Chapter Nine
G us didn’t waste any time racing to the Deaver ranch. As he drove, he began a mental checklist of all the gear he kept in the truck for emergencies and how long it would take him to get to the calf. Beside him, Cami stared straight ahead at the road, giving him the time to think through what he needed to do once they got there. He always kept a spare medical bag in the truck for times like this when he wasn’t coming from the office.
He glanced over at her, noting how the moonlight played off her pretty profile. She didn’t have to smile to keep her lips upturned at the corners. She had an effortless, perpetual happiness to her face that made him want to be near her.
Made him want to… kiss those lips.
Since the day they’d met over a bloody nose and a newborn baby, he’d liked her. The easy way she had about her. The way she teased him but didn’t judge him. The way her laughter reminded him of bubbling champagne. He liked seeing her with that baby—with Lolly—and the way she held her as if she was her own, even knowing it probably wouldn’t last. The way she cared about Ella and how she included Luke. He had never met anyone quite like her and he wanted to know her better. And not—came the next surprising thought—in a platonic way.
No. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel. Not in a platonic way at all.
No, in fact, he’d spent most of the dinner tonight contemplating kissing her. Imagining more, if he was honest.
But there was only one word that described that kind of thinking. Reckless. His time here in Marietta was nearly up. And he’d spent the last few years strategically avoiding anything that remotely smacked of a romantic entanglement. Because… that had just seemed… impossible. He’d known his heart couldn’t afford that. Couldn’t risk it.
Despite Lissa explicitly telling him, before she died, that she didn’t want him to be alone. That she wanted him to love again. To find someone who would love him back. But those were just words that couldn’t find their way into the place that held her memory. Maybe it felt disloyal or just impossible to think about anyone in her place. Maybe he’d just not been ready to think about it. Maybe because, in the beginning, he’d dreamed of her all the time, and now rarely.
In fact, if not for the voicemail he’d saved on his phone all these years of her asking him to stop at the store and pick up a few things, even the sound of her voice was beginning to fade.
No, she was gone. Truly gone. And maybe she needed to go after he’d done the exact opposite of what she’d wanted. So, now, here he was. Still here. And Cami was sitting right beside him.
But maybe even that point was moot. Staying here in his capacity as a vet, wasn’t really an option. Marietta wasn’t big enough for yet another large animal vet. He needed to move. But he knew well what would happen once he moved to Denver. He and Cami would text a few times. Maybe a phone call now and then, then it would come down to Christmas cards once a year until he slipped off her list. There would be no enticing her to Colorado. No dragging a woman with Cami’s full life around the country with him.
She turned to look at him then and sent him a mysterious smile. “I have a good feeling about this.”
He wished he had the same feeling. But after his conversation with Deaver, the rancher, he wasn’t so confident.
“I’m sorry to drag you all the way out here. This wasn’t exactly how I imagined the—”
“You didn’t drag me. And I’m curious to watch you work. I mean, my job isn’t anywhere near as interesting.”
“ Jobs plural, you mean,” he said, really clear that she downplayed her never-ending list of commitments.
“Okay, fine,” she said, staring back at the white line in the center of the road. “Still, I’m not out there saving lives like you.”
“Disagree. You’d be surprised the lives teachers save.” He could speak from personal experience on that subject, having had teachers as mentors throughout his life.
He saw her cheeks flush even in the darkened car. “Maybe, in an abstract, long-term kind of way. But your business is immediate gratification. You save a horse or a cow or a dog. You have that to hold.”
“The cow we’re going to see tonight, she wasn’t due yet. She’s giving birth at least a couple of weeks early which complicates things for the calf and for the mother. I’m hoping for some of that immediate gratification you’re talking about tonight. But sometimes, it’s a crapshoot.”
“I have faith in you,” she said, smiling at him. “And whatever happens, you’ll do your best.”
He would. But he didn’t relish the idea of failing in front of her. It wasn’t often he cared what a woman thought about what he did. He wasn’t out to impress anyone. His job was to save lives. But he wanted to impress her. To justify her faith in him.
At the Deaver ranch, they found that the cow had been brought in out of the weather to a birthing stall in the barn. Cami stood outside the stall, watching as Gus assessed the situation with a glance.
“How long has labor been going on?” he asked Matthew Deaver, the cow’s owner, as Gus tugged off his jacket and unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt. “Any progress since you called?”
