BREATHE. INHALE. EXHALE. Simple and normal.
Don’t look. Not so simple.
Brooke concentrated on her cell phone clutched in her hand. She pretended her emails on the screen were more than spam and store alerts for blowout sales. The heavy traffic slowed their progress, yet each block the truck rolled closer to the one place she’d avoided for five years. Surely there was a different route to Earl Powell’s house.
“Everything okay?” Dan stopped at a red light.
Brooke jumped, knocked her blood pressure into overdrive and forced her fingers to release the phone. “Just checking to make sure my insurance agent didn’t send any more forms.”
Was it the next corner? Farther down? She’d have to check the street signs. Her heart raced. Thudded. She’d have to look.
“Did you finish the checklist my dad left?” Dan’s voice, mild and easygoing, nudged against her distress.
“I’m still working through the inventory of everything I lost.” Still struggling to rebuild her life on paper. There was no check box for grief. No true value for heartache.
“A few years back, I went to a call at a house fire. I overheard a police officer tell a family member to use a wedding registry to recreate what the family lost.” Dan pressed on the gas. “Maybe you could try that.”
Change your perspective. How many times had she done that with her clients? Brooke shifted, kept her back to the window and fixed her gaze on Dan’s profile. “That could be really helpful.”
The truck stopped again. Brooke refused to look outside. The quiver in her voice only now evening out.
“Last light and we’re getting out of this area finally.” Dan smiled at her. “Took us longer to go four blocks than it will to get to Earl’s place.”
Brooke exhaled, long and steady. She stayed facing toward Dan. But staring at him the rest of the drive wasn’t an option. Brooke checked her text messages. Two shelters she’d worked with the past few years requested her assistance. She replied, promising to help once she returned to the area. And she texted Ann and Don, thanking them for keeping her updated on the availability of the rental houses. Explained that Rex and the situation with Earl would keep her in the city longer.
All the while, she hushed that inner voice. The one whispering about changing her perspective on Dan. That Dan made her feel safe. That Dan would make everything all right.
That was only an illusion. She’d felt safe in her marriage, too.
“We’re here.” Dan parked in a wide driveway.
Brooke stuck her phone in her pocket and searched for the cottage tucked inside so much untamed landscape. Earl Powell had grown his own nature preserve in the midst of the urban sprawl creeping in on his land. “Are you sure?”
“I thought the same thing the first time Ava and I took a call here.” Dan opened his door. “It’s much better inside.”
Brooke grabbed the dog-biscuit bag, followed Dan and hoped they could get inside. If Earl suspected her true intentions, she doubted he’d let her pass the front gate. She stepped over vines crisscrossing the stone pavers and rang the doorbell.
The front door cracked open. A stern voice splintered through the finger-sized gap. “I’m not interested.”
“Dr. Iain Porter from The Pampered Pooch sent me.” Brooke lifted the bag of dog biscuits higher. “Dr. Iain thought these homemade biscuits might help with Sherlock’s digestion.”
The door opened enough for Brooke to see a bald head and a pair of clear, suspicious hazel eyes. Earl Powell’s stooped shoulders dropped his height closer to Brooke’s.
“Do you know who made those biscuits?” Earl studied the bag.
“I made the biscuits.” Brooke smiled and motioned to Dan beside her. “With help from Dan Sawyer’s son.”
“I know a Dan Sawyer.” The door opened fully. Earl struggled to tug a pair of eyeglasses from the pocket on his gray flannel shirt.
“It’s me, Earl.” Dan took the eyeglasses from Earl’s shaky grip and gently slid them onto the older man’s face. “You look good.”
“I’m standing this time.” Earl’s lopsided grin twitched into place. He blinked at Brooke from behind the oversize lenses. “Last time Dan saw me, I was sprawled on the kitchen floor. Not my best day.”
“Ready to run some sprints now, Earl?” Dan eased inside the home, his hand sliding across the door as if holding it open. “We still need to have that race.”
“Ten years ago, and you wouldn’t have stood a chance against me.” Earl reached for his cane on the door handle, his grip uncertain. “Maybe even five years ago.”
Brooke noticed Dan’s boot propped open the door. His hand was there to protect Earl. Brooke moved inside and took over door duty, freeing Dan to catch Earl if he fell. Even with the cane, the older gentleman looked like he’d benefit more from a walker.
