Chapter 22

There were places where you could go a hundred times and still feel like a foreigner or, at best, an interloper—the post office fit the bill for Kelsey—and there were places you could go only once and feel you absolutely, unequivocally belonged. This had happened the first time Kelsey visited the shelter.

She knew she belonged, and in a big way. Despite the small staff size, getting hired had fallen into place easier than many other things in her life. Seven years later, looking around the building as it underwent changes and renovations, Kelsey still felt the same sense of belonging and ease. She sank into the familiar, one-leg-was-just-a-touch-shorter-than-the-rest chair at her desk and placed her palms flat against the wooden top, savoring a moment of quiet.

Hearing the plop of one of her favorite human’s bodies into a chair, Trina raced over and hopped up onto the desk with the grace and ease of a cat who wasn’t missing one leg.

“I can always make time for you, girl.” Kelsey leaned forward and let Trina sniff her nose and face before the attention-loving cat began to rub against her.

It was so nice to sit and do nothing. Even if it was only for a minute or two. At Sabrina’s house, there was always another item to be checked off a seemingly endless list. Here, it was basically the same, but there was a coziness about the place that most everyone slipped into savoring from time to time.

And now was as good as any. All the volunteers had gone home early, and there were no customers. Fidel was in back clanging around by the kennels, and Patrick was out front using a hose with a nozzle powerful enough to wash away the bird poop that collected under the big oak that pushed the sidewalk up near the parking lot entrance. This was a chore he saved for when he needed to work through something. Since things were going so well here and his home life was usually predictably quiet, Kelsey suspected he was still reeling about Mason Redding’s accident and the struggle the Red Birds were having in the playoffs this year. He was a Red Bird fan to the bone.

Since Megan had left for Georgia last Friday, Kelsey had been here a few hours during the midday rush each afternoon. The most eventful thing that had happened was when a laid-off construction worker came back for the senior Bernese mountain dog he’d surrendered three months prior. He’d found work and, with his first paycheck, had come back inquiring whether the old dog had been adopted. The man was quiet and reserved, and if Kelsey wasn’t so head over heels for someone with a similar demeanor, she might have mistaken his feelings for indifference.

She’d seen his hands shaking and couldn’t help wondering if he was someone who held everything in. He’d done nothing more than nod and swallow when she admitted that while a few people had shown interest, his dog was still here. Moose was a good, quiet dog, but at seven and a half, he was nearing the end of the average lifespan for the breed and was already down in his hips.

She’d pulled Moose from his run and brought him to the front room to reintroduce them. As soon as his master said his name from across the room, Moose let out a high-pitched bark and bounded over in a way that seemed to shed the years from him.

The man had dropped to his knees, breaking into tears and bear-hugging the ecstatic dog. There hadn’t been a dry eye in the place, and this included a handful of visitors too. Kelsey waived the re-adoption fee and sent the man home with a two-month supply of Moose’s new arthritis medicine.

The experience reminded Kelsey of how much she enjoyed witnessing the love connections that took place here every day. Some were small and subtle; others were so touching that she’d ride on the glow of them for days, remembering all the things she loved best about the world.

A small part of her wondered how it would feel to come back here full time, whenever that might be. If it’d be like she’d never left and the rehab had never happened. Some days, it seemed like the rehab would go on forever. That she and Kurt and the dogs and Mr. Longtail were right where they were supposed to be, and things were never going to change.

But what would happen when the court case was over and the last dogs were ready to be brought here? Just as she couldn’t imagine leaving Mr. Longtail all alone in a big, quiet house again, she couldn’t imagine not seeing Kurt for an extensive part of her day. She’d never hold the dogs back a single day from the new lives that would be waiting for them—and the more publicity they got, the more certain she was they’d all find loving homes—but moving on might very well crush her.

And what would Kurt do? Would he head west like he’d been talking about when they met, or would he want to go back to the post? Did he care about her enough to stay? Her heart thumped at the idea. Beyond any doubt, she wanted him to. She wanted him in her life. Every day. She just hadn’t been able to gather the nerve to tell him.