“Found ’er out in the upper pasture, struggling about an hour ago. Not sure how long she’d been laboring already, but we made the decision to bring ’er down to the barn. Settle her in where it’s warm. And no. Nothing to speak of in terms of progress.” Deaver was an older man, gray haired and worn with long years of hard, outdoor work. He took in Gus’s clothes and hers. “Dang it, I pulled you two outta somewhere special, didn’t I?”
“No worries.” Gus pulled on a clean pair of coveralls he always kept in his truck up to his waist. It was only slightly less freezing in the barn than in the bitter outside, but he’d warm up soon enough with the work to come. He handed his jacket and shirt to Cami who was on the other side of the stall, but not before he caught her expression as she took in his naked chest.
“Well. Hello ,” she said with a teasing grin.
He held out his arms with a shrug. “It’s the down and dirty part of the job.”
She sighed. “And I have zero complaints about it,” she said as she pulled his clothes against her chest. “Good luck,” she whispered.
He laughed, washing his hands under the water spigot. “Thanks.” He turned back to the laboring cow, still feeling Cami’s eyes on him.
A few minutes later, after handily dodging the well-justified kick of the mama cow, he reached inside her up to his shoulder to search for the calf, his arm covered all the way up with a protective sleeve.
“She’s a springing heifer,” Deaver explained. “This’ll be her first calf.”
It was normal for a first-time mama cow to be scared and confused. She was contracting painfully around his arm, but she was not progressing, and she’d been struggling for who knew how long already? What was clear was that the calf seemed stuck and there were lots of possible reasons for that. A breech presentation, the calf’s head turned the wrong way, the calf coming out back legs first… But this one felt… big. Maybe too big for this cow. He found one hoof and hoped he could get hold of that one and the other and try to drag it out.
“It’s dead, isn’t it? The calf.” Deaver was hovering over his shoulder.
“I don’t know yet. It might be at this point. Might be too big for this cow.”
Often these things happened in the field before anyone noticed labor’d been going on too long. And in that case, often both went down for the count. The bad feeling settling in his nearly numb arm told him this might very well be a bad outcome. He spent the better part of the next twenty minutes between contractions trying to loop a chain around the calf’s hoof and still hadn’t found the other one, which he determined was turned the wrong way.
“I, uh, put in a call for Dr. Alden,” Deaver said after a long, twenty-minute struggle.
Gus turned to the man in surprise. “You what?”
“Figured you could use the help. He should be here any minute.”
“Not necessary. But… fine.” Gus grunted with the effort and glanced at Cami, who bit her lip and had a stranglehold on the stall gate.
“Can I be of any help?” she asked.
“Thanks,” he practically grunted. “But I don’t want you near this cow. It can be dangerous.” He felt the same way about Doc Alden.
Alden was on leave and in no shape to fight with a laboring cow. Not to mention the fact that he could do no more than Gus himself had already done. But these ranchers around here were used to Alden, had used him for years. Somehow, they still thought of him as a miracle worker and in an emergency like this one, he’d ride in on some white horse and save both their cow and their calf.
He reached in a little deeper, feeling one small hoof. He hooked the looped chain barely around it, and with his free hand, thrust the other end of the chain at Deaver. “Pull on that. Not too hard yet—just keep the slack off while I find the other hoof.”
His fingers brushed against the calf’s mouth, and he felt movement. A shock of relief poured through him that the calf was still alive. Good. Good.
Finally, as Deaver gently tugged the first hoof forward, he found the second leg, slightly bent backward. Which explained the stalled labor. Ideally, two legs and the head come out first, in that order, which allowed the rest of the calf to slide right out. But when one leg or the calf’s head were facing the wrong way, it spelled trouble for everyone.
“I’ve just gotta…” He grunted with the effort of turning the second leg. “Gotta get this calf out while it’s still got a fighting chance.”
The heifer mooed a loud complaint.
Deaver’s expression perked up in surprise. “It’s alive?”
“For now,” Gus said as he managed to snag the other hoof and slowly bring it around. “Keep up the pressure. Don’t let this next contraction pull it back. If we need to use the calf-puller, we will.”
“I got it, Doc.” Deaver braced himself to keep tension on the chain.
Gus grimaced; his arm fully disappeared inside the cow as he tugged the calf’s other hoof toward the outside world while making sure its nose followed the hooves out directly. “As soon as this one starts, begin pulling. Hard. Ready? One, two—”
“Three,” came a deep voice from behind them.
