Chapter 29
The animal shelter left a voicemail requesting help with a group of dogs they were getting from another shelter over its capacity limit. That’s code for Hayley, we need help wrestling dogs in the shower. My least favorite volunteer task at the shelter, hands down.
After the day I’ve had at work, I just want to go home, channel my inner Garfield, and stuff my face with a big plate of lasagna while watching a period drama on PBS.
The grim expressions of the roofers who were in and out all day making assessments and coming up with repair quotes are imprinted on my brain, and I need a dose of Aidan Turner and his tricorn to evict them.
I hit the button on my phone screen to return the call.
“Little Creek Animal Shelter, how may I help you?”
“Hey, Janice, it’s Hayley.”
“Oh, Hayley.” Her voice drips with relief. “I’m so glad you called. When do you think you’re going to be able to get here, sugar? The vet is running a little late, so we have some time, but we want the dogs clean and ready for her by the time she arrives.”
Janice doesn’t even bother to ask if I can make it or not, if I’m willing to help or not.
She just assumes that I’ll say yes and immediately come running.
Because when have I ever said no? Not to the animal shelter or the church or the food bank or the senior center or anywhere else where I regularly volunteer.
My gaze swings over to my notebook, still lying on the passenger seat where I left it this morning before going into work.
I’m so tired. Physically, yes, because it’s been a long day, but I’m feeling more soul tired than anything, and for the first time in maybe forever, I’m admitting it. Nothing I do will ever be enough. I know that. I’ve known that all along.
But I have to try, don’t I? I can’t just receive this amazing gift of life and not do anything to prove it wasn’t wasted on me, prove that I was worth the sacrifice.
Even if a million check marks in my notebooks can never make the scale tip toward an equal balance, at least I’m trying.
That has to count for something. Doesn’t it?
I pull my gaze away from the Moleskine. “I’m leaving the library now. I should be there in about five minutes.”
“You’re such a godsend, Hayley,” Janice says before hanging up.
Her words soothe the raw edges of my emotions. A godsend. How can anything like a godsend be even a little bit wrong?
It only takes a few minutes to drive to the shelter.
I step out of the car and wince as I look down and realize I should’ve swung by my house and changed first. Kitten heels and a three-quarter-sleeve, loose-weaved cable sweater aren’t exactly the best choices for grooming duties.
At least I have a pair of dress slacks on instead of a skirt.
Too late now. I pull my purse higher up on my shoulder and trudge toward the front door. The immediate smell of wet dog mixed with dry kibble greets me as well as a few woofs from farther back in the building where the kennels are.
Janice swivels around from behind the front desk at the sound of the door. When she spots me, her face lights up and she clasps her hands under her chin, beaming at me. “Anyone ever tell you what a blessing you are, Hayley dear?”
I smile at her, soaking in her words of praise like a balm. “I’m glad I can help.”
“I already got all the supplies ready for you. Shampoo, washcloth, towels, that sort of thing. There’s a pair of scissors there too.
A couple of the dogs look like they have some poodle in them, and their hair is a bit matted.
What they really need is a good shave, but since that’s not possible right now, maybe you can just cut out some of the matted clumps.
I’ll look into getting a professional groomer to come in at a later date.
” Janice walks around and opens the locked door that leads to the back of the facility.
“The new arrivals are in crates in the intake room. Dr. West should be here by the time you finish with the first dog, so just bring him or her back, and then the doc will look them over.”
The phone at the front desk rings, and Janice bustles over to answer, leaving me on my own.
I’ve put in enough volunteer hours that I’m familiar with the layout of the facility, so I go ahead and make my way to the intake room.
Bright lights flood the four walls and shine off the stainless-steel exam table and veterinary equipment.
Whimpers and yips sound from the five black wire crates settled along the far wall.
“Hello there, cutie pies,” I croon, hoping my friendly tone of voice will put the most nervous at ease.
I crouch down in front of the first crate.
A midsized dog with overgrown fur tangled and matted with mud stares back at me with soulful sad eyes.
“Oh, you poor baby. Let’s get you cleaned up a bit, shall we? ”
I lead the dog to the wash station in the next room and get him set up in the shower area.
He blinks at me long and slow, and my heart breaks to see the shape he’s in.
The sound of the water turning on ignites a spark of fear in him, and he tries to lunge away from the spray.
I’m as gentle and patient as possible, but I hadn’t been exaggerating when I’d compared bathing shelter dogs to shower wrestling.
By the time I finish rinsing out the last of the conditioner, I’m soaked with water and coated in a layer of fur so thick that I could IKEA-build a whole other dog if I wanted.
I’m also utterly exhausted. And I still have four more dogs to go.
I quickly towel-dry the now-white fluffball in front of me and lead him back into the intake room. Dr. West looks up at my entrance and gives me a knowing grin.
“This one not a fan of baths, I take it?”
I push back a sodden string of hair that’s adhered itself to my temple. “Not even a little. I’ll make sure Janice notes it on his behavior checklist.”
Dr. West takes the leash from me and lifts the dog up onto the exam table while I head toward crate number two.
A couple of hours later, with all the dogs bathed, examined, and processed, I slog my way out of the shelter, the straps of my heels hanging limply from my fingers.