If everything went as planned, tomorrow—Megan and Craig’s reception—could prove to be a really defining day. Not only would there be dancing and music and all the wine and fine food they might imagine, but there’d be a fancy room in a high-end bed-and-breakfast with his and her bathrobes and a hot tub and a private deck and God knew what else.

Feeling a wave of excitement mixed with insecurity wash over her, Kelsey laid her head on the desk. She heard a soft clunk and the rolling of glass on wood, and something bumped the top of her head. Sitting upright, she picked up the handblown glass fishing float she’d found on the Oregon coast as a kid. It had rolled off her monitor riser. Every time she looked at it, she remembered the muted surprise of finding it on the beach half-covered by sand. She remembered her father’s joy and his powerful hug and his exclamation of what a lucky girl she was.

She cupped the glass float in both hands. It was a little larger than a billiard ball. The cool, green glass was translucent and even prettier in the sunlight.

“You’d look good in the light that pours through Sabrina’s kitchen window.”

Talking to animals is one thing. Talking to glass orbs is another.

Still, she couldn’t escape the feeling that this float needed to be rehomed to Sabrina’s house. She’d had it on her desk forever. But she didn’t need a float to bring her luck. What she needed was confidence.

And to arrive on time to the mani-pedi she’d scheduled for three o’clock, which was only ten minutes away. If she didn’t take the time out today, she wasn’t going to get it done. Tomorrow was going to zoom by in a whirlwind of activity. Not only did she plan to work the first half of the day at Sabrina’s, but she’d also promised to help get everything set up at the winery, and she’d still need to find time to look her best.

Dropping the float in her purse, Kelsey gave Trina a quick scratch on the chin and headed for the door. With the dress she’d found, this mani-pedi, an updo, and some new makeup, she was hoping to knock a certain ex-marine’s socks off.

Or maybe just his pants.

When she stepped outside, Patrick was rolling up the hose, talking to himself.

“Hey, I’m heading out,” she called, walking his way.

Patrick dragged his wet fingers through his hair, leaving a visible trail of moisture. “Does Kurt need you to feed tonight? Are there volunteers coming in?”

“Um, there are a couple guys coming in. I could probably miss it, if needed. What’s up?”

He grinned the same way he did when he watched puppies at play. “I had an idea. To make it work, I need you.”

“Okay. How soon? I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes to get my nails done. It shouldn’t take more than an hour though.”

He glanced skyward, working through something. “That should give us just enough time. Text me the address. I’ll pick you up in one hour.”

“Okay. Do you want to tell me what this is about?”

“No.”

Her fault. Patrick took all questions at face value. Oh well, there’s the air of mystery to hold on to. “Then I guess I’ll see you in an hour.”

* * *

Kelsey was still wearing foam thongs and had her nails under a fan when Patrick pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall. Her jaw dropped at the sight of the monster of a dog in the backseat of Patrick’s old Tacoma truck. She’d ridden back there once. Clambering into it had been a chore. How Patrick had gotten the giant dog loaded, she couldn’t fathom. And how he’d gotten Kurt to agree to taking him off property was an even bigger mystery.

She did a quick touch test of her toes and fingers. Deeming her nails sufficiently dry, she grabbed her purse and sandals and shuffled out to meet him.

Patrick had rolled his window down and was looking like a kid the night before Christmas.

“Patrick, why is Devil in your truck?”

“Because of my idea.”

Patrick had gone to the Raven estate every afternoon for a week to work with the ginormous dog, but no great strides seemed to have been made in Devil’s behavior. Moving his kennel to the window had kept him from gnawing it to shreds but hadn’t kept him from lunging at the other dogs when he was led too close to their kennels. While several of the other dogs had now been introduced to Orzo on leash, the idea of seeing how he and Devil got along seemed liked a fairy-tale dream.

Devil tolerated people but had little interest in them. Patrick might eventually prove to be an exception. When he praised the indifferent dog for good behavior, Kelsey had actually seen Devil’s ears perk and his tail thump a time or two.

“Is he going to be okay when I hop inside?”

“He should be, and he’s harnessed in.”

“How did you ever manage that?”