Gus didn’t have to turn to know who was standing behind him, watching his every move. They pulled together and slowly but surely, two hooves emerged from the mama and then a nose, a face, and then the whole calf dropped onto the straw-covered floor in a rush of amniotic fluid.
Gus pulled off the plastic sleeve, then tore the sac away from the calf’s mouth and nose and made sure its airway was clear. A little slow to react, the calf took its time drawing breath, but a vigorous rubdown with straw and a little straw poked up its nose seemed to wake the baby up and get it coughing and breathing on its own. It was a little heifer calf. A girl. And Deaver, who generally had the expression of a crack poker player, looked both impressed and pleased, and shook Gus’s hand vigorously.
“Good man, good man! Thank you, Dr. Claymore. I surely thought we were done for here. And I was going to lose my cow, too.”
He clasped the old man’s hand. “So glad it turned out well.”
They watched as the cow licked her baby’s face, instinctively bonding despite the rough ordeal she’d just been through. The calf lifted her head and squirmed in the straw bedding, already anxious to try her legs. But that would take some time. For a preemie, this calf was fairly good sized and looked like she’d make it just fine. It was the lungs that fully developed last, and they were the only concern.
“You’ll have to keep a close eye on her. Watch her breathing. If she has any trouble, give me a call, I’ll come back out.”
“Thanks, Doc.” He turned to Dr. Alden. “Did you see that? This young fella of yours knows what’s what.”
Behind him, Dr. Alden was watching the whole procedure beside Cami without comment, until Gus stepped away from the calf. He poured bottled water over his hands and chest to wash them. Deaver handed him a towel to dry off with.
“Seems you didn’t need me after all,” he said while Deaver was preoccupied with the calf.
“No, he didn’t,” Cami said, beaming at him and handing him his shirt and jacket.
“I know that call was from Deaver, not you,” Alden said. “Don’t take offence. Some of these ranchers are slower to trust than others. You did everything right. You did it just as I would have.”
Gus nodded, pulling on his clothes. “Thanks. I’m glad it was a good outcome. For a while there, I wasn’t sure.”
“Cami,” Alden said, “could I borrow him for a minute? I just need a minute or two, if that’s okay with you?”
Cami nodded. “Of course. I’ll just keep my eye on this baby while you talk. She sure is cute. She doesn’t even look that early.”
“She’s a good-sized calf for a preemie, and I think she’ll do fine,” Gus said. “But we’ll keep an eye on her over the next few days. I’ll be right back.”
Gus and Alden walked out together into the cold dark night as Deaver talked Cami’s ear off about the calf. Alden was walking with a cane and still seemed to have a limp.
“How’s the knee doing?” Gus asked.
“Better. Almost there. I’ve been doing therapy three times a week and… well, takes a little longer the older you get. This Montana cold, you know. Doesn’t always agree with me.”
“You’re not alone there. Winters here can be brutal.”
Alden smiled at him as if considering his next words. “I’m glad, actually, that Deaver called me out. First, it got me up out of the house, which has become much too comfortable. And second, it gives me the chance to talk to you about… well, next steps.”
Gus imagined hearing a bell tolling somewhere in the distance, as the boom was about to be lowered on him. “I know your plan is to come back in the new year. I’ve already got an offer from a good office in Denver, so you don’t have to worry that—”
“Hold up,” Alden said. “Just hold your horses. I know what I said. But I’m just curious. How’ve you liked Marietta? I can tell you my clients have liked you very much. I’ve not gotten a single complaint—well, a few nervous nellies…” He hooked a thumb toward Deaver’s barn. “And that’s not an easy feat with this bunch around here. They get used to somethin’ and want to keep it. So, you, fitting right in here, well… that’s something not many would be able to accomplish.”
“Thank you, Dr. Alden.”
“It’s Joe. And I’m not being gratuitous. I mean it. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have step in for me.”
“I’ve been happy to do it. Happy for the work. And we’ve enjoyed our time here. All of us.”
Alden laughed as they reached his truck. “That little girl of yours is some little spitfire. Heard she put that Deitmore boy in his place at the pageant rehearsal last week. He deserved it, from what I hear. Rascal that he is.”
Gus grinned. “Ella is a spitfire. She takes after her mama, that’s for sure.”
