She sat on the floor, arms wrapped around her bent legs, and sobbed while staring at Roscoe’s food and water bowls, wishing she could reverse time and keep him from running off in the first place. An impossible wish, so she focused on the hours immediately ahead of her. She had a job to get to. Kids to teach. Tryouts to reschedule. Moping about what couldn’t be changed wouldn’t help. Staying busy, however, might. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, called the shelters—no luck there—and finished getting ready for work.
The morning passed swiftly enough, but her heart remained heavy. Especially as she explained to the students in each of her classes why the Christmas play tryouts had been postponed at the last minute. Kids tended to ask a lot of questions, and by and large, they liked dogs. Which meant that she was continually talking about Roscoe, keeping him front and center in her thoughts. Every chance she had, she’d check her phone for any missed calls. None.
She hid in her classroom during her lunch break, eating at her desk and looking at a map of Steamboat Springs, trying to think like a dog. Nothing new or helpful came to mind.
He liked people, running, playing, squeaky toys and, naturally, food. He liked to burrow under the blankets and sleep at her feet, sit at the front window and stare at birds and rabbits and passing pedestrians and cars. He liked to rest his head on her lap when she watched TV, nuzzle into her when she was sad or scared and steal her shoes if she didn’t put them away. All of that explained his personality but gave her no clues to where he was.
The bell rang, signaling the change in periods, and Nicole had managed to eat only a third of her sandwich. That was fine; she didn’t have much of an appetite. She cleaned up and checked her phone again—still nothing—and prepared herself for an afternoon of more explaining, more questions, more thinking about her dog.
Kids started piling into the classroom, some chattering and some quiet as they took their seats, and seconds before the bell rang, the final group arrived. Erin was among them, and she came directly to Nicole, her expression unsure. Oh. Nicole should’ve realized that after spending the weekend together like they had, returning to the student-teacher relationship might seem odd for the girls. While Megan had seemed fine earlier—she was in one of the morning classes—Erin was older, and therefore, was somewhat more aware of relationship boundaries.
“Hi, Erin.” She smiled in hopes of putting the ten-year-old at ease. “It feels a little strange today, being back in the classroom after the weekend, doesn’t it?”
“A little, yeah.” Darting her brown-eyed gaze downward, she tugged at her shirt that was emblazoned with the words GIRLS RULE and said, “What about Roscoe? Did you find him last night or this morning? I hope you did.”
“Not yet, Erin, no,” Nicole said, keeping her voice low. “Listen, there’s nothing to feel weird about, okay? I’m your teacher during school hours, but I’m also your friend.”
The girl’s shoulders relaxed and she looked up with a smile. “That’s what Daddy said, but I didn’t know. We...me and Megan, I mean...wanted to help you again after school, but we have to go to my aunt’s house for dinner. Daddy says we have homework and other obligations.”
“Well, I appreciate the offer, but your father is right,” Nicole said in a gentle tone. “You have already helped a ton, homework is a priority and I bet your aunt and cousins miss you.”
“I know all that. But I bet if you called Daddy and told him you really wanted our help, he’d say yes. And we could go see Aunt Daisy and the twins tomorrow.”
Swallowing a sigh, Nicole patted Erin’s arm. “I’m sure you’re right, but I don’t think that’s very fair, do you? It’s your dad’s job to do what is best for you and your sister. And honestly,” she said, “I don’t know where else to look. Over the last two days, we’ve pretty much covered the entirety of Steamboat Springs. I...think he might be in someone’s house or garage.”
“That’s what Daddy said, too.” Sighing, Erin said, “Okay. We’ll do our homework and visit with Aunt Daisy, Uncle Reid and the twins. But If Roscoe isn’t back by this weekend, can we help more then? Please? Daddy said that was up to you.”
How to answer that one? Yes, if she continued searching by foot, she’d welcome the girls’ company—not to mention their father’s—but if Roscoe hadn’t returned after a full week, walking around as they already had didn’t hold much logic. Other than, perhaps, putting up more signs with his picture and her contact information.
