She turned to Lawless, praying she could somehow make him understand. “Working is in a Newfoundland’s blood, and now he’s finally found his life’s work. His…destiny, if you will.” Heat stole into her cheeks at the danger of exposing so many of her vulnerabilities to a man she knew scorned her. “Look in his eyes, Officer,” she pleaded. “When he looks at Charlie, he…”
How could Rowena even begin to describe what she saw in the dog’s expression? Something new, something wonderful, the budding of the nobility of spirit she’d sensed would grow in Clancy once he began taking care of the human he was meant to love.
Once he found Charlie Lawless.
Rowena tried to put it into words the child’s father would understand, feared it was a hopeless endeavor. “Deputy, do you believe in love at first sight?”
“No,” he snapped back so quickly it startled Rowena. Something hard, bleak, tightened the deputy’s face. Then it turned to blistering scorn so quickly anyone but Rowena would have doubted it had been there at all. “Why is it, Ms. Brown, that I’m dead certain you do? Exactly how many times have you done it?”
“Fallen in love at first sight?” Rowena’s cheeks burned even hotter. “Actually, never.”
In fact, she was beginning to think she never would fall in love at all—at least not with anything that walked on two legs instead of four. How many times had her mother warned her that she was so wrapped up in saving everyone else, she’d end up with no life of her own?
Rowena fought back her own doubts and looked straight in Lawless’ eyes. “Just because I’ve never done it myself, doesn’t mean I don’t know it when I see it.”
“Know what?”
“Love, Deputy,” she said, running her hand down Charlie’s ponytail. “Look at your daughter. Before you came barging in here, her eyes were shining. She was absolutely glowing. So happy—”
The officer’s jaw clenched.
“I may not ever have fallen in love at first sight myself,” Rowena asserted, “but give me a little credit. I know soul mates when I see them. Charlie and Clancy were meant for each other. Take him home and I promise you won’t be sorry.”
“Please, Daddy,” Charlie begged softly.
Lawless ran his hand over his close cropped dark hair. “Charlie, you know what I’m up against! I barely have time to take care of you and your sister, let alone a dog.”
Rowena hoped for some defiance, some fight to flare in the little girl. Instead, any spark in Charlie was snuffed out. Charlie was surrendering. Rowena could see it in the child’s eyes. Anger surged through her. “If you’ve got too many things inked into your precious schedule to give Charlie what she needs, then maybe you’d better reconsider your priorities, Deputy!”
“No!” Charlie exclaimed, looking from Rowena to her father in dismay. “No, it’s okay, Rowena. Daddy’s right.”
“No, he’s not!” Rowena exclaimed, feeling the little girl’s desperate need. Knowing in her bones that Clancy could heal her.
Cash Lawless’ lip curled. “Let’s get this straight once and for all, Dr. Doolittle. The day I take that dog into my home is the day they haul me off to the insane asylum and lock me up. What the hell?” He gave a bitter laugh. “Maybe I should let them. Sometimes a quiet cell might be a relief.”
“No!” Mac cried, suddenly tearful, her clinging arms all but cutting off the deputy’s windpipe. “Daddy, no! Don’t go to the ’sane asylum! You promised you’d never go ’way!”
Lawless flinched as if the girl had slapped him. Even Charlie looked ice-white, stricken, though she didn’t say a word.
“I’m sorry, button,” Lawless soothed, obviously appalled at his children’s distress. He tamped down his anger at Rowena to comfort his little ones instead. He stroked a curl back from his daughter’s cheek with a tenderness that surprised Rowena, confused her. “I’m not going anywhere, Mac. It was just a—a figure of speech. A grownup way of saying no.”
“Well, it’s a really bad way!” Mac plumped out a quivering bottom lip.
“It sure is, if it makes you cry. I won’t do it again.”
“Pinkie swear?” Mac demanded, holding out her tiny finger.
Lawless hooked his long, strong masculine finger with his daughter’s. “Pinkie swear,” he repeated, a sheepish flush spreading up his throat as he slanted a glance at Rowena. She didn’t want to feel touched by his gesture. Didn’t want to like him even a little.
Tears welled up in Charlie’s eyes, rolled down the silent little girl’s cheeks to plop on Clancy’s fur. There was something horrible in the resignation on the child’s face. Rowena fought back tears of her own. The child’s heart was breaking. Rowena could see it.
Lawless held out his other hand to Charlie. “Come on, cupcake. Better get a move on or we’ll be late.”
“Late? Again?” Rowena grumbled. “If being late is more important than taking a little time with your daughter, to—to—”
“To what?”
“To soften this for her. To explain…”
Charlie was losing Clancy once and for all and the little girl knew it.
Fury bubbled up in Rowena. “Is your precious appointment schedule more important than taking time to pay attention to your daughter’s needs?”
The deputy’s jaw hardened, his eyes black ice. “Don’t you dare tell me how to run my family! Look at you. Telling impressionable kids you can talk to animals when anyone with a brain knows that’s a bald-faced lie. If that’s how you get your kicks, lady, there’s nothing I can do about it. But tell your bullshit fairy tales to someone else’s kids. Not mine. Got it, Ms. Brown?”
