easier if he didn’t answer. She’d leave a message, and it would be over. They’d probably start searching for another breeder right away.
He answered on the third ring, his low, easy tone tickling her ear. “Ms. Anderson. I was just thinking about you.”
Her hand froze around the mug. He was thinking about her. Get it together, Megs. “I’d ask if it was good or bad, but if it wasn’t bad, it’s probably about to be.”
“So she’s keeping him.” He let out a breath that was somewhere between an exhale and a sigh. “I suspected as much.”
“I’m sorry. I feel terrible for your daughter. I’m not sure if it’ll help, but he’s in a great home.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“Please tell your daughter I’m really sorry.”
“I will, but you did nothing wrong. It’s been my experience that apologies don’t change things. We wrap them in colorful bows and pass them out like Christmas gifts, but nothing ever changes.”
Megan blinked. It was
his tone as much as his words that caught her off guard. She could almost swear he was wanting to make a connection. But after the way they’d clashed and then this fiasco, how could he be? She wanted her reply to be witty and compassionate, but the thought of the conversation becoming a personal one locked up her throat.
“I couldn’t be in this business if I didn’t believe in the possibility of change,” she managed. “Which brings me to your daughter. I’d love to make it up to her. She might not be interested now, but when she’s ready, we have some spectacular dogs—old and young alike—that I could introduce her to. And if she ever wants to adopt one, I’d waive all the fees.”
“That’s a kind offer. I’ll pass it along to both her and her mother. The decision is between them, and my ex-wife is days away from listing our—her—house. I suspect she’ll ask Sophie to wait until they’ve completed the move.”
“That makes sense.”
“In the meantime, that dog-walking program of yours… Do you have to be sixteen? Sophie picked up a flyer before she found out about Hershey. When she feels better, she may still be interested, and I think it could be good for her.”
Megan’s jaw fell open. She’d only been able to picture him hanging up and having nothing more to do with the shelter after hearing this news. “Um, how old is she?”
“Almost thirteen.”
“She could become a junior protector.” Megan’s voice rose almost into question form before she managed to find her confidence by thinking of what the shelter had to offer. “It’s a mentoring program we have for kids over twelve. They don’t have the full freedom the adult volunteers do. But she could participate in the Saturday morning walking program and join us at off-site adoption events or even do service projects at the shelter.”
She turned her mug in a circle on top of her knee, holding her breath. It made absolutely no sense, but she wanted to see him again. And she wanted him to know what an awesome place the shelter was.
“It sounds like something that would be up Sophie’s alley.”
“Great. We’d love to have her.”
“Well then, Ms. Anderson, where do we go from here?”
His tone was playful, engaging. She could envision those blue eyes and that spectacular mouth like he was right in front of her. Her pulse quickened. “There’s an application and a fifty-dollar joining fee. Considering what happened, I’ll happily waive it. Usually there’s a formal tour too.”
“Tell you what. I’ll pay the fee—double it even—if you’re the one to give us that tour and we get through it without either of us laying into each other like we did Sunday. Sound okay?”
Megan laughed. “That sounds nice.”
“I take it this is your cell? Or are those cats purring into the receiver at the shelter rather than your house?”
She laughed again. “You’re observant. I’m home and about to crawl into bed. It’s been a long few days. Call me when you’re ready for your tour. I’m there every day except Monday, unless it’s a Monday after an ice storm that shuts down the city and keeps would-be pet owners from reclaiming their dogs. I’m there those days too.”
They said their good-byes, and Megan sat in her chair with her knees tucked into her chest and her mug perched precariously on top. She was smiling and biting her lip and wondering how she’d gone from never wanting to see him again to feeling as if the next time couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 6
A light dusting of snow was falling from the steel-wool blanket that was the sky as Craig parked in front of the shelter. Maybe it was worse because it was winter and the pots and landscaping were bare, but the building had seen better days. The sign above the entrance was faded, and paint was peeling in the corners. At least the red brick of the single-story building was nicely intact and the roof seemed to be in decent shape.
It wouldn’t cost much to give the exterior a facelift, the interior either. But if the shelter was operating on a bare-bones budget, as he suspected, he doubted they’d be able to scrape up the money to do so.
But he could make it happen. His company had the money. Just last week, his CFO had tried to pin him down. “Name a place,” he said. “We’ve got money to dump.” There were thousands of causes. Dozens Craig had been able to think of off the top of his head. But he’d walked away, saying he needed time.
