Her Redeeming Faith

by Carolyn Greene

  She nodded. Pop had been spending most of his time at the hospital with Sobo, but evenings were the worst. He had admitted it was hard to climb those stairs alone and spend the night apart from his wife of almost sixty years. “Do you suppose he’d mind me bringing the dog?”

  “He’d love it. Why don’t you pack an overnight bag, and I’ll drive you over there. We can pick up some dog food on the way.”

  She did as he suggested and returned a few minutes later with a duffel bag and the belt from her bathrobe to be used as a temporary leash for Cali.

  “I’ll bring you back here tomorrow,” he promised, “and I will put in a security alarm then. It’s long overdue.”

  Ruthie’s thoughts went to what Sobo had said about Sundays being reserved for going to church. If he no longer believed, did that mean the rule ceased to apply to him? “There’s no need for you to work on Sunday. I’m sure a delay of a few extra days won’t make any difference.”

  He slanted his gaze at her, making it clear he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Think of it as rescuing a lost lamb on the Sabbath. That should exempt us.”

  But it wasn’t she who was lost and needed rescue. Silently, this time without clasping her hand, she asked God to help Gray find his way back into the fold.

  Gray stood on Ruthie’s front porch and rang the doorbell. Four years apart had left him craving the kind of companionship that only she could offer.

  No answer.

  He rang the bell again. He’d called only twenty minutes ago so she should be here. At the very least, maybe one of her roommates was still at home since it was too early for shop hours. He thought he heard someone holler something from inside, so he tested the doorknob.

  It turned.

  Annoyed that it had been left unlocked after their encounter with the prowler, he pushed the door open, leaned in, and said with more than a hint of sarcasm, “It’s just me, your friendly neighborhood stalker.”

  Ruthie’s voice floated to him from the center of the narrow house. “Come on in. I left the door open for you.”

  He gritted his teeth. “I noticed.”

  An old belt and a rope dangled from a hook by the door. A leash and collar wouldn’t cost much, but dog supplies would establish a sense of permanence. For that reason, he’d discouraged her from buying toys and stuff for the dog, out of concern that the more financially and emotionally invested she became in the animal, the more firmly cemented it would become in her life. Apparently, the belt and rope were her temporary solution to a lack of proper equipment.

  He shrugged. Maybe he should pick up a decent collar and leash for Cali and give it to her to be pass along when she returned the dog to its owner.

  He followed her voice to the hall and was prepared to give her a lecture for leaving the front door unlocked. But when he laid eyes on her, all such thoughts vanished.

  Ruthie knelt on the bathroom floor in front of the claw-foot tub, where Cali sat patiently. The dog’s long ears were submissively plastered to its neck. Both woman and animal were soaking wet and covered in soapsuds, and the scent of perfumed shampoo hung heavy in the small bathroom as she made baby talk to Cali.

  “You’re being a good girl,” she cooed. “We’re almost done. Here, have a treat.”

  Cali’s ears went up when Ruthie dug into a box of biscuits and gave her one.

  Gray felt a grin steal over his face. He couldn’t help it. It was an involuntary reflex when it came to Ruthie. She had a way of making people lean in to take in whatever she happened to be saying.

  She babbled something about going to the vet but assured the dog in that same singsong tone that there was nothing to worry about.

  “The vet? What happened?”

  Although Cali had turned toward him when he had stepped into the open doorway, it wasn’t until she heard his voice that she seemed to remember who he was. She reared up in the tub and offered an excited howl of greeting. Amid the commotion, she sloshed water over the side and soaked Ruthie with bathwater.

  “Easy, girl.” Gray hurried to Ruthie’s side to help contain the dog—and the water—in the bathtub. Unfortunately, his approach only excited Cali even more, and she tried to clamber out of the tub to lick his face.

  “You seem to have that effect on a lot of females,” Ruthie said.

  Amazingly, he managed to avoid the spray of water, but a small tidal wave, stirred by the dog’s wild movements, rocked through the tub and cascaded again over Ruthie. Her red hair, which had previously been piled in a messy knot on top of her head, now clung in spiderlike strands to her face. And the pale-blue T-shirt whose sleeves she had carefully folded up to keep them dry now dripped water to the tile floor.

  Didn’t matter. To him she still looked pretty. Beautiful, in fact.

  He handed her a towel and she attempted to blot herself dry, but it didn’t do much good.

  “I need to take her to the vet,” Ruthie said, picking up their conversation where they’d left off before Cali had decided to douse her. “She seems to be favoring the shoulder that got cut. It may be infected.”

  Cali bounced in the tub, clearly unaffected by the injury.

  “She looks fine to me.”

  Ruthie blushed, her reaction telling him more clearly than words that she had gone into nurturing mode.

  He hoped she wouldn’t be devastated when the time came to give the dog back to its owner, but he knew the possibility was slim that she’d give Cali up without at least a few tears.

  “I thought that while we’re there, we’ll have her scanned for a microchip, or at least see if anyone there recognizes her.”

  A roundabout way of saying she was emotionally adopting the dog.

  She stood and pulled the rubber stopper from the bathtub drain.

