by Rachel Lacey
“One of them has an elderly dog who’s gotten grumpy in her old age and doesn’t like other dogs in the house, and the other has a new baby of her own. Neither of them is fostering at the moment, but they could definitely give you a helping hand.”
I pressed my lips together. I could see where Taylor was coming from. Surely it was better for Violet to give birth in an inexperienced foster home than at the shelter, but I had my own life to think about. I needed to focus on getting the cabin renovated so I could go back to Boston, which didn’t leave much time for a dog, not to mention that the puppies would pee all over my brand-new floors and probably chew on stuff too.
“How long do puppies stay with their mother?” I asked.
“About eight weeks.”
“Taylor…I’m not going to be here that long.”
“Then I’ll move them when you need to leave,” she said. “Right now, I’m just focused on getting her out of the shelter before she gives birth. Ideally, I’d like her to stay in one home until the puppies are weaned, but as an animal rescuer, I don’t always deal with ideal situations. Sometimes, you just have to make the best of what you have available.”
I looked down at the dog. Violet stared right back, and when we made eye contact, I felt a tug in my chest. She really did have a sweet face, and she seemed mellow and well-behaved. Was I really thinking about this? “Is she housebroken?”
“Yes. Her owner’s sister says Violet is a perfect lady in the house, no bad habits that she was aware of, although she does have a penchant for chasing squirrels, so you want to make sure to keep her on leash in the yard.”
“Doubt she’s doing much squirrel chasing at the moment,” I said.
Indeed, Violet plodded along, belly swaying from side to side. Her tail hung limply behind her, and I didn’t know much about dogs, but it seemed sad somehow, like it should be up and wagging if she were happy.
“This must be confusing for her,” I said. “Losing her owner and coming to the shelter.”
“Definitely,” Taylor agreed. “Want to sit on that bench over there for a few minutes?”
“Sure.” I walked toward it with Violet at my side. When Taylor and I sat, Violet lay down on the grass in front of us, but she still didn’t seem relaxed. Her head was up, and her eyes were alert, watching us. “She’s very vigilant.”
“Because she’s not comfortable here, and her instincts are telling her she needs to find a safe place for her puppies.”
“Dammit,” I muttered. It was working. I was starting to go soft for the dog. When I stared into Violet’s eyes, I felt a connection I hadn’t expected.
“Is that a good ‘dammit’?” Taylor asked.
“Good for you…maybe.” I couldn’t seem to look away from Violet, who was staring back at me with the same intensity. “She has very expressive eyes.”
“She does,” Taylor agreed.
“I hate that she looks so worried.”
“The sooner she gets out of here, the better, so she’ll have time to get settled and start to feel relaxed in her foster home before the puppies come.”
I slid off the bench to sit on my knees in the grass in front of Violet. “What do you think? I’m not sure if you want to give birth while I’m putting down laminate floors.”
Violet’s tail thumped against the grass as she leaned forward to sniff my arm.
“You’re redoing the floors?” Taylor asked.
I nodded. “The carpet was old and worn and smelled like dogs.”
“I didn’t realize you were doing so much work on the place.”
When I looked over my shoulder, Taylor was frowning. “Having second thoughts about wanting me to take her home?”
“It’s not ideal, especially if you have contractors coming in and out.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” I rubbed Violet under her chin, and her tail thumped the grass again. “I’m trying to put down the laminate on my own, since I’m not wild about a house full of contractors either, but I’m not sure how well it’ll go.”
“What if I come over and help?” she offered.
“Really?”
Taylor looked at Violet and then at me. “I’m asking a huge favor of you, so if you take her, I’ll do what I can to return the favor. I was already going to offer to help with her, but I could probably nail some floorboards too.”
“I’ll think about it,” I told her.
Taylor pressed her lips together. “We don’t have much time for you to decide.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t like to make big decisions on the spot. I need to make sure I’ve thought through all the risks.” It was the financial analyst in me. Sometimes I just couldn’t turn her off.
“Fine,” Taylor said, sounding resigned. She knew as well as I did that if I walked out of this shelter without Violet, I probably wasn’t coming back for her. But I just couldn’t commit to this, not right now. It was too much.
We went inside and put Violet back in her kennel. When the door clanged shut behind her, Violet’s whole demeanor changed. Her eyes seemed to dull, and her tail drooped. She trudged to the bed in her kennel and curled up on it, facing the wall like she’d accepted that she was never getting out of here.
And my heart broke. “All right, I’ll take her, but just for a few weeks until you find a more qualified foster home.”
Taylor beamed at me. “Really?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I can’t…I can’t leave her here to have her babies in jail.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I really appreciate this.”
I looked at Violet, and my stomach twisted uncomfortably. What had I gotten myself into? “So what happens next?”
“I have some paperwork for you to fill out before you take her home,” Taylor said.
“You want me to take her right now?”
“I mean, you don’t have to, but I think it’s best. I could send her home with you now, and then stop by your house after I get off work to help you get her settled?”