“So, let me get to the point,” Alden said. “Sometimes things happen that you don’t expect, which was the case with this knee of mine. It came on slow, but you know what it takes to work around these animals at all hours. Getting up and down became hard and surgery was the only option. But even now, knowing the job, what it takes, I’m not sure I’ve got it in me anymore. And on the way, I met a certain therapist while in the rehab place.”
“Oh?”
“You see, Gus, bein’ a widower myself for the last twenty years or so, my future has always looked pretty much the same. Me, birthin’ cows, mares. De-worming and vaccinating all of ’em. Keepin’ ranchers’ herds alive and kicking. Me, by myself. That’s what I thought. But…” He turned to gesture at the middle-aged woman in the front passenger seat of his pickup. “Then in walks Miranda. The physical therapist I mentioned.”
Gus nodded to the woman through the window. She was sort of pretty and looked younger than Alden by a couple of years. But she had an infectious smile as she waved at him through the window.
“What I’m saying is, this and my current situation has caused me to reevaluate that future I spoke of and shifted it rather entirely. You see, Miranda and I, well, we’ve decided we’re going to get married. And we would both like to do some traveling before our time on this earth is up, if you know what I mean. And at a certain point, cows just don’t fill the gap anymore.”
“I—that’s—Congratulations.” Something tightened in Gus’s chest. Was Alden saying what he thought he was saying? “That’s amazing news. Traveling is… good for the soul.”
“But as you know, this job… it rides you like an anvil sometimes. Someone will aways have a sick animal. Or an emergency. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve loved doing it all these years and can’t imagine myself doing anything else. But… to everything there is a season, as they say. So, I’m giving you first crack. If you want the practice and we can work out a fair deal, it’s yours.”
For a moment, he forgot to breathe. A whole practice? Ready-made? His to keep? With a place for his daughter, for Luke, and for himself permanently? His next immediate thought was of Cami. And a cold sweat worked its way up his chest.
“I—uh—” he began, but Alder closed a hand over his arm.
“Take your time. Think about it hard, Gus. It’s a big decision. I wouldn’t make the offer to just anyone. But it’s up to you to decide if you think this place is what you really want.”
Was this place what he really wanted? And just like that, all his excuses, his reasons for going could be gone. “I will. Thanks Dr. Alden. I’m grateful for your offer.”
Alden reached for his hand. “And good work with that calf.”
*
The memory of Gus stripping off his jacket and shirt in that barn kept rustling through her thoughts as he drove her home. She’d had a good long time to peruse him, unapologetically, because he was working. His taut muscles were carved by hard work with animals that outweighed him by hundreds of pounds. And yet, his hands had a doctor’s finesse.
And she had to admit, she felt silly and clichéd that the sight of him—all muscled and fit and… well, kind of perfect —would remind her of how long it had been since she had felt her stomach coil with want at the sight of such maleness and that she was quite distracted by the memory as he drove her down the road toward home. She did her best not to blatantly admire him as he joked about their messed-up dinner date and apologized for leaving her alone to parry with Mr. Deaver.
He’d totally avoided sharing whatever he and Dr. Alden had been talking about so privately after the calf’s birth, which was, of course, none of her business anyway. Maybe it was just her imagination that Gus had seemed a little thrown after that conversation until he seemed to shake it off. Then they’d talked—she’d babbled—about nothing and everything from his high school football years to her brother Will’s NFL career, to the pageant, and Ella. And maybe she’d done a lot of the talking just to avoid the inevitable goodbye that was coming.
But at the same time, all those feelings were steaming through her, some small ancient part of her brain dedicated to self-preservation began to wave its little a red flag. Yes, this night had been good. Better than good. Excellent. Yes, she could feel herself starting to fall for him. Yes, if she were to have a magic wand to find a man who embodied her entire wish list for a potential partner, it would be Gus Claymore.
But.
He was leaving. He’d told her that much. And soon. And how was she supposed to protect herself from that? This was destined for heartbreak. Failure. Disaster even. She knew enough about long-distance relationships to understand that wouldn’t work. No, tonight had been fun, but she needed to nip all this angst in the bud before something actually happened.
Gus pulled into the driveway of the Hard Eight and stopped at the big log front porch. Before Cami could get her door open, he was there, opening it for her.
And, dammit, she liked it.
Oh, man. Her feminist constructs were having a crumbling moment, because a warm rush of something good poured through her as he helped her down from his truck, his hand strong under hers.
