Who is The Weakest Link? I always thought it was me . . . until I learned strength comes in many forms.
—FEMALE BOXER, FOUR YEARS OLD, SHELTER #S75230
LACEY MCDANIEL WAS dog tired, in more ways than one.
She hefted the ham out of the oven, grateful her crowd was happy with Crock-Pot mac and cheese, bagged salad and rolls for sides. Well, she would have rolls once her teenage son and her father-in-law got back from the store. Damn, she was scatterbrained these days.
The animal seizure at the cabin had taken a serious chunk out of her Christmas Eve. But when Animal Control had asked if she could step in to help on a hoarder seizure, she hadn’t hesitated. In reality, this was the calm before the storm since she would take in the ones that passed their temperament tests.
She’d noticed how attached Mary Hannah had already gotten to the female boxer and hoped like hell she wouldn’t get her heart broken if the dog couldn’t be rehabilitated.
Moments like that, though, drove her to keep pushing through the exhaustion for the good of the animals. As director, she’d turned a home-based rescue group into a full-fledged operation. Soon, she might even be able to make that a salaried position, which would give her more time for the rescue if she didn’t have to teach online classes to pay bills.
Though, in times like this, she questioned if she could handle the weight of running a full-on shelter in addition to juggling the needs of her family. Like today, knowing she should do more than stand outside and log in animals. Then she’d left before they were finished at the shelter. More guilt piled on top of frustration.
But she just couldn’t step inside the meth house.
Lacey tore open the bagged salad with her teeth and dumped half of it into the colander in the sink before turning to tuck the rest back in the fridge. She automatically reached for a bottle of wine, only to stop short. The last thing she needed was a fuzzy head and a weepy, tipsy ramble.
Still, her Waterford wineglass brought her comfort, so she filled it with water and tossed in a lemon slice. The fine-cut crystal piece was the last one left from her wedding set. A military move had broken the rest, along with too many dreams to count.
The will to cook Christmas Eve dinner just drained right out of her.
Sidestepping two beagle puppies curled together by the table, Lacey slid into a chair, took a long sip and tried not to be bitter over the fact she should be celebrating the imminent arrival of her first grandchild with her husband. Her dead husband. Blown up by a roadside bomb in Iraq on what should have been his last deployment before he retired. His blond, lumbering presence had been the center of her world since high school.
Allen had told her once she would be the hottest grandma on earth. They’d been standing in this kitchen, talking about their children growing up. Dreaming of spending their golden years together. Instead, her husband had died two years ago, leaving her a forty-two-year-old widow. She was forty-four now. Sometimes those two years felt like an eternity.
She’d fought hard to pull herself through those stages of grief into acceptance, and she was happy now. Truly. She had a grandchild on the way. She even had a boyfriend. Still, she couldn’t deny landmark moments like this reopened the wound.
Bottom line, she needed to get herself together before Wyatt showed up for supper. He was a good man, and he didn’t flinch when she mentioned Allen’s name, even though she could see it bothered him.
Stroking her thumb up and down the beaded notches on the stem of the wineglass, she sipped her lemon water again while she stared at the spiral-cut ham that needed shifting to a serving platter. She took another sip, wishing she could just let alcohol dull this day into a warm haze. A dangerous thought. Only since she’d stopped drinking had she realized how close she’d come to being dependent on those bottles of wine.
She had too many reasons not to drink, too many responsibilities. Starting with her teenage son and father-in-law currently buying those dinner rolls. She glanced at her watch, worry niggling. The Alzheimer’s had gotten worse for her father-in-law, Joshua, once a general in the army. Now he could barely talk, much less remember his family’s names. He’d moved to an assisted living facility three months ago and they visited him every other day, but they brought him home for holidays. Her son, Nathan, offered to help. But was she asking too much of her son when Nathan was just finding his own footing after losing his dad?
Her phone rang with a country tune Wyatt had programmed into her cell as his ringtone. She pulled back with a watery smile.
Lacey scooped her cell phone out of her purse and stepped into the mudroom, the tabby cat following, circling around her ankles. “Hello, there, everything going okay?”