“Okay, I guess.” One good thing to come out of this might be the chance to spend more time with Taylor. Maybe this dog would help us repair our friendship. After all, we’d only been lovers for one secret summer when we were sixteen, but we’d been best friends since we were seven, and maybe we could be again.
In her office, I filled out several forms while Taylor explained that she was able to fast-track me as a foster home since we already knew each other. Then she handed me pamphlets and other information to take home with me.
“You’re only responsible for buying her food, although I’ll send you home with a bag to get you started. We pay for all the veterinary care for her and her puppies,” Taylor told me.
“How do I know how to care for her? Or when she’s going into labor?”
“The paperwork I just gave you covers a lot of it,” she said. “But I’ll stop by and go over everything with you in more detail once I’m finished here. I have an approved adopter coming by in about a half an hour, and another appointment after that, but I’ll come by after, okay?”
“What about other supplies? A bed and all that stuff?” I asked.
Taylor stood from behind her desk. “I’ve got you covered. I put out a call to my volunteers on Friday when I realized I was going to have to look outside my usual network of foster homes for Violet, and they’ve brought in everything you’ll need.”
I went down the hall with her, and we soon had my car loaded with food, bowls, and a bed, with Taylor promising to bring more supplies with her later, because we had to save room on the backseat for Violet herself. As I looked at the items piled in my trunk, I felt a flash of panic. What the hell was I doing?
My panic had only grown by the time I led Violet out the shelter’s front door ten minutes later. This was probably going to be disastrous, for me, for Violet, for the puppies, and for the cabin I was supposed to be renovating.
I opened the back door of my SUV, gesturing for Violet to hop in
, hoping she knew what to do because I was afraid to reach under her stomach and lift her since she was pregnant. She looked at the car and then at me, and her tail gave an actual wag. Then she hopped in and curled up on my backseat like she’d done it a million times before.
“Look at that,” Taylor said from behind me. “She knows you just sprung her from jail.”
“How?”
“They always know, and she won’t forget it.”
8
Taylor
It was almost six by the time I turned my SUV into the driveway behind Phoebe’s purple Nissan. I walked up the path to the front door and knocked, hoping she and Violet were off to a good start together. It certainly wasn’t an ideal situation, but it had been the best I could come up with on such short notice, and my gut instinct said Phoebe would rise to the occasion.
The door swung open, and Phoebe stood there, wearing the same jeans and yellow top she’d had on at the shelter earlier. Her hair was down now, loose curls spilling over her shoulders. I’d always had a weakness for her curls. I had to resist the urge to reach out and coil one of them around my finger the way I’d done that magical summer.
“Hi,” I said instead. “Everything going okay?”
She nodded, motioning me inside. “So far, she just follows me around the house and watches me. If I want her to lie in her bed, I have to sit down too.”
“That’s fine. She’ll start to settle down soon.” I followed Phoebe into the living room, which was currently stripped to the plywood beneath the carpet. Violet walked ahead of us and lay on the blue corduroy bed I had sent home for her.
“I’m worried,” Phoebe admitted, hands twisting in front of her. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I keep looking at her to make sure she hasn’t quietly given birth over there without me noticing.”
“The vet thinks she has about a week to go,” I told her. “But I’ll go over all the signs of labor to look for while I’m here. We also need to build her a whelping area. It would be a good idea for her to start sleeping there at night right away, so she gets comfortable in it.”
Phoebe’s eyes widened. “What’s a whelping area?”
“It’s where she’s going to give birth. What room do you plan to have her sleep in?”
“I don’t know. Mine, I guess?”
“The master bedroom?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I haven’t gone in there yet. The guest room is where I’ve always stayed when I’m here.”
“It’s too small for you and Violet and a whelping box full of puppies, though,” I said. Margery’s guest room was barely larger than the twin-sized bed and dresser that resided in it.
Phoebe took a deep breath, reaching up to fidget with one of her curls. “I guess I’ve been a little afraid to go in her bedroom. I mean, she died in there.” Her voice was soft, and she dropped her gaze to her hands.
I had an unexpected urge to hug her. “Would it help if I went in with you?”
She gave me a tight smile. “I have to go in sooner or later, right? Let’s just do it.”
“Sure,” I agreed.
She stood and led the way down the hall, pausing in front of the guest room. “You’re sure it’s too small?”
I peered over her shoulder, unprepared for the rush of nostalgia I felt when my gaze fell on the blue-striped quilt. How many hours had Phoebe and I spent in this room? As girls, we’d played with our dolls or raced my Hot Wheels around on the floor. Later on, we’d laid on the bed together, sharing teen drama while Phoebe talked about which boys she liked.
I’d been sitting on that bed when I told Phoebe I wasn’t sure I liked boys.
And when we shared our first kiss.
My heart thumped against my ribs at the memory of Phoebe’s lips, sticky and sweet like the strawberry lip gloss she’d been so fond of that summer. I remembered the wonder in her eyes after that kiss, as if the world had shifted beneath her. I liked to think that it had.
