A New Leash on Love

by Debbie Burns

  Reese rolled his eyes as he sucked on his slushie. “Can’t we just ping it another time?”

  “We can, but we can ping it now too.”

  Craig grabbed his bat and headed over without looking to see if Reese was following. By the time he had the pitching machine loaded, Reese was hovering near the plate, tossing his bat into the air and catching it.

  “Have you learned about kinetic energy yet?” Finished filling the machine, Craig joined him at the plate.

  Reese huffed. “I’m still in fourth grade, Dad.”

  “Maybe, but you watch all those science shows.”

  Catching his bat, his son shrugged. “It has something to do with motion, doesn’t it?”

  Craig bounced a ball on the end of his bat a few times before it fell to the ground. “That’s it exactly. It’s the energy an object has because of its motion. When the ball’s flying your way, it’s full of kinetic energy. And obviously you get that it takes energy not only to stop it from heading past you, but to send it sailing in a new direction.”

  “Yeah,” Reese said, missing his bat midcatch and letting it clank to the floor. “Obviously.”

  “Good. That’s the energy in your swing. When you don’t do it right, you feel it in your hands as you said, which is why your stance is so important. But more than that,” Craig said, tapping his son’s chest, “is what’s happening in here.”

  “I don’t feel anything there.”

  Craig watched Reese fumble for his fallen bat. “No, but you will. We’re going to start with release and work our way up to satisfaction.”

  Reese screwed up his face. “Oh, come on. Seriously?”

  “Pretty darn.” Craig tapped his own bat on the rubber plate. “Tell you what. I’ll go first and show you what I mean.” He jogged down, flipped the switch on the pitching machine, and headed back as the first ball sailed past. “No matter. There are plenty more where that came from.”

  Reese stood to the side, plastering on his best look of skepticism and rolling his bat in circles between his hands.

  “You’ve heard the expression ‘getting something off your chest,’ haven’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, Craig pressed on. “Well, you and I, Reese, we hold things in. Everything. And I’m sorry about that. We can’t choose the genes we pass to our kids. Your mom and I, your therapist, we can tell you how important it is to talk your feelings through, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to let them go.”

  “This sounds lame.” Reese’s shoulders slumped, and he tossed his bat to the floor.

  Craig pointed his finger Reese’s way as a third ball sailed past. “Then that’s a good starting place.” He sucked in an exaggerated breath and sank into batting position over the plate. “Lame exercises that your dumb-ass dad makes you do. That’s the next ball headed our way.”

  He fell silent as he waited, feeling the anticipation setting up inside him. He heard the burst of air as the ball rushed toward him, too slow and too low for his liking, but he swung anyway. The bat and ball connected with a satisfying ping, sending the ball sailing toward the end of the cage where it caught in the netting.

  “There,” he said. “That felt good, and it wasn’t even my frustration. It was yours. So I’m calling the next one. Let’s see. What’s weighing me down? I know. That boy two cages over earlier. Did you see him? He was totally bald, and his face was puffy.”

  Reese was staring at Craig, really staring at him. He nodded lightly, almost imperceptibly.

  “I figured you did. And I figured you knew he was sick, just not how. To look like that it had to be chemo. Which means he has cancer. I hate seeing kids with cancer. That’s my next ball. Not the kid. But the way seeing him made me feel. Helpless and sad.”

  Reese stared but said nothing.

  Craig settled into position, and the comforting sounds coming from the other cages fell silent. The next ball left the machine with a declaring whoosh, and he sent it flying, savoring the release that washed over him. He didn’t look directly at Reese, but knew he had his rapt attention. Craig could see him in his peripheral vision, standing still, watching intently, mouth lightly agape.

  “Next, I’m going for divorce. Because not seeing your kids every day sucks. And it makes you feel like a selfish, rotten bastard.”

  He could have sent that one out of Busch Stadium and wished it hadn’t been trapped by the confines of the net.