She found herself dreading the night being over. It had been—despite the freezing cold time in the barn—a night she wouldn’t soon forget. And not just because watching him do his thing with skill and patience had been amazing, but because they felt like they fit together somehow, in a totally impossible way. Like two planets whose orbits accidentally crossed each other, then spun off in their separate directions.
“Sorry again about the chocolate cake,” he said, walking her to the door. “Should we try that again?”
Her pulse jumped a little. And she hesitated for a second before answering. “I-I would love to,” she said. “Tonight was… more than I even expected and well, thank you. Not only for the wonderful dinner, but for letting me tag along on your emergency. Getting to watch you save that cow and calf, it was amazing. And I like you, Gus. I really like you. But… you’re… you’re leaving soon and I’m staying here. Maybe we should just leave it at one missed chocolate cake?”
A mixture of disappointment and amusement crossed his expression. “So,” he said, leaning closer. “So… you like me?”
“That’s beside the—I mean, of course I like you. But I—”
“I like you, too,” he said. “A lot.”
“Oh.” Cami took a deep breath. She was suddenly conscious of how close he was standing. They’d stopped under the porch light, by the evergreen wreath hung on the door, and red and white string lights that still twinkled, awaiting her return. “That’s… good… at least. Because it would have been super awkward if I was the only one who was—”
“You’re not.” He braced his hand on the doorjamb above her head, leaning closer.
“So,” she said, “I’m just saying we definitely shouldn’t be lured into a huge mistake over chocolate cake.”
“It’s not about the chocolate cake, Cami.”
“No?” She bit her lip.
“No. And that definitely wasn’t what’s been on my mind tonight. And, in fact, since I first met you.”
“And—wh-what’s that?”
He leaned closer, his gaze locked on her mouth, letting her know exactly what he was thinking. Waiting for her.
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Just that life is short. I’ve learned that much. And it’s almost Christmas and I want to kiss you good night.”
He was already kissing her. She could almost feel his lips on hers as he watched her. Her thoughts tilted.
“No?” he asked, with the slow shake of his head.
She did the same without any conviction as steam began fogging up her vision. Heat rocketed through her, making her dizzy. He still smelled… impossibly good, considering the night he’d just had. “I-I mean—”
Amusement curved his lips as he watched indecision scroll across her common sense. “Yes?”
“As long as it’s not just about the chocolate cake…”
“Definitely not.” He dropped his mouth on hers and kissed her—softly at first, tasting her, then kissed her again like he meant it, pressing her back against the wreath on the front door with its fragrant evergreen scent.
It wasn’t a good-night kiss. It was more of a pent-up, finally kind of kiss that made her knees nearly buckle. And she kissed him back, opening her mouth to him when he urged her, sending a riot of sensations through her that she had no control over, apparently. Particularly the needy sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her.
He pulled her up against him, his big hands scrolling across her spine and lower back. The top of her hip.
Oh, she loved his kiss. Loved the taste of him. And wanted more.
Somehow, she dredged up enough restraint to keep from wrapping herself around him like a koala, from the long, long lack of such a mind-bending kiss. Instead, she flattened both her hands against his muscled chest in a push-pull sort of motion. Stay. Go. I want you. I shouldn’t.
Finally, he broke the kiss, his breath coming as fast and hard as hers, but he stared down at her under the Christmas lights with what might be described as restrained resolve. Or barely leashed hunger.
He pushed a fallen lock of hair off her face. “G’ night, Cami.” Then, he turned and took her porch steps two at a time, tossing one more look back at her with that grin that made her toes tingle.
“Night,” she called after him, pressing her back up against the door for moral support.
He hopped in his truck and pulled down her driveway and was gone.
Good grief, Cami. What in the world have you done?
She stood in the dark another few moments before a sound to her left made her jump, and Ryan appeared in the darkness, coming from the barn. He looked as startled to see her standing there as she did to see him.
“You just about gave me a heart attack. It’s late,” she said. “What are you doing up? And why are you out here?”
He looked guilty of something, but she couldn’t imagine what. “I was, uh… just putting blankets on Kholá, Lulu and She-Ra. It’s cold out tonight.”
“I thought they were already blanketed,” she said, opening the door to usher him inside.
His cheeks reddened. “Maybe earlier. But… but I just did it and got them settled.”
Hmm. “Okay. I’m sure they’ll appreciate being a little warmer tonight. It’s really cold.”
“How was your date?” he asked, shrugging out of his coat.
“It wasn’t a date.”