“He’s not kidding.” Dan stepped beside the older man. “Earl ran his last marathon on his seventy-sixth birthday.”
“That’s impressive,” Brooke said.
“Anyone can do that.” Earl lifted his hand as if flicking away the compliment and swayed toward Dan. “Takes dedication and a commitment to yourself.”
“You have to love running, too.” Dan eased closer.
“No. You have to want to improve yourself. Do things that scare you. That push your limits.” Earl’s slow shuffle along the hallway stopped as he straightened to look at them. “That’s how you know you’re living life right.”
Dan glanced at Brooke. “Earl’s is a life very much well lived.”
So many things scared Brooke. She wasn’t certain she had it in her to push her limits. Those had already been pushed by accidents and nature’s fury. Did that mean she was living wrong?
She followed Dan and Earl into the cottage-style house—a home well lived-in from the creak of the wood floors to the banister worn from the many hands relying on its support. If she paused and closed her eyes, she was certain she’d hear the memories collected within the walls. The timeline of framed photographs trailing along the entire hallway only hinted at Earl’s well-lived life. Would she have a hallway of photographs to recapture her life in her later years? Would she consider her life well lived?
Brooke shook herself, left her introspection in the hallway with Earl’s past and stepped into a welcoming kitchen. The wide window in the nook invited nature inside. The outdated appliances, polished and proud, proclaimed some things were better with age.
Dan drew a vinyl kitchen chair behind Earl, assisting the man without fuss or fanfare. Just as Dan wanted it, Brooke assumed. Earl hooked his cane on the table and pushed up his glasses. “My body might be getting lazy on me, but not my mind. You aren’t here to drop off dog treats.”
“These will help Sherlock’s digestion.” Brooke set the treat bag on the table. “But you’re right.”
“I wanted to check on one of my favorite patients.” Dan jumped into the conversation. “And I wanted to get the end of the story about the treasure hunt. Did your great-grandfather ever find the gold?”
“Remembered that, did you?” Earl tapped his forehead with a crooked finger. “I might show you the original treasure map. But first I have to tell your friend that she can’t have my dog.”
“Can I make coffee or tea?” Brooke smiled and motioned to the coffeepot on the kitchen counter.
“I like coffee in the afternoon. One cup. Black. Nothing fancy added to it.” Earl picked up a cookie tin and struggled with the lid. “I get the sweet stuff from my granddaughter.”
“How old is she?” Brooke poured water into the automatic coffee maker and added a filter. Everything required for coffee was set out on the counter within easy reach.
“She’s twenty-two and studying to be a pastry chef.” The pride in Earl’s tone bolstered his gravelly voice.
“She sounds like someone we all should meet.” Not that Brooke needed to meet any more people in the city. Perhaps in her new home. Brooke leaned against the counter, waited for the coffee to brew and for that inner voice to quiet down. She’d only ever intended to pass through the city. She’d overextended her one-night stay by more than a week already.
“Bakes like an angel but has a bit of the devil in her.” Earl’s bushy eyebrows lifted over his eyeglass frames. “Takes after her grandmother.”
The twinkle in Earl’s hazel eyes hinted at his own devil’s streak and Brooke liked him even more. She set a mug on Earl’s place mat and pushed the limits of an appropriate whisper. “Let’s keep the cookies away from Dan. He doesn’t know restraint.”
Earl nodded and set the cookie tin on the other side, farther away from Dan.
Brooke swallowed her laugh.
“Still not listening to your partner, Dan?” Earl asked.
Dan grimaced at Brooke. “I’ve started walking and watching my diet.”
Brooke glanced between Earl and Dan. She hadn’t meant to open up anything. She’d been teasing about the cookies. “What did Dan’s partner tell him?”
“Aren’t we here for Earl?” Dan leaned back in the kitchen chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
Earl ignored Dan. “Ms. Ava lectured him about taking better care of himself on account of their stressful jobs. They came to transport me to my rehab hospital after my fall. My hip hurt, but not my ears.”
“Sounds like wise advice.” Brooke picked up the coffeepot and filled Earl’s cup. “Do you think he can do it?”
“I’m right here.” Dan tapped his fingers on the table.
Now it was Brooke who ignored Dan. This wasn’t the approach she’d been expecting to take with Earl, but she was going with it. She’d learned to be flexible and adjust quickly at work.