“Right now, we need to start class,” she said, “but I’m not sure what the next step is. Let’s hold off on making that decision until we see what the week brings. Sound okay?”
Nodding, Erin retreated to her chair, and Nicole faced the class, again going through her apologies and explanation of what had happened at the play tryouts on Friday. After questions were answered, she moved through the day’s lesson, which involved a game that would help the kids learn how to identify musical pitches. It went well, as did the rest of her afternoon classes.
When the final bell rang and the day was done, Nicole—as she had all day—checked her phone. No missed calls, but she had a text from Parker that read, Any news?
She replied, None at all. Thanks for checking, though!
In less than a minute, he responded with:
Easy to check in. You’re on my mind. So is Roscoe. Was hoping for good news. I’m sorry, Nicole.
It’s okay! It wasn’t, not yet, but either Roscoe would show up soon, and her statement would become true, or he wouldn’t return and she’d eventually be okay. Either way, it was considerate that Parker had thought to check in. She stared at her phone for another few seconds, bit her lip and texted, Heading home now. Enjoy the rest of your day.
And of course, she took the long way home, keeping her eye out for Roscoe. Just in case he had been stuck in someone’s garage and was now wandering the streets. When a miracle did not occur, tears built and her throat clogged, but she pushed through the emotion. She couldn’t do anything she hadn’t already done. Time to go home.
Chapter Five
Parker picked up Erin and Megan from school and took them to his sister’s house. Daisy and Reid were going to spend the rest of the afternoon with them, feed them dinner and make sure they finished their homework. He had a WebEx meeting with a client at five, and it was expected to last a couple of hours. While he occasionally brought work home, his clients deserved his full attention for meetings and consults, so he held those at his office.
Normally, he tried to plan around the girls’ school hours, but schedules didn’t always align, and when that happened, Daisy stepped in to help. It was strange now to think of the years she’d lived in California. Eight of them, to be exact, and other than holidays and the occasional phone calls, those were years they weren’t a part of each other’s lives. She’d fled on her wedding day—her original wedding day, that was—and had left his best friend and her jilted groom, Reid, devastated. Back then, he’d stood by Reid and hadn’t tried to mend fences with Daisy, hadn’t really tried to discover what had sent her running. He hadn’t been there for her.
All those wasted years. He should have found a way to be there for both Daisy and Reid. It had taken Bridget’s death, followed by the skiing accident that had nearly killed him, to reach out to Daisy, to bring her home. Water under the bridge now, he supposed. She and Reid were together and happy, and his relationship with Daisy had become stronger than ever.
Back at his office with a little over an hour to spare before the official start of the meeting, Parker grabbed a bottle of water and buckled down to work. He kept at it until the timer for the meeting had hit the ten-minute mark, and began the log-in process. He had barely typed in his name when he received an apologetic text from his client. An unexpected opportunity had dropped into his lap, so he would have to reschedule the meeting for another time. Parker’s first response was slight annoyance
, but on the heels of that another thought materialized.
And oh, it was a tempting thought.
His girls were settled for the next few hours. Why not stop by and personally check in on Nicole? That would be far better than a text. He could give her a call first, see if she’d eaten dinner yet, and if not, maybe they could go out or he could just bring over a couple of burgers. They’d be able to talk one-on-one, maybe dig beneath the surface a little and learn some of those facts he was missing. Lord, the idea tempted. Again, more than it should.
Parker swallowed half of his water in one long gulp, considered giving in to the temptation, but common sense prevailed. They had just spent two full days in each other’s company. She was probably tired, worried about Roscoe, and while he’d like to think he could make her smile, maybe even laugh, to lighten that burden for a few minutes, showing up with barely any notice, twice in as few days, didn’t seem the best plan.
For either of them, really.
Decision made, Parker locked the office and headed to his car. He’d join his family for dinner, spend some valuable time with his sister and brother-in-law, his niece and nephew, and then take the girls home for their evening routine. In the car, he buckled his seat belt, trying to get thoughts of a disheveled angel out of his head. Trying not to think of her feeling lonely, missing the company of her dog, and... Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.