“He’s irritable but consenting.”

Keeping her movements calm and purposeful, Kelsey slid into the worn cloth passenger seat, feeling awed by the sheer volume of space Devil occupied behind her. He could tie a show pony in a shadow-making contest.

“So, can you please tell me where we’re headed? The suspense has just quadrupled.”

“Edwardsville.”

She waited, hoping Patrick would offer more explanation on his own. The truck interior smelled like dog breath, and she focused on breathing through her mouth. Devil was panting, his head was cocked, and he was eyeing her with big, brown eyes.

“What’s in Edwardsville?” she asked as Patrick merged onto the street.

“Devil’s old vet. The one who microchipped him.”

“I thought his microchip was a dead end.”

“It was.”

When it became clear he didn’t intend to add anything else—Patrick was a one-task-at-a-time guy, and now he was driving—Kelsey drew in a controlled breath. As soon as he stopped at a light, she blurted out, “So why are we going there now? What purpose do you think it’ll serve?”

“Devil is different from the other dogs.” Patrick drummed the steering wheel with his fingers. “Like I said before, he doesn’t want to connect with us. I don’t think he’s watching the door and staring out the window because he wants to guard the house. I think he’s looking for someone. Someone in particular.”

Kelsey frowned. “His first owner? Devil’s microchip wasn’t even registered. Who knows if the person who first adopted him kept him. Dogs his size often pass through a lot of homes. And the vet stopped treating him before he was a year old.”

“Yes, when his owner moved.”

When the light turned green and Patrick didn’t add to his train of thought, Kelsey determined she’d need to settle in for the forty-five-minute drive and learn his plan when they got there. With Devil’s panting and pervasive dog breath, and Patrick keeping to the speed limit but choosing to drive in the left lane since highway studies had determined it to incur the least number of accidents, the drive was close to torture.

She sent thanks to the heavens when they pulled into the veterinarian’s parking lot at ten minutes before five, with the office scheduled to close for the day at five.

Through the glass, Kelsey could see a woman leading a long-legged poodle toward the exit. Otherwise, the waiting room was empty.

“Will you go in ahead of me and tell them we have a socially challenged dog coming in? I’ll wait till you wave that the room is clear.”

“Sure, but what if they ask how come?”

Patrick’s forehead knotted in confusion. “A veterinarian’s office should understand that dogs who’ve been in fighting rings need an extended period of—”

Kelsey held up her hand. She’d figure it out when they got inside. “Okay, got you.” She passed the poodle and owner on the sidewalk and headed in. There were two people behind the desk, a guy and a girl. She gave them the heads-up Patrick had asked her to, but had no idea how to explain why they were here. Once Patrick was given the all clear, Devil hopped out of the back with more grace than Kelsey could’ve guessed.

The guy behind the desk huffed as he took in the sight of them through the large front window. With his massive head and giant body, Devil probably outweighed Patrick. The top of his head was just higher than Patrick’s navel.

Kelsey held the door as Patrick led Devil in, the leash short and secured with both hands. The lobby was clean, sparsely furnished, and smelled of astringent. The hair atop Devil’s haunches stood on end, but he seemed otherwise calm. He sniffed the air, and lines of drool started to form at the edges of his droopy jowls. He pricked his ears at a muffled bark coming from behind a set of swinging doors at the back of the building.

“How can we help you?” the guy behind the desk asked.

“This dog was microchipped here when he was ten months old. We’d like to get him home to his original owner.”

The girl popped up from her chair and pressed her palms flat on the counter. “Oh my God, is this him? Is he the guy they called about who was captured in that fighting ring? We don’t get dogs that size very often.”

“Yes, this is the dog,” Patrick replied. He dove into a Patrick-paced explanation of Devil’s behavior and how he felt that what the dog needed more than anything was to reconnect with someone he’d bonded with prior to his traumatic fighting time.

“Poor thing. Denise took the call. I heard about it later. We’d love to help get him home, but Denise said we don’t have a forwarding address or working phone number for his owner. She moved out of the area several years ago, and we only have her old address on file. The post office will no longer forward her mail either.”