Present-day Phoebe turned to face me, and we were standing way too close. Her gaze darted to my lips as if she’d been thinking about the same thing, and I took a quick step backward. I wasn’t going there with her, not again. She’d panicked and run the first time, and she’d do it again, if for no other reason than the fact that she was only here for a few weeks.
“It is small in here,” she said, her gaze darting to the bed and back to me. Every spare inch was currently occupied by the elephant in the room, and that elephant was getting bigger by the moment.
“Let’s look at your grandmother’s room,” I suggested.
She brushed past me and opened the door at the end of the hall, then turned to the side as if she couldn’t quite bear to look inside. I stepped up behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder as I looked around the room. I’d never been in Margery’s bedroom before. I’d only glimpsed it on my way to the bathroom in the hall. It was large, with a full-sized bed in the center and a variety of heavy wooden furniture against the walls, which were covered in rose-printed wallpaper.
The bed was neatly made, and the room—though slightly stuffy from having been closed up for so long—gave no indication that anyone had died here.
“You okay?” I asked her.
Phoebe nodded, walking farther into the room. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it feels the same as always, like she’s just gone out to run an errand or something.”
“That corner would be perfect for a whelping box,” I said, pointing. “I’d ordinarily hesitate to suggest whelping puppies in your grandma’s bedroom, but I know Margery wouldn’t mind. In fact, she’d probably have done it herself if she were still here.”
When Phoebe turned to face me, her eyes were suspiciously glossy. “Yeah, I guess she would have. So, I’ll put the box in here, but what is it, exactly?”
“Well, what I have for you isn’t actually a box. We’re on a budget here, so I’ve got a child’s playpen that we’re going to put some comfortable blankets in for her to make a nice nest for herself. When it gets closer, we’ll put absorbent pads in there for her to give birth on.”
Phoebe pressed her lips together as she stared at the corner in question. “Let’s do it, then.”
We went out to my car to get the supplies and spent the next fifteen minutes putting together the plastic playpen and filling it with bedding. I left the baby gate open so Violet could come and go as she wished for the time being. She’d watched the whole process with interest, and now she poked her head into the enclosure.
“You like that, Violet?” Phoebe asked, patting the blanket. “It’s for you.”
Violet walked inside the pen and sniffed at the bedding, then whined.
“Oh no,” Phoebe said. “She doesn’t like it.”
“She’ll be fine,” I said, hoping it was true. I didn’t have much puppy experience myself, and dogs sometimes had their own opinions on where they wanted to give birth. “I’ll have Holly and Peyton—my volunteers with puppy whelping experience—stop by this week to offer their expertise.”
Violet pawed at the bedding, shuffling it around inside the pen, then nipped at it.
“She’s chewing it up.” Phoebe sat back on her heels, frowning as she brushed a curl out of her eyes.
“Or she’s trying to get it how she wants it,” I said. “And if she doesn’t like this blanket, we’ll give her a different one to try.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into bringing home a pregnant dog.”
“I can’t believe you did either,” I teased, trying to keep the mood light. Truthfully, I had no idea if this foster situation would work out, but I was hopeful. “And speaking of bedding, do you want to swap out what’s on the bed before you sleep in here tonight?”
Phoebe’s head bowed. She let out a slow breath, and then she nodded.
We went through the closet to find clean sheets and blankets and remade the bed so it would be new for her. “There,” I said as I smoothed out the quilt. “A fresh start.”
She look
ed at me, eyes brimming with emotion. “I’d definitely like one of those.”
9
Phoebe
I blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling with bleary eyes before rolling to my side to look in Violet’s playpen. It was empty. Last night had been a disaster. Violet had whined and cried when I tried to close her inside the pen, but every time I opened the gate, she promptly got out and started wandering the house. Consequently, neither of us had gotten much sleep, and I had half a mind to call Taylor and ask her to take the dog back to the shelter.
But then I remembered the look on Violet’s face when she’d been in her kennel there, the resignation in her eyes. Surely I could give this another day to try to make it work. But first, I had to find Violet and hope she hadn’t destroyed anything or peed all over the exposed particle board in the living room, or worse…delivered puppies in a random corner of the house.
I climbed out of bed and tugged a sweatshirt over my tank top. I bypassed the master bathroom in favor of the guest bath in the hall where all my things were. It had been weird sleeping in my grandmother’s room last night. I’d thought it might be depressing or even creepy, but oddly, I’d felt closer to her there, almost like I could feel her presence in the room. It might have been comforting if I’d actually gotten the chance to rest instead of chasing after Violet all night.
I freshened up and went down the hall, where Violet was curled in a tight ball on the dog bed in the living room. “You didn’t have puppies out here by yourself, did you?”
She raised her head and stared at me. She didn’t look happy, but I didn’t see any puppies, at least, or any obvious signs that she’d gotten into trouble out here by herself.
“I bet you’re ready to go out.” I picked up the leash on the kitchen counter.
Violet got to her feet, and she was definitely still pregnant, thank goodness. I clipped the leash onto her collar and led the way out the back door. She squatted to do her business, and then I led her around the perimeter of the backyard for good measure.