Rowena stared at him, stunned at the rage in his face, the bitterness, an almost…hopeless edge.
Clancy’s worried gaze flickered between the two grownups. He whined piteously.
“Don’t yell!” Charlie cried. “You’re scaring him!”
Cash fell silent. Rowena’s throat closed, aching for the little girl as Charlie turned back to the Newfoundland, stroked him lovingly.
“Don’t be sad,” Charlie pleaded, giving the Newfie one last hug. Clancy looked up at the little girl, his eyes mournful as if he understood her every word. “Maybe Rowena was wrong,” she tried to reassure him. “Maybe you’ve been waiting your whole life for some other girl to love. Maybe you’ll be so happy you won’t even remember me. Maybe…” Her voice choked. Lawless stepped forward, took her hand.
“We’ve got to go, Charlie.” He drew her gently away. Then he leveled Rowena a glare filled with loathing and blame. “Looks like you and that dog have exactly the same M.O., Ms. Brown, bashing around in places you don’t belong. Maybe next time you’ll think about the damage you could do before you go interfering in a child’s life. Unless you like breaking kids’ hearts as much as Destroyer likes breaking china.”
“I didn’t…I mean I don’t…” Rowena stammered, unable to shake the sick feeling the deputy was right. Why hadn’t she listened to the warning in her head? Why hadn’t she been more careful? Waited until she could be sure Charlie’s father would welcome the dog into his home?
Because she’d been so certain this time. She would have wagered her shop, her last dime, her own life that Charlie Lawless and the Newfoundland were a match made in heaven. But now the little girl looked as if she’d been through hell. What use was this “gift” Auntie Maeve had given Rowena if it could make such a painful mistake?
“How could I have been so wrong?” she murmured to herself as she watched Cash Lawless and his daughters disappear beyond the pet shop door.
The Newfie tugged at his collar, looking up at Rowena as if he were sure she would chase after them. As if she could fix things. Make things right.
But she couldn’t mend the damage she’d done to Charlie Lawless anymore than she could make Miss Marigold’s teapots whole. This must be some kind of record, even for you, Rowena chastened herself grimly. Two mistakes impossible to mend. Two broken hearts in a matter of days.
Maybe more, a vo
ice inside her whispered. She couldn’t help but wonder if Charlie had been the only Lawless she’d hurt moments ago. Had she bruised Cash Lawless’s heart, as well?
Absurd. The man didn’t have a heart if he could turn his back on the love in his daughter’s eyes when she looked at Clancy, her desperate need for everything the dog could bring into her life. The dog would always be there when the little girl needed him, would love her even if she made the mistakes Charlie was so afraid of.
Clancy nudged the door with his big head, bulldozed past Rowena to run after Charlie. But it was too late. Through the shop’s big front window Rowena could see Cash Lawless’s forest-green SUV pull away.
Clancy scratched at the door, whining. Did even the Newfoundland sense that he’d just lost his chance to be the magical dog she’d known from the first he could be?
She thought of Charlie Lawless with her tidal-wave-proof watch and little Mac in her sparkly raincoat with the unicorn on its front. And the deputy, their father, with his blasted appointments and his stubborn loathing of the dog that could bring his daughters such joy.
She wanted to hate him, and yet…he’d seemed so strong, so gentle, when he’d tried to soothe his daughters’ fears. Solid in a way that surprised Rowena.
She hadn’t expected that kind of tenderness. Not from Cash Lawless. Not when he was so angry, so harried, obviously so upset.
You promised you’d never go ’way… Mac’s cry echoed through Rowena, wringing her heart.
So somebody had left the little girls. Their mother? Rowena couldn’t help but wonder. But why? Death? Divorce? No, not divorce.
No woman would leave those beautiful girls by choice. If Miss Marigold was still speaking to Rowena, Rowena could just slip through the gate and ask her. Those bug eyes beneath the lenses of her cat’s eye glasses had a knack for ferreting out top secret information the CIA would envy. The old woman was a more reliable source than the library archives when it came to unearthing town gossip. But Miss Marigold would welcome Attila the Hun and his barbarian hordes into her beloved tea shop before she would Rowena.
Clancy scrabbled at the door and whined again.
So, now what are you going to do? Rowena asked herself. Sit down and cry? What good will that do Charlie and Clancy? You didn’t go into this business to give up. Just think of all the matches you’ve made over time. How many people refused to believe you knew what was best for them where a pet was concerned. What makes this time any different?
Cash Lawless.
There was something about the deputy that unnerved her. Irritated her. Confused her. Made her feel restless inside, the way she did when her intuition hit the ‘on’ switch, hard. But just because the man rattled her nerves was no reason to give up.
“Damned if Cash Lawless is going to make a quitter out of me!” she resolved aloud. “I have to make this happen. For Charlie. For Clancy.” She grimaced wryly. “So I can get some sleep.”
Because she wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, now that she’d made that perfect match—it would churn inside her, keep her awake. Until she settled Clancy in that house it would make her half crazy—
Only half crazy? Deputy Lawless mocked in her mind. Lady, you’d rate certifiable in any psych test I can name.