Earl dunked a cookie into his coffee. “Not without help.”
“Did you have help after your fall?” Brooke asked.
“Wouldn’t be walking without my doctors and therapists. And my daughter Cara, of course.” Earl chewed on his cookie and considered Brooke.
He wasn’t wrong earlier. Time hadn’t dulled or slowed Earl’s mind. She saw that in his clear gaze.
Finally, Earl swallowed and said, “Now you want to help me, too.”
“I don’t want to take Sherlock.” Brooke sat in the chair across from Earl. “But I do want to help find a good solution.”
“The only solution is to stay here.” Resolve etched into the lines on Earl’s weathered face.
The back door in the mudroom opened and closed. A woman called out, “Dad. We’re home.”
A hundred-pound golden retriever ambled into the kitchen, its tail slowly sweeping back and forth. Sherlock greeted Earl, then lumbered around the table to welcome Dan. Brooke hid her grin behind her coffee cup. For a self-proclaimed no-pet guy, animals were certainly drawn to Dan.
Earl leaned forward and touched Brooke’s hand. “You can help me convince my daughter to let us stay here.”
“You made coffee.” A woman entered the kitchen, pulled off her hat and shook out her layered gray hair. “Dan? Is that you?”
“Hey, Cara.” Dan rose, accepted Cara’s hug and introduced Brooke.
Cara eyed the Pampered Pooch logo on Brooke’s shirt and waved Brooke back into her seat. A small smile on her face. “I just came from the pet store. Sherlock spends several afternoons at doggy day care there. Although he slept more than played today.”
“Brooke came over to tell you that Sherlock and I are perfectly fine to live here,” Earl stated.
Cara kissed her dad’s cheek. “Dan wouldn’t have lifted you off the floor and prevented a house fire if that was true.”
“People are entitled to have an accident or two in their lives,” Earl countered and motioned at Dan. “That’s why Dan has a job.”
“We want to prevent more accidents,” Dan said.
Cara handed Dan the cookie tin as if rewarding him for his support.
Earl muttered to Brooke, “She’s not a good helper for Dan.”
“Do you have a plan if you fall again, Earl?” Brooke asked, wanting to keep the conversation on track.
Cara opened her mouth. Brooke shook her head, the movement small and slight. Cara bit into her cookie instead.
“I’m calling Dan,” Earl said.
“I’m sure Dan will be here.” Brooke sipped her coffee. “But what if Dan isn’t in town that day?”
“He’s got coworkers,” Earl argued.
“And very good ones from what I’ve heard,” Brooke agreed. “But what about Sherlock? What if he gets injured, too?”
Earl cradled his coffee mug and frowned. “Sherlock could get hurt in a new home, too. What if no one is home to help him?”
“That’s true because accidents do happen.” Brooke took a cookie from the tin. “It’s simple. We have to find a home where the odds are that will not happen.”
“And a home that has good heat for his achy bones. No kennels because he can’t move in a cage.” Earl sat forward and lifted his hand. “And he needs walks—lots of them.”
Brooke repeated Earl’s requirements. “If I find a home with all that, will you agree to meet the family?”
Earl touched the dog-biscuit bag. A challenge threaded through his tone. “And he needs to have homemade dog biscuits for his sensitive stomach.”
Again, Cara opened her mouth, caught herself, then bit into another cookie.
Brooke nodded. “Anything else?”
“It’s a meeting only.” Earl held Brooke’s gaze.
“Agreed,” Brooke said. “Nothing more than a meeting. I promise.”
Earl grinned as if he doubted Brooke would find someone to meet his terms. “Until then Sherlock and I stay here.”
“I’d like to be at the meeting.” Cara set her hand on her father’s shoulder.
Earl patted Cara’s hand. “Always been a good daughter.”
“I’m his favorite.” Cara grinned. “Don’t tell my brother and sister.”
The family bond between Cara and Earl blasted through Brooke, banging around those hollow places inside her. She clutched the coffee mug to combat the sudden chill sweeping over her. The truth shook her. She missed that kind of connection with other people. That kind of bond. She missed having a family.
She straightened against another shiver. Did she miss those things enough to take such a big risk? The hurt was only greater when she’d lost someone she’d considered family. She’d vowed not to go through that again. How could she forget such crippling pain? What if she wagered her heart and lost again?