She was in his head. He might as well accept the reality of that.
Leaving the parking lot, he started to turn right, which would lead him in the direction of his sister’s house, when he swerved left, instead. It was growing dark, but he had a good thirty minutes of light left. Might as well drive by the school, the streets that surrounded the building, before going to Daisy’s. He’d done the same this morning, and again before he’d picked up the girls that afternoon. There wasn’t a lot he could do for Nicole, but he could do this.
Half an hour later, Parker sighed in disappointment. If they weren’t at Daisy’s too late, he’d do another swing with the girls on their way home. They’d like that, being involved. And they loved dogs, wanted one of their own, but Parker kept putting them off. It wasn’t that he disliked dogs. He liked them well enough. But adding one more responsibility to their household didn’t rank high on his want-to-do list, and he kept telling himself that they spent enough time with Jinx to fill that need. Selfish on his part? Perhaps a little.
Christmas wasn’t that far off. Maybe he should give the idea of a puppy some serious consideration. The girls were responsible enough to help, and he could almost hear their squeals of joy now. He smiled at the image of them on Christmas morning, coming downstairs to find a puppy—or maybe he’d go the route his sister had and adopt a dog from a rescue shelter—with a big red bow around his neck, sitting under the tree. Yeah, that would make their Christmas.
He was driving through the center of Steamboat Springs when he saw a large, lumbering animal on the side of the road. A deer, he thought. Slowing down, he veered to the opposite side of the lane, watching carefully in case the deer startled and jumped in front of the car. But the headlights didn’t spook him at all. In fact, he sat down on his haunches and tipped his head toward the light, just as Parker drove past. And even then, it took an extra few seconds for the image to register in Parker’s brain. That wasn’t a deer.
It was a dog. A large dog, at that. Maybe even part moose.
Could he be that lucky? Pulling off to the side of the road, Parker all but leaped from the car and jogged toward the dog, who still sat on his haunches, tail wagging, watching his approach with calm alertness. And as he got closer, he was about as certain as he could be that, yeah, somehow, he’d gotten that lucky. He’d stared at this dog’s picture for the past two days, hadn’t he? Was it possible there were two missing moose-dogs in the vicinity?
Possible, if highly doubtful. The tags would be the absolute proof.
“Roscoe? Is that you, boy?” And yup, that tail wagged even harder. Reaching the dog, who hadn’t budged an inch, despite Nicole’s assertion that Roscoe loved to run, Parker knelt and held out his hand. A quick sniff and a lick later, he felt for the tags on the dog’s collar.
They were there, but he couldn’t read them in the darkness. Didn’t matter. Parker wouldn’t leave him out here, regardless of his identity. He belonged to someone, even if that someone wasn’t Nicole. Standing, Parker gently took hold of the dog’s collar.
“Come on, boy,” he said with a slight tug. “Come with me, and we’ll see what we can do about getting you home. And if you are Roscoe, I can guarantee a meal fit for a king. Nicole will probably broil you a steak and cover it with bacon. And smother you with hugs and kisses.”
A whine emerged from the dog’s throat, as if in agreement, and surprisingly, he followed Parker to the car without any trouble or so much as a sign that he was prepping for escape. Either Roscoe had exhausted himself over the past few days or this wasn’t Roscoe.
Parker hoped like hell for the former.
When he opened the passenger door to the front seat, the dog climbed in, sitting straight and tall. Whined again, a long and imploring sound, as if to say, “What are you waiting for? Check my tags and get me home. Now, already!”
“I’m getting there.” Parker scratched the dog’s head, eliciting another whine. “Needed to make sure you weren’t going to take off again.” And then, with a quick prayer, he leaned over and read the tag. Unexpected emotion—sappy, at that—hit him with the strength of a semi blasting down the highway. He cleared his throat, blinked and gave Roscoe another scratch on his head. “Nice to meet you, Roscoe. Finally. Let’s get you back to Nicole, shall we?”