He smirked at her. “Whatever you say. See you tomorrow. G’ night.”
“’Night Ry. And it wasn’t a date.” Except for the good-night kiss part. That part was definitely… the end of a date.
*
Gus bent over his daughter who was sound asleep, brushed her hair back softly and kissed her good night. He would never get over how angelic she looked asleep. How all the troubles and worries in her little world vanished when she closed her eyes.
Sometimes, when she didn’t know he was watching, he would catch her staring off into the distance, her thoughts miles from him. It was a gaze too deep for a six-year-old and full of longing he understood completely. And when she caught him watching, she would simply smile and go on with her day. He, on the other hand, would blame himself for her loneliness and vow to fix it for her. But there were some things that he couldn’t fix.
The house was quiet. Luke was asleep already, too, but Gus, feeling conflicted and off-center, decided to pour himself a drink before bed. Tension had him by the neck, and he rubbed a hand over the back of it as he sat down on the living room couch to stare at the ice cubes clattering against the sides of the crystal glass.
Downing a few sips quickly, he set the glass on the coffee table beside him and closed his eyes, thinking of Cami. About that kiss and the need that rose up in him when she kissed him back. He leaned back against the couch cushions feeling inordinately tired.
In his mind, he reviewed the night and the way she’d looked at him. Her arguments against getting involved and how none of that had stopped what had happened between them. How her lips had felt under his kiss and how long it had been since he’d kissed anyone like that.
He draped a forearm over his eyes, blocking out the light from the nearby lamp. She was probably right. They shouldn’t go there. He knew that. But they’d been thrown together because of this baby. This miracle baby, who had singlehandedly drawn them together because she needed a family. A home. Help. Otherwise, would he have even met Cami? Talked to her? Gotten to know the Hardestys? It was like Lolly had opened a door to them all.
“Because that’s what children do,” said a familiar voice from beside him.
Startled, he sat up to find Lissa, stretched out on the couch beside him, wearing those beat-up old sweats she loved and the tee shirt with the heart painted on the front. She looked strong and healthy as she had when they’d first married, not the way she had in the end. She was herself. And beside her, he felt like himself, too.
His throat clogged. His relief at seeing her again tightened his chest like a cinch. “I-I didn’t think I’d see you again. I’ve missed you, Liss.”
She smiled the way she used to when she’d see him first thing in the morning. Like he was better than her first cup of coffee. “I thought it was better. For you. You know? And you see? It was.”
It was more than just a comfort to see her again. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked good.
“So,” he said. “You saw her.”
She nodded.
“And you already know. I kissed her.”
“She’s very pretty, Gus. I like her.”
I do, too. He didn’t say it out loud, but she heard it all the same.
“That makes me happy,” she said.
The tension drained out of him, and he took a long sip of whiskey, spinning the ice in his drink against the sides. “But what if it’s more than that?”
“And… that would mean—”
“I don’t know. The end of something. Of us?”
She crossed her feet beside him on the couch and twirled a piece of her long, dark hair with her fingers. “No. There will always be an us . But you can’t be disloyal to a dead wife, Gus. Not forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to seriously let me go.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw and his eyes burned.
“Do you remember the day Ella was born?” she said, sitting up and scooting closer to him. “How happy we were? And how she was watching us through that plastic incubator, her eyes all blue and bright and locked in on us both? As if, out of all those people in the room, she knew exactly who we were?”
He nodded. He would never forget that moment.
“Well, that’s because she did. She chose us. You and me. But now, you’re all she has left. Except for Luke. And, well, now the dog.”
Of course, she knew about the dog. “I think she asked Santa for one.”
“ Did she?”
He frowned a little as Lissa laughed softly, then leaned close, close enough that he thought he could catch the sweet fragrance of her. A scent that he’d nearly forgotten except for the few clothes of hers he’d saved and never washed. The ones she was wearing in fact.
“If I could still give her what she needs, you know I would. But that’s all on you now. I wish things were different…”
“I know that.” He rubbed his forehead hard. “She misses you. So much.”
“Children are so resilient, aren’t they? She can love again. Fully and without regret. As can you, my darling.”
She got up and walked to the back of the couch, brushing her fingers along the back of his neck, like a whisper.
“That’s easy for you to say. I’m on my own here with—”
But when he turned to reach for her hand, she was gone. As if she’d never been there.
And he glanced at the louvered window and saw that morning was just beginning to break.