  “I guess you know it’s coming, but this next one’s for Andrew. For the way it feels having to let him go. For the guilt that comes with moving on.” Craig swallowed hard. His eyelids felt like a floodgate suddenly. Behind them was an endless river of tears that’d never been shed. Doing his best to shove them away, he pressed on. “For leaving him behind when he should be here.”

  He missed this one, and missing it made him want to scream. Swiping at the wetness that felt so foreign sliding down his cheeks, he returned to batting position. He’d crack the next ball in half. But movement distracted him. He glanced up to see Reese pounding toward him. He stood upright as his son barreled into him, throwing his arms around Craig’s waist and burying his head in his chest. Reese was sobbing. Wild, wicked sobs that rattled his thin frame and sounded as if they were choking him.

  Craig dropped his bat and engulfed him in the embrace Reese had deprived himself of for too long. Far, far too long.

  “It’s okay, Reese.” He brushed back his son’s hair and pressed his lips into the wet tangle his own tears were creating. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Chapter 14

  It was decidedly fangirlish, Googling images of Craig Williams. Admitting it was a new low, Megan closed her browser and slumped over her desk. Her forehead pressed into the keyboard, causing the speakers to emit a series of angry protests.

  There were dozens of pictures of Craig online from interviews and websites he’d been featured on, which she’d discovered when she first Googled him after he made the donation. But just because she hadn’t seen him in the eleven days since he’d been at her house didn’t give her the right to stalk him online. Or fantasize about him. Or experience the little rush his picture sent through her.

  Since that night at her place, she and Craig had exchanged a few emails about the long-range planning in progress for the shelter. But that had been it. She knew from Sophie he’d been out of town twice and they’d had a lot going on. Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped her from holding her breath as she pulled onto her street at night, hoping to find his car in her driveway again.

  The truth was plain and simple. And she needed to face it. Not only was he nearly a decade older, but he was also in an entirely different place in life. He was fresh out of a divorce and needed to focus on his kids. Thoughts of him should not—definitely not—bring rushes of electricity comparable to grabbing the big electrostatic ball on her trips to the children’s museum with Ashley and little Jake. They shouldn’t remind her of the ball’s wild, ever-changing current inundating her, making her feel small and insignificant and part of something immense and very much alive at the same time.

  Irritated by the incessant bleeping of her computer, Megan sat upright and forced her thoughts back to reality. Sophie’s party started in half an hour. Like it or not, she’d be dealing with Craig and his entire family at once.

  This made her feel like she was about to perform in a play but had forgotten to study her lines. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she’d seen him since he showed up at her house. Since that amazing evening that had left her place a bit too quiet and empty and lacking. Or if afterward they’d had some we-really-can-make-it-as-friends exchange.

  But they hadn’t. He’d poured his heart out on the walk, and she’d taken his hand and invited him back inside. But rather than accepting her invitation, he’d closed up entirely. It’d been like watching a curtain shut. Only it hurt.

  Megan stood up from her desk, thinki
ng of something her dad had said when she was seven or eight. A bird had flown into their family room window and gotten stunned. She’d wanted to keep it after it recovered. You can’t hold on to something that isn’t yours, her dad had said.

  If she knew what was good for her, she needed to get through tonight and put Craig out of her mind. Romantically anyway. With his commitment to shelter planning and Sophie’s love of the place, he wasn’t just going to disappear.

  She scooped Trina, who was purring as loud as a dragon, off her tall filing cabinet and carried her to the main room. The shelter was quiet and empty, having closed a half hour ago. Since they didn’t have a dedicated area big enough to accommodate party guests, parties were held in the main room after closing. Kelsey had been the last to leave after triple-checking that Megan was all set for the party. Kelsey loved working birthday parties and would’ve joined her, but her brother needed an emergency babysitter this evening. The only people working the party would be Megan and Samantha, one of their college-age volunteers.