I groan as I open my car door and look down at the fabric seat covering.
There’s no help for it now. It’s just going to have to get as damp and hairy as I am.
I’ll swing by the car wash and vacuum the seat tomorrow.
“This is Me” from The Greatest Showman belts through my speakers as soon as I start my car. I sing the lyrics with abandon and zip along the country roads that wind their way through the outskirts of town. I’m two houses away from my own when I notice a big truck parked in my driveway.
Levi?
As soon as I make the turn to pull in, he steps out of the truck and watches me drive the rest of the way forward and park beside him. My pulse is tripping in my chest, making my movements jerky as I stuff my notebook into my purse.
What’s he doing here? My hand reaches to my hair on instinct, but no amount of primping or rearranging can make me look like anything but a drowned rat.
Oh well. Our relationship has always had its own timetable. I guess we’re fast-forwarding past the I’m looking my best for you stage and jumping headfirst into the what you see is what you get reality.
My door opens, and Levi’s large palm comes into view.
I remember the first time he offered me his hand to help me into his oversized vehicle.
His long fingers were strong and warm and callused and swallowed mine whole.
Of course, that impression had been quickly wiped away the second he’d let go of my hand and immediately scrubbed his palm roughly across his coveralls.
I grin. We certainly have come a long way in a short amount of time.
I slide my hand into his even though I don’t need help getting out of the car. I appreciate his gentlemanly display of manners and cherish the small, considerate act. I smile at him. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve made myself more presentable,” I joke as I lean forward to give him a hug.
Except he takes a step back and holds out a hand between us. “Hold on.”
He turns and strides back to his truck. My smile falls. He comes back a few seconds later with a towel that he wraps around my shoulders and tucks in so that I’m a human burrito, my arms pinned to my sides. “There.” He tugs me to his chest and squeezes me tight. “You smell like wet dog.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’m aware.” I pull back so I can look up at him. “What I didn’t know was that you were waiting for me.”
I want to hug this man back but my arms are caged in the towel, which I’m not sure is more for my benefit since I’m still damp or his since his senses are probably being attacked by the state I’m in.
I wiggle a little until I find the gap in the fabric, then bring my hands free and rest them at his sides. “Have you been here long?”
He shrugs, which isn’t really an answer but probably all I’m going to get.
“Do you mind waiting just a little bit longer? I really need a quick shower to wash off all this dog hair.”
He lets his arms fall away from me as he motions toward the house. I lead the way, and he follows.
“What are you doing here anyway? I thought our date was later this week,” I say over my shoulder.
“It is.”
I glance back at him. “So . . . ?”
“Shower first.” He points to my front door, then brings his hand back to scratch at his wrist. “You’ve got to be itchy and uncomfortable.”
I grin mischievously at him. “C’mon, big guy. You drove all the way here and have been waiting who knows how long. Don’t you want to cuddle up on my couch and talk about whatever it is that brought you here?”
“I do. After you shower.”
I laugh, the exhaustion I’d been feeling falling away.
I’m energized simply by being in his presence.
“Help yourself to a drink or whatever you want in the fridge. I’ll be out shortly.
” I hustle to my room and grab fresh, dog-hair-free clothing.
I let the warm water of the shower wash away the transfer of dirt and grime from my skin as I scrub quickly.
I try not to let my mind wander to the reason Levi is here. He’ll tell me in his own time.
Finally feeling clean, I turn off the shower, towel-dry, and put on clean clothes.
I run a comb through my wet hair but decide to let it air dry.
Remembering Levi’s comment about how I should never wear makeup, I forgo any cosmetics and step out of the bathroom, bare-faced yet secure in my appearance.
Levi’s sitting on my couch reading a book when I walk into the living room.
“What do you have there?” I ask as I take a seat beside him and tuck my legs underneath me. He holds the book up so I can read the title. “Successful Small Businesses in Rural America.” My nose scrunches. “Is your service station having financial problems?”
He sets the hardback down beside him. “No. Jack asked me to come to a meeting of the business owners in town.”
I blink at him, remembering Jack’s request that I talk Levi into attending. “And you’re going to go?”
He shrugs.
“That’s great, Levi.”
He shrugs again.
“Is that what you drove out here to tell me?”
“No.”
I wait a second, but he doesn’t expound. “Are you going to make me guess?”
“No.”
“Is it something to do with our triplets?”
“I said I wasn’t going to make you guess.”
I grin. “Yeah, but guessing is fun.”
He shakes his head. “You can be exasperating at times, you know that?”
My grin widens, then I snuggle into his side, my head resting on his shoulder as I pat his chest. “Yeah, but that’s why you love me,” I tease.
But then I hear the words, and I go still. Levi tenses under me. I lift my chin so I can see his face. He’s staring down at me, his golden eyes burning bright.
“I didn’t mean—”
His hand covers mine on his chest, cutting off my retraction. My explanation. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just joking around.
He squeezes my fingers. “I can’t say if that’s what this is yet.
I’ve never been in love, so I’m not quite sure what it feels like.
But maybe?” He shakes his head. “If this intense, all-consuming emotion inside me isn’t love yet, then it’s only a matter of time until it is.
I’m falling, Hayley. I’m falling in love with you. ”