  “Um, you might want to change before you go.” He averted his gaze and busied himself with hanging on to Cali to keep her from jumping out of the tub and soaking either of them any more than she already had.

  Prompted by his suggestion, Ruthie glanced down at her shirt, blushed, and pressed the sodden towel to her front.

  To his credit, he fixed his eyes firmly on the dog. A real feat, considering he was one hundred percent male.

  “Just for that,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice, “you can finish the dog.”

  Then she swished—or rather, squished—out of the bathroom.

  Gray’s laughter followed her out the door and down the hall to her bedroom.

  She changed into clean jeans and another long-sleeved T-shirt, this one black with a scalloped neckline.

  His voice drifted to her again while she slipped off her sodden slippers and stepped into a pair of dry shoes. She tilted her head to hear him and picked up only broken snatches of what he was saying. “Pretty girl.” “So funny.” And most heart-catching, “…love you.”

  Was he talking to her? No, he couldn’t be.

  Cali made squealing grunts of happiness, and that was when it sank in that Gray was talking to the dog, not to her. She imagined she’d make similar noises— in her mind if not out loud—if he made a fuss over her like that. But they were still new at being back together, as friends even if not romantically.

  They were still on unsteady ground. With God’s blessing, perhaps their relationship would grow to the point where they were comfortable enough to easily share such sentiments again.

  “Okay, okay, I love you, too. Stop the kisses already.” Gray’s voice became muffled, as if he was covering his face to block the doggy affection. “Blech! Aw, come on. Knock it off.”

  Ruthie paused, her hand on the bedroom door’s vintage glass knob. He hadn’t said he loved her since that fateful letter when he’d tried to soften the blow of their breakup. The thought saddened her for a moment, but then she immediately cheered up again.

  He’d kissed her before, and she had faith he would kiss her again. And she was sure the kisses they’d shared were better than the sloppy doggy kisses Cali doled out.

  The “I l
ove yous” would come in good time. In God’s time.

  She went back to the bathroom, looking and feeling more refreshed than when she’d left.

  Gray looked up at her as she entered, a smile of appreciation covering his face. It felt good to see his uncensored reaction to her…a reaction that reminded her of their better days together.

  Cali, now toweled off and energized by the bath, charged past her into the front room, where she ran in crazy circles and rubbed her back against the couch. Then the little speedster threw herself onto the rug and crept, army-style, across the floor.

  Gray had followed them to the front room and stood at Ruthie’s side to watch Cali’s antics. He laughed, the sound a bit sardonic. “This dog is living a better life than some people I’ve seen.”

  Noting the seriousness in his tone, she turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head and walked her to the front door where he picked up the rope off the hook. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  Cali, apparently noticing the leash in his hand, went charging to him. She attempted to sit—another clue that the dog wasn’t merely a stray and had received some training—but she wiggled too much for him to get a firm grip. Gray turned away from Ruthie and focused on attaching the dog to the makeshift leash. At least, that’s what it was supposed to look like. She had a feeling it was more of an avoidance tactic.

  She put a hand on his arm. “Whatever it is, you can share everything with me.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t want me to share everything.” At that, he opened the door, and Cali, already hyped up and ready to go, charged out onto the porch, pulling him after her.

  The conversation ended, Ruthie was left behind to lock the door. How, she wondered, would they ever get to the root of the problem that broke them apart if they didn’t share what was bothering them?

  They stood on the grassy area beside Dr. Werther’s office, waiting for Cali to finish sniffing and claim a spot.

  “Why are you here? You didn’t have to come,” Ruthie told Gray. “I feel bad that you’re taking time off from work for a simple checkup.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about that. I had blocked out the day to install the alarm system on your shop. I’ll just get a slightly later start on it than planned.”

  Her question went unanswered. What was he doing here? Earlier he’d insisted on coming along as emotional support, but something told her there was another reason. Perhaps this was an attempt to remind her with his mere presence not to get too attached to the dog.

  Too late.

  Or was there a deeper reason? Did he also harbor a desire to resurrect their relationship? Was this his way of spending time with her so that any lingering sparks would have an opportunity to reignite? A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

  “Your safety is my utmost concern right now,” he said. “We need to find the person who was lurking around your house. If any of the staff here recognize Cali, that might lead us to the guy I chased off the other night.”

  Of course, his primary concern was keeping her safe. Protecting others must have been a trait that was genetically bred into his DNA.

  As for Cali, it hadn’t occurred to her that the dog might belong to the prowler. She had just assumed their joint appearance at her house was a coincidence.

  Gray’s hand clenched the rope attached to Cali’s makeshift collar, giving a clue that he’d like to mete out his own version of justice for the fright that man had given her. She hoped he didn’t get an opportunity to come face-to-face with the prowler and that the police would catch him before Gray did.

  It pleased her to know that he still felt those protective urges toward her.

  She glanced at her phone. There was still plenty of time before their appointment. “Even if identifying Cali doesn’t lead us to the prowler, I hope we find her owner. She’s a great dog. They’ll be thrilled to get her back.”

  Gray’s focus was on safety, but hers was on the prospect of a happy reunion between animal and human. But her number one desire was for a reunion between two humans.