  She plopped Trina on the counter and flitted through the front room, checking things that had already been checked. Even though they only began hosting parties for older kids this year, the few they’d hosted were hits. Girls Sophie’s age typically enjoyed crafts, so Megan needed to stop worrying the party could be a flop. It’s just that Sophie was so excited. She was head over heels in love with the shelter and had no doubt her friends would feel the same way.

  Megan shook the tension from her shoulders. The girls were going to have a blast. Sophie and her friends would paint ceramic pet dishes to take home, make homemade enrichment toys to leave with the dogs, and watch a short training session. Parties ended with the guests getting some cuddle time with a couple of the friendliest dogs and cats, which was always a favorite activity. More than once, these parties had resulted in adoptions, and they helped generate money for the shelter, so this one was going to be a success all around.

  Megan’s stomach roiled as Jillian’s black Escalade pulled into the lot. What if Jillian picked up on her crazy, mixed-up feelings for Craig? She could think of few places she’d rather be than in the same room with both of them at the same time.

  Enough, Megs. Just because Jillian was a gorgeous exercise goddess with spectacular hair and stellar pedicures and wore heels with yoga pants… Well, there was no reason to be intimidated by her.

  Megan took one calming breath and headed for the door.

  * * *

  It was surreal, having his kids, his ex-wife, and the woman he was falling for all in the same crowded room. Sophie was having a blast, and thankfully so were her friends. They laughed and cooed over everything, which was a relief because for the first time, Sophie was having problems with friends in school. Craig had heard it was a common middle-school thing, but hopefully this would help.

  Megan was phenomenal with the kids. Not that he’d had any doubt. She largely avoided Jillian and made eye contact with him only once. She’d been giving the girls painting instructions and faltered, having lost her train of thought. Sympathy swirled through his chest. Clearly, this was as hard for her as it was for him. He should’ve called her today before the party. The only reason he hadn’t was because of how much he wanted to. Anything he wanted that much would never be simple.

  Halfway through it, Craig knew he could call the party a success. Reese was the only kid here not enjoying himself. He’d spent the first hour off to the side, unengaged, absorbed in a game. Painting pet dishes was gay, he’d told Jillian when she pressed him to participate. Her jaw had tightened, and she’d reminded him to watch his language. As if controlling his words was the most important battle.

  But she didn’t really think that. She just had a difficult time relating to the vast complexity of Reese. Not for lack of trying. Jillian exercised or cleaned her way out of the abyss of grief. It worked for her. Reese withdrew from a world he’d become highly perceptive of. It wasn’t working for him.

  Craig attempted to engage his son when he wasn’t flanked by the dads who’d chosen to stay at the party. Tonight, Reese wasn’t having it. After a bit of debate, Craig decided to leave it alone. The party was only two hours, and Sophie clearly wasn’t bothered by her brother’s disenchantment. She and her friends were having too much fun.

  Then, to Craig’s surprise, Megan used the downtime while the kids were eating pizza to sit by Reese, who was cramming in large bites of pepperoni pizza and playing his DS at the same time.

  Unfortunately, Bob Sullivan, one of the girl’s dads who’d stayed for the party, seemed to be only about halfway through a monotonous story about the moles that were invading his lawn. It was all Craig could do not to shush him so he could overhear Megan and Reese’s conversation. A few minutes into it, Reese actually stopped his game. He nodded a few times and even smiled a half smile. They got up and walked over to the cat cages at the back of the room, staying there until the girls were nearly finished eating, then disappeared into the dog kennels for a few minutes. When they came back into the main room, Reese was actually laughing.

  Megan headed to the front and announced they were ready to begin the dog-training demo. Everyone headed to the training platform at the back edge of the gift shop. Turbo and Tyson were up first. They looked drastically different from the afternoon Craig saw them at Megan’s. Then, they had looked like white, tan, and black spotted rats. Now, they looked like healthy puppies. Even their necks had healed from the too-tight collars.

  Megan’s helper passed them to Megan while she finished strapping a treat-filled training pouch just above her hips, hips that Craig could easily envision closing his hands around.