Looking at the shelter, he thought maybe he knew why. For the first time in a long time, something felt right.
Beside him, Sophie grinned like it was cutest building she’d ever seen. It was Sunday afternoon and a week since he’d brought Hershey here. She wasn’t exactly over losing her dog, but she was resilient and always found a way to look at the bright side. She was ecstatic to start the program, and she’d been reading up on shelter facts this last week. After the move with her mom was finished, she was determined to get a shelter dog.
She wanted him to get one too, once he settled wherever he was going to settle. Right now, the idea of life outside his sterile corporate apartment was impossible to imagine. All he could tell her was the elusive maybe.
He shut off the ignition, and Sophie clicked loose her buckle. He spotted Megan through the large window, laughing at something the tall blond was saying. He told himself not to stare. Sophie might notice. But he couldn’t look away. Megan’s hair was swept back, and loose tendrils framed her face. Even from this far away, he could envision running his thumb along her smooth, delicate jawbone. He felt a pull in his chest that was both familiar and foreign.
He’d been faithfully married for thirteen years before they divorced. Jillian had been six months pregnant with Sophie when they married. He was twenty-two. She was twenty-five. Starting his career at the same time he started a family wasn’t something he’d imagined, but he’d done his best. It was miraculous and stress-ridden at the same time.
After Andrew died, everything had unraveled at the seams. Craig hadn’t known grief could do that, make a stranger out of a lover. But it had for both of them. And even the last couple years, when they’d become more business partners than spouses, he’d never allowed himself to look at another woman.
Whether he was ready for it or not, someone had caught his attention. Eyeing her through the dancing snowflakes, it was as if a set of long-frozen cogs in his chest was rumbling to life, sending a forgotten heat pulsing along his limbs and into his extremities.
He wanted to shake it off, to slide back into the dull numbness he’d grown comfortable with. But he knew from experience the feelings that budded out from deep inside, whether ripping you apart or helping you rise from the abyss of loss, couldn’t simply be shut down. They either blossomed or waned.
And the only thing that could rule them was time.
“Ready?” He couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking to Sophie or himself. When she didn’t answer, Craig looked over to find she was already headed for the door. “I guess so,” he said. “I guess so.”
* * *
Snow was tumbling out of the sky as Sophie headed toward the shelter. The thick, round flakes framed the building, and soft, yellow light streamed from the windows, reminding her of a snow globe. It was weird coming back here and actually being excited about it, considering this was the place that had separated her from Hershey for good.
But her mom was always telling Sophie to trust her instincts. Even though she was referring to making friends in middle school, Sophie figured the same thing applied to this place. The first time she stepped inside, a wave of happiness had washed over her, one that reminded her of life before Andrew was gone.
She was a bit surprised how much she liked the place. The desks and chairs were old, and the counters were chipped. And it smelled like a weird mixture of bleach, poop, and puppies. But it was bright and colorful, and an entire wall was covered with photos of happy people and their adopted pets. There was a friendly three-legged cat and a gift shop full of shirts a
nd sweatshirts with cool sayings. And of course, the shelter was full of animals—cats and dogs and a few rabbits. And at first glance, each and every one seemed cuddle-worthy.
The shelter was the opposite of her house, Sophie realized. Her house was enormous and quiet, and if she or Reese ever tracked in more than a speck of dirt, Inez took care of it right away. Sophie’s house had no clutter and no smell at all, unless you counted when Hershey pooped on the floor.
She was stamping her boots on the mat when the director—Megan Anderson—spotted her. Her dad, who’d been slow to get out of the car, was closing the door behind her.
The way Megan looked at her dad and then didn’t look at him made Sophie think of the other worker’s comment last week about her dad being hot. That girl, a pretty blond, was here again too. Even though she’d been the one to make the comment, the conversation that followed made Sophie think of the way her friends commented encouragingly if someone else pointed out a boy they liked.
Whether or not the director liked her dad, Sophie was pretty sure her dad wouldn’t like her back. He had once married her mom, after all. Her mom was a living version of their house. She was beautiful and perfectly put together. Nothing was missing, nothing was extra, and nothing was out of place.
Sophie couldn’t imagine her dad falling for someone who wore faded jeans and her hair in a messy ponytail and spent her life helping animals, no matter how pretty she was. Not when the woman he’d married had such an aversion to animals.
Suddenly, Sophie wondered if it was possible that Megan would stand out to her dad the way the shelter stood out to her. A refreshing opposite that promised a balance he didn’t know he was missing until he saw it.