  She looked up and caught Gray studying her. Could he see in her eyes how much she wanted them back together? Quite honestly, she’d rather be standing here with him, holding a plastic bag for a dog, than doing any of the other activities she’d tried to lose herself in since he returned home.

  She reluctantly turned her attention from Gray to Cali. “You’re a good girl!” She stooped to give Cali a hug and wished the recipient was Gray and that he, rather than the dog, was covering her face with kisses. “We’re going to go inside now and get your shoulder all fixed up,” she said. “We’re going to take good care of you.”

  Gray watched, apparently taking in her enthusiasm for doing what was best for Cali. “How many underdogs have you rescued since I’ve been gone?” Without waiting for an answer, he quickly amended his question. “How many four-footed ones and how many with two?”

  She rose to her feet and didn’t answer, but she knew what he was talking about. She had been the one who’d banded the girls together to share the risks, joys, and profits of opening a new business, thereby rescuing all of them from the stuffy corporate jobs that might have awaited them upon graduation…jobs that all of them would have hated.

  “That’s something I’ve always liked about you,” Gray said, as if he needed to make it clear he was not criticizing but complimenting her.

  Liked. They had started toward the front door of the veterinary office, but Ruthie stopped in her tracks. She couldn’t let this elephant that was standing between them continue to grow. At some point, they needed to get their issues out in the open. With plenty of time before their appointment, there was no time like the present.

  Softly, tentatively, she said, “Liked. You can’t even say the word love.” Rather than give him an opportunity to argue the point, she emphasized, “We did love each other.”

  Gray steeled his jaw and moved toward the door, but Ruthie stopped him with a hand to his sleeve.

  “Go ahead and admit it,” she urged. “What does it hurt to admit that we once had something very good? Very special. Perhaps it would take away some of this awkwardness that exists between us if we just got it out there.”

  He clearly didn’t want to go there, but she could be just as stubborn.

  “Are you saying you didn’t love me?” She paused, and when a sigh was the best answer she could get from him, she pushed on. “You did love me. You told me so many times, even in that awful letter you sent.”

  “Look, I’m sorry—”

  “I’m not asking for an apology. You did what you felt was right at the time.” She toed a crack in the sidewalk, and Cali read the gesture as an invitation to sit on her foot. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.”

  “You have every right to be angry.”

  “You don’t understand. I was never angry about the breakup. Confused, hurt, and bewildered, yes. But never angry.”

  In the stages of grief and loss, she’d gone through denial, bargaining, and depression, but never anger. And certainly not the final stage…acceptance. Always, always, she had believed they’d get back together someday. But that would not happen until they swept the emotional clutter—the ranzatsu—out of the way.

  “The day your letter came, I was at church, waiting for Bible study to begin. Sobo handed me your letter. She and Pop tried to pretend they weren’t watching me while I read it, but I could feel them waiting for whatever good news you might have sent.”

  Gray groaned and shifted where he stood, but he made no move to leave. To try to escape.

  “It was devastating,” she said, pulling no punches. “For me. For your grandparents, parents, and sister.”

  She wasn’t telling him this to hurt him in repayment for the pain he’d caused all of them. She was telling him because it had weighed so heavily on her heart these past four years. The only way she could begin to let go of the hurt was to confront
its source.

  Gray initially stood mute, and it was clear he didn’t know how to respond.

  Maybe it wasn’t a very nice thing to think, but part of her was glad he was finally experiencing a fraction of the discomfort she’d felt on that fateful day.

  Gray seemed to finally find his tongue. “My family always cared a lot for you.”

  She ignored his sidestepping and turned the subject back to the Dear Jane letter. “Maybe the breakup doesn’t compare to what you faced in Afghanistan, but hurt is hurt. I loved you, and you destroyed me.”

  He looked down at his feet, then met her eyes. “I know, and I’m sorry. I told you in the letter how I felt.”

  “That was a beginning,” she acknowledged, “but we’ve never fully cleared the air. We’ve only danced around the subject. It would help to actually address it head-on.”

  The leash twisted in Gray’s large hand. When she turned her attention to the nervous gesture, he stilled his fingers and asked gently, “Are you sure you want to hash this out?”

  More sure than she’d ever been. It might hurt to dig down to the truth and expose it to the light of day, but knowing where they’d skidded off course wouldn’t hurt as much as wondering and waiting. She nodded.

  “Okay,” he said, as if considering the repercussions of going into their past. “You’re always taking in strays. Always protecting others.” He motioned toward Cali, who lifted her ears to a woman exiting the small veterinary office with a cat in a carrier. “Protecting this dog from the pound.” Then he motioned toward the vet’s front door to emphasize his next point. “Protecting her from rabies.”

  “Right,” Ruthie agreed. “And for four years, I’ve been protecting you by not forcing a showdown.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw while he considered what she’d said. Quietly, he said, “Yes, and how is what you’re doing any different from my wanting to protect you?”

  Protect her from what? She needed to know, even if only to put the past behind them so they could move on. However, she didn’t want to move on. The problem was that when he set his mind to something, there was nothing anyone could do to change his stubborn mind…or heart.