  “Turbo and Tyson are three months old and a really good age for training,” she said to the small crowd filing into seats around the stage. She took the smaller of the two beagles from her helper. “This is Tyson. Tyson and Turbo were in pretty bad shape a month ago when they were brought in. Turbo perked up superfast with the care he got here, thus his name. For a week or so, we weren’t sure Tyson was going to make it because his appetite didn’t increase and he wasn’t gaining weight. But he’s a fighter.

  “The last several weeks, he’s been doing great and even gaining on his brother. In fact, the vet was here yesterday and cleared both these guys for adoption. So now that the hard part of their care is over—getting them healthy—we’ll be focusing on training them until they find forever homes. And I’m crossing my fingers that these minimally trained puppies will be good subjects for you today.”

  The girls, who’d been cooing as Megan spoke, went into an uproar of oohs and aahs and begging the parents who’d stayed to adopt one.

  “The trick to training,” Megan said after the commotion died down, “is knowing that not only do dogs and puppies love getting praise from their owners, but they also can be ruled by their stomachs. If you have a ready supply of delicious treats, they’ll perform little miracles for you. And from there, it’s just a matter of habit forming.”

  She called Sophie up to the training platform. To Craig’s surprise, in just a matter of minutes, with some guidance from Megan, Sophie had the two beagles sitting at attention, awkwardly sinking to the floor to lie down, and following her around the stage. Craig bet this would go into the books as Sophie’s favorite birthday ever.

  “I know you all want some time to pet and play with animals,” Megan said after Sophie sat down, “but I thought it would be fun to show you a couple of tricks from a dog who’s had a bit more training. I heard you girls all saying how much you love dogs and cats, so I know you’re believers. Now—and no blaming him, girls—I may have overheard one person here say that animals were stupid… I know, I know, but I’m pretty sure it was just a figure of speech. And even better, this young man agreed to let me prove him wrong. Reese, how about it?”

  Reese nodded and disappeared toward the kennels as Megan handed the beagles off to her helper. She stayed on the sma
ll stage and started placing toys from a basket randomly around the floor.

  Craig blinked in surprise as Reese headed back into the room, trailed by the impressive-looking German shepherd he’d seen on the tour. The dog followed Reese up to the stage, ignoring the girls as he passed them. Sledge—if Craig remembered correctly—sat at attention as Reese produced a treat from his pocket and offered it to him. While the shepherd was munching it, Reese produced a second treat and held his hand at mid-chest level. As soon as Sledge finished chomping, he lifted his paw and let Reese shake it. A wide grin spread across his son’s face as the dog gobbled a second treat. Way to go, Megan.

  “Now, the average trained dog understands over a hundred and fifty words,” Megan said, unclipping the treat pouch and passing it to Reese. “Sledge certainly does. He’s about five years old, and like the beagles, he’s only been here about a month. Keep in mind as Reese works with Sledge that they just met today and neither of them are used to each other. Reese is going to show you how Sledge can pick up his toys using a series of three commands: take it, bring it, and drop it. I’ve talked to Reese about how to do this, but he hasn’t tried it.”

  She gave Reese an encouraging smile. “Reese, I’ve scattered nine toys around our stage. So that we know Sledge is listening to you, before he starts, why don’t you point out a couple that you don’t want him to pick up?”

  Reese shrugged and pointed to a purple bone and a blue rope. “He should leave those two.”

  Megan nodded him on. “Great. Just remember what I told you. Sledge will listen to you. You’ve got bacon-flavored treats after all.”

  She set the basket at the edge of the training stage, closest to the girls. As soon as Reese said, “Sledge, come,” the shepherd was on his feet, attentive to Reese. Sledge picked the first toy up, a white cotton rope, after Reese pointed and said, “Take it.” The dog carried it over to the basket and dropped it at Reese’s commands. The audience roared with approval. By the time the seventh toy was in the basket and only the two Reese had chosen to leave out were left, ignored by the dog, Reese’s lopsided grin was as big as ever.