“But you have a name.” Patrick followed this with an emphatic nod, as if that explained everything. He pulled a piece of paper from one of the pockets of his cargo pants. “This is the number of his chip.”

The girl turned toward her coworker. He gave her a light shake of his head. “You can’t give them her name,” he said under his breath.

“His owner was a woman?” Patrick passed Devil’s leash to Kelsey and pulled a small stack of index cards from a different pocket.

The guy looked at Patrick and nodded. “If I remember correctly.”

Devil sank onto his haunches while Patrick sorted through the cards. “That narrows it down. I’ve been searching through all of the popular big dog blogs and messaging some owners that live in the Midwest. A few have responded, and I’ve ruled them out. I found seven people within a half-hour drive of here, and from comments left by similar user names on other sites, I believe I’ve linked two of those seven to bluegrass music by their attempts to win tickets to local concerts. I suspect Devil’s owner is one of them.”

The girl behind the counter shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

Patrick singled out two cards. “I’d like to give you the names of the two women, and you can tell me if one is a match. If it’s one of them, I’ll be able to lead you through a Google search to help you find her contact information.”

Kelsey felt a wave of admiration wash over her. Patrick was an absolute genius at so many things. What a miracle it would be if this worked! But what if they found her, and she’d given him away? What if she wasn’t the one Devil seemed to be looking for?

Behind the counter, the two technicians huddled over one monitor. The girl entered the microchip number and clicked through several screens before flipping between the two cards. When she looked at the second card, her lower jaw fell open.

Kelsey grabbed Patrick’s elbow. “It’s a match, isn’t it?”

“Well, what do you know,” the guy said.

“That’s Tina’s card.” Patrick looked at Devil and said her name again. Kelsey suspected the single thump of his tail was more because he was becoming attuned to Patrick’s voice than anything else. “Tina F. was how she signed in on the blog.” He looked at Kelsey. “She didn’t disable the tracking stamp on her photos. I could find her house. If she hasn’t moved again.”

Kelsey bit her lip. “I think it might be best to call or send a letter. It could be a bit much, you know.”

“The dog was eleven months old the last time he was seen here. Before that, she had him immunized regularly. He’s a month away from being six years old now.” The girl passed Patrick back the cards. Immediately after the F, she’d added erguson and scribbled Tina’s old street name underneath. “You’re so close to getting there that it makes sense for this phone call to come from you.”

Tina Ferguson.

They thanked her and headed for the door.

“Hey, will you let us know if it works out?”

Kelsey promised she would. With no other dogs in the area, Kelsey walked Devil around a mulch island for a bathroom break while Patrick searched on his phone.

As Devil was pulling in his haunches and taking a massive poop, Patrick let out a single humph. Kelsey looked over to find him engrossed in his phone. Pulling a bag from the nearby bag stand, she asked, “You found her number, didn’t you? It’s hard to believe it’s that simple.”

“It’s become easy to find people if you know where to look.” He offered Kelsey his phone and reached for the bag. “You should be the one to call. You’ll come up with better words than I would. I’ll bag it.”

Kelsey let her thumb hover over the number. What happened if Tina had given Devil up and wasn’t interested in reconnecting with him? She took a breath and pressed Dial. She was almost relieved when the call went to voicemail after the fourth ring.

She left a vague message, saying only that she was with the High Grove Animal Shelter and wanted to talk to Tina about a possible former pet. She ended the call and handed Patrick back his phone.

“I expected her to answer,” Patrick said, his forehead wrinkling.

“We have her number now. We can keep calling if we need to.” Kelsey squeezed his arm as they headed for the truck. “I’ve known you for five years, and hardly a week goes by that you don’t amaze me with some crazy fact you know or something remarkable like this that you do.”

Compliments weren’t something Patrick processed easily. He gave her a confused look as he opened the passenger-side door. The seat was still flipped up. He was able to motion Devil in and hook up his harness with almost no cajoling. Then he snapped back the passenger seat and jogged around to the driver’s side.

“Thank you for coming” was all that he said before he started the ignition and busied himself in the activity of driving.