That damn lump of emotion stayed lodged in Parker’s throat as he drove toward Nicole’s. There was happiness there, obviously, for Nicole. Gratitude, as well. But also a sense that he’d somehow stepped straight into the Twilight Zone because, of all the people in Steamboat Springs who could’ve found Roscoe, it had been Parker. The chances of that had to be one in a million, if not one in two million. Toss in the rest: how he met Nicole, how she made him feel, how he yearned to see to her well-being, and he had to be hovering somewhere in the impossible range of statistics. But he had found Roscoe, through one of those twists of fate.
A good one, this time. Hell, more than good. He’d hit the jackpot.
* * *
The house creaked with the weight of silence. To compensate for all the quiet, Nicole had Billy Joel playing while she finished preparing dinner. Comfort food in the form of spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread with melted provolone. She’d decided to live dangerously and skip a side salad. She could get her greens in tomorrow, or the day after.
Tonight, though, was about relaxing with a bowlful of carbs and her favorite musical, My Fair Lady. If she had a sofa, she’d wrap herself in a blanket and curl up with some pillows. But she hadn’t bought one yet, so she’d settle for a chair. Or the floor, with a pile of pillows and blankets, if she wanted to stretch out. Between the movie and the carbs, she hoped to lull herself into a sleep coma that would last until her alarm blared.
Maybe tomorrow, she’d get her miracle.
With the sauce and meatballs simmering and the spaghetti close to being done, she slid the garlic bread into the preheated oven and then retrieved the colander from the cupboard. And like that morning, her muscle memory kept kicking in. She’d step over the places Roscoe usually camped himself while she was cooking, or she’d break off a piece of cheese and drop her hand, expecting him to be right there, waiting for any little tidbit she’d pass his way.
If he wasn’t found, how long would it take her body to catch on?
Shoving the unpleasant, if becoming more possible by the minute, speculation into the ether, Nicole dumped the spaghetti into the colander. The cheese on the garlic bread was melted and bubbly, so she turned off the oven and pulled out the
baking sheet. Dinner was ready. A small victory, but she’d take it. She filled a plate with a great deal more than she’d likely eat, exchanged Billy Joel for her Blu-ray disc of My Fair Lady and settled herself in a chair.
Five minutes into her meal and the movie, her doorbell rang. It wasn’t late—only a little after six—but she didn’t have many visitors other than her family. And she tended to know when they were stopping by. Parker and the girls? Maybe. Probably.
A shiver of anticipation, excitement, rolled through her body. Her skin warmed and her lips stretched into a smile. She carried her plate to the front door, reminding herself that Parker’s presence—if he was her visitor—was probably a result of endless pleading from his daughters.
The doorbell rang a second time as she unlocked and swung open the door. And there he stood, in blue jeans and a black jacket, with wind-tousled hair and a wide, almost-exuberant smile. That smile, the tousled hair—the very look of him caught her attention so fully that, initially, he was all she saw. A portion of her loneliness, sadness, dissolved and disappeared. It seemed she hadn’t needed comfort food or My Fair Lady to feel better.
Parker Lennox appearing on her front porch did the job.
She opened her mouth to greet him when finally—finally—her brain clicked into gear and she noticed he was slightly hunched over, his hand holding on to a dog. Oh. Oh. Her dog. Her Roscoe. She let go of her plate, sending sauce, meatballs and pasta flying all over the front porch, but she didn’t care. Her dog was here.
With a yelp of happiness, she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Roscoe’s furry neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. He whined in her ear and then slathered her cheek with wet kisses. “Where have you been?” she said, half crying, half laughing as she ran her hands down his back. His fur was matted, but she didn’t feel any actual injuries. Later, she’d check him more thoroughly. “And don’t you ever disappear again.”
Disengaging from her grasp, Roscoe licked her cheek again before inhaling the scattered remains of her dinner from his immediate vicinity. She stood and looked at Parker, who still hadn’t uttered so much as a syllable. The girls weren’t with him, she realized, which meant they were still at their aunt’s. “Hi,” she said as their gazes connected. “You found him, Parker.”
Their Christmas Angel Page 6