Terrific, Rowena thought. Now I’ve got him talking in my head, as well. As if Bryony and Ariel and Mom and Auntie Maeve weren’t enough.
Don’t be fobbing me off, you cheeky lass, the old Irishwoman’s voice whispered in Rowena’s memory. It’s important work I’ve given you to do. Rowena’s palm tingled with cold, as if she could still feel the imprint of the tin whistle her godmother had pressed into her hand. No one else in the wide world but you can do the task you’ve been given. This pipe, Cuchullain’s own, holds the power to charm all broken creatures’ hearts.
“But what about my heart?” Rowena sank to her knees and hugged Clancy tight, sudden loneliness wrapping around her. She found so many ways for other people to give love. Had put so many pets in other people’s arms. She’d never once found one her gift told her was destined to fill her own.
Temptation nudged her. Maybe Clancy could stay. Be her dog to love and come home to and laugh over.
No. Much as she loved the Newfoundland, he’d never be as happy with her as he would with Charlie. He wouldn’t have a child to tend, to watch over, to guard. Never have the chance to wash away a little girl’s tears with swipes of his big pink tongue.
Clancy was Charlie’s miracle. Charlie’s chance. And somehow Rowena was going to make certain the child and the dog got to realize every bit of the magic she sensed would blossom between them.
No matter what Cash Lawless had to say about it.
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE WAS A PINK concrete poodle in Cash Lawless’s front yard.
Rowena shifted into Park in front of the tombstone gray house at 401 Briarwood Lane and stared out her van window. She blinked hard in disbelief, but the statue was still there.
For an instant Rowena wondered if Charlie was wrong about her mother giving the puppies away. Maybe the deputy had put a hex on the poor things and turned them into lawn ornaments. In fact, maybe the statuary-cluttered yard was the reason Charlie was so scared of making mistakes. One pouf and the poor kid could be condemned to spend eternity like the Asian-inspired turtles balancing shell-crackingly heavy pots on their backs.
Truth was that if someone had constructed one of those games where you matched the house to the person who lived there, this would be the last place Rowena would have connected to Cash Lawless’ picture.
No iron bars across the windows, no dungeons to lock helpless stray dogs in. Okay, so maybe the dungeon thing was an exaggeration, as Charlie would chasten her, but the idea of Cash Lawless in this modernistic nightmare was almost as ridiculous.
No question about it. With all the gorgeous vintage houses and charming cottages in Whitewater, the deputy had chosen the ugliest place of all.
And as for the yard he was so worried about Clancy ruining—Rowena figured the dog would be doing the neighborhood a favor if he dug a hole big enough to dump those creepy sculptures in.
Rowena switched off her engine and sucked in a deep breath. Okay, she told herself in her most reasonable tone, let’s get real here. The deputy’s lack of taste shouldn’t be distracting you this much. It’s not like anyone is forcing you to live in this place. The bottom line is you’re stalling.
She heard Clancy snuffle from the backseat in agreement. Rowena glanced back at the dog, who tossed his beloved football over the back of the seat. It landed in her lap as if to say, “it’s your play, quarterback.” Unfortunately, the whole sports analogy wasn’t a helpful one. It rekindled the memory of when Rowena was a kid and her far more competitive sisters sank to bribery to keep her off their teams.
“That doesn’t mean I’ll screw this up, too,” Rowena reassured Clancy.
After all, she’d argued the dog’s way into the Lawless household a jillion times the past week and a half. Composed and discarded speech after speech in her head, as she worked in the shop or designed artsy new dog bowls or sifted through broken pieces of pottery. She’d hoped she wouldn’t find the kitty teapot Mac Lawless had loved amongst the rubble. But there was no mistaking the deliciously snooty feline face captured on one of the fragments of china.
Unfortunately digging out all the shards of the cat, then trying to superglue them together, proved to be an exercise in frustration. She ended up with the cat’s butt fused to her fingers and could have sworn the blasted critter smirked at her.
She’d mourned Miss Marigold’s teapots more than ever after that. She adored whimsical designs, things to surprise smiles out of people when they least expected it. Like the bird-house Rowena had hung outside her kitchen window: a cat with a red-checkered napkin tied around his neck, a fork and knife clutched in his paws and his mouth wide open, forming the hole for the bird to go in.
That was the problem with the Lawless house. It had absolutely n
o sense of humor or wonder, an astonishing fact in light of the concrete poodle. The only thing vaguely human about the place was a straggly marigold at the bottom of the stairs.
Rowena rolled down the van’s back window just enough to give Clancy a bit of fresh air then climbed out of the car. “Wait here, pal,” she said, straightening her clothes. She’d dressed sedately—at least for her. Black slacks, a sunshine yellow jacket she’d bought at an art fair and earrings she’d made herself out of art deco-era buttons. Best to look like a respectable member of society when she told Cash Lawless how to run his life, she thought with a wry smile.
She climbed up the steep flight of stairs and made her way toward a front porch that caught the light in spite of the dismal house paint. The windows and doors were wide open, as if the house was gasping to drink in some of the beautiful September day beyond.
The Perfect Match Page 5