No, it was better to be alone. Better than being heartbroken.
Her gaze fastened on Dan. Strong. Steady. Capable. If she loved him like family, would she lose him, too? Brooke stood up, walked to the sink and searched for her balance.
“How did you get Sherlock?” Dan rubbed Sherlock behind the ears.
“Dad refused to date after Mom passed.” Cara dropped into the chair beside her father.
“You kids were my priority.” Earl took a dog biscuit from the bag, broke it in half and gave a piece to Dan for Sherlock. “We had a good thing.”
“We definitely did.” Cara squeezed her dad’s arm, her voice light. “But that isn’t to say we couldn’t have had a good thing if you’d said yes to Paulette Conley.”
Earl gave the second piece of the biscuit to the dog. “I said yes to Sherlock.”
“And no to an even fuller life,” Cara said.
“My life was full enough with three children, ten grandchildren and now two greats.” Earl slipped another dog biscuit from the bag.
“What about your heart, Dad?” Cara stood up and poured herself a cup of coffee.
Brooke ignored her heart. That was the responsible thing to do.
Earl’s grin was lopsided again. “Belonged to your mother.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “You had more to give.”
Even if Brooke had more to give, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t tempt fate. Besides, once-in-a-lifetime love was just that: once.
“She’s always pestering me about something.” Earl cradled his coffee mug as if he held a crystal ball reflecting his past. “Been a real fine life. No regrets.”
Brooke looked at Dan. She already regretted that she’d have to say goodbye to him soon.
“You don’t ever think about Paulette Conley and what might’ve been?” Cara asked.
Brooke lived with endless what-ifs. Now she’d have even more about Dan. But her heart would be intact. That was good, wasn’t it?
“Not that I’m admitting to. I’d never hear the end of it.” The smile Earl aimed at Brooke shifted into his bright eyes. “Cara would probably go find the poor woman.”
“It’s never too late.” Brooke managed a small smile to conceal her lie. Perhaps it was too late for herself, but not Earl.
“I’ve already climbed my hill and I’m on the back side now.” Earl pointed his arthritic finger at Brooke and Dan. “It’s not too late for you two, though.”
“It’s not like that.” Dan pushed away from the table. “I’m divorced. She’s a widow.”
That only sparked Earl’s interest. “Seems fortunate if you ask me.”
“We’re just friends,” Brooke stammered. Her heart raced in her chest as if to remind her she still had one. “Only.”
“My husband was supposed to be only a friend, too.” Cara added more sugar to her coffee. “Been married forty-four years this coming November.”
Earl slapped the table and laughed. “Nothing wrong with marrying your friend. That’s what I did. Lasted almost twenty years.”
Brooke had tried that once, too. She had three years in her memory book.
“That’s the best you can do.” Earl quieted. “Surround yourself with family that loves you and you love back for the time you’re given.”
Family. Love. Was there ever enough time?
“And have no regrets,” Cara added.
“I’ll have regrets if Sherlock isn’t taken care of properly. Sherlock took care of me and kept me from being lonely all these years. It’s only right that I do right by him now.” Earl closed the bag of dog biscuits and looked at Brooke. “You understand that, don’t you?”
Brooke stepped to his side. “I promise I won’t let you down.”
“We appreciate the help, Brooke.” Cara rinsed her coffee mug in the sink. “Dad, we have to go. My granddaughter has a recital tonight.”
“But Sherlock hasn’t gotten any exercise,” Earl said. “You said yourself he slept all day.”
“We can walk him,” Dan offered, then glanced at Brooke.
She forced herself to nod. Dan will keep you safe.
“You don’t mind?” Earl asked.
“It’s not a problem.” Dan would be with her. She’d come to help Earl and Sherlock. Backing away wasn’t the right thing to do. “Then you won’t be late for the recital.”
“I’ll show you where the back-door key is hidden.” Cara yanked her hat on her head. “Dan should know where it is in case my dad calls him.”
Dan asked Cara for a pen and paper. He wrote on it and handed the paper to Earl. “This is my personal cell number. Call me whenever.”
Brooke accepted Sherlock’s leash from Cara, fastened it onto the dog’s collar and fastened her heart back inside her chest. She wasn’t someone who melted at thoughtful gestures. She wasn’t someone who listened to her heart. Especially when it whispered about falling in love.