“Hey, babe.” The rumbly drawl of his voice flowed over the phone lines.
“Hey, you.” She tucked the phone closer to her ear and leaned back against a wall full of dangling leashes. “Where are you? Supper’s almost ready to go on the table.”
“I’m running behind at the station, but AJ’s going to have to come back here to finish paperwork.” The familiar sounds of the station whispered faintly in the background, with other phone lines ringing along with a shout for him to hurry up. “Go ahead and eat without me. I know that puts a crimp in your plan for us all to be together tonight. Sorry about that.”
Was it wrong that she was actually relieved not to have him here this evening? To have longer to level out? “No one could have foreseen what happened this afternoon.”
He stayed silent for so long she almost thought he’d hung up, then he said hesitantly, “Are you hanging in there all right?”
“Just tired.” And emotional. “Once I eat, I’ll catch my second wind. You just focus on work.”
“Actually, there’s a reason for my call besides canceling. I wanted to give you an early Christmas present.” He pulled away from the phone for a second and shouted, “Hang on, guys. I’ll be there in a minute. Okay, Lacey, I’m back.”
“A surprise? Sounds intriguing.” Guilt pinched over her relief that he wouldn’t be here for supper. He was clearly excited about something.
“Meant to tell you earlier, but got distracted this afternoon. I was talking to my captain yesterday about the station sponsoring a shelter dog for the February competition. The captain really went with the idea and came up with the perfect candidate to be the dog’s handler.”
“Tell me more.”
“You may have noticed my cousin’s wired pretty tight. We want him to have one of the shelter dogs and work with Mary Hannah if you can convince her. I know there isn’t time to do a full-out service-dog training, or even complete the therapy-dog training. But isn’t there another level?”
“Emotional-support animal.”
“Right, sorry for spacing on the terminology.”
“You’ve been amazing in how you’ve learned about my world. I appreciate it.” And she did. She just wished she gave as much back to him.
“This is who you are. I accept you as you are.”
She knew that, and appreciated what a rare gift that was, but she just wished things weren’t moving so quickly and that she knew how to slow them down. “Um, Sierra and Mike are here, so I need to get dinner on the table. Thanks again for everything.”
“No problem, babe. I’ll see you in the morning. Love ya.”
Normally, she said it back. But tonight her throat closed up like she’d taken too big a bite of food.
Of life.
She opened her mouth but could only push out, “See you in the morning.”
Walking into the kitchen, she hung up and tossed the cell phone into her purse. She reached for her Waterford crystal glass beside the Crock-Pot full of macaroni and cheese. If ever she’d needed a drink, tonight was the night for it.
But Sierra wasn’t the only one who had to watch what she ate and drank for a baby on the way.
* * *
WITH SIERRA CLOSE on her heels, Mary Hannah unlocked her front door and pushed inside her studio apartment. Pristine, neat as a pin, and she couldn’t help but think how AJ would tease her for that obsessive organization all the way to her alphabetized spice rack and labeled recycling bins. She craved order more than ever these days.
Even if she could only make that happen inside this space of her own.
With pale green walls and refinished hardwood floors, the loft had a large television area and a raised platform for a bed under a skylight to watch the moon and stars at night. She wondered sometimes in the wee hours what it would be like to invite AJ into her bed and look up at the stars with him. To have a man in her life again. To figure out how to help that man trust her once he knew about her past. Hell, how to trust herself.
The risk was just too much. She drew in a deep, calming breath of the lavender and peppermint scents from her plug-in infusers.
So that left her with this celibate limbo life, treading water, and she wasn’t sure how to move forward. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to. Not yet. There was a lot to be said for simply not sinking.
She flicked on the living-area lights. Her cat, Siggy—short for Sigmund Freud—jumped off the back of the slipcovered sofa. She’d walked out of her marriage taking nothing except her furry Persian kitty. She’d rebuilt from the ground up with a shabby-chic-meets-flea-market restoration style.
She trained dogs, but didn’t have one of her own. Not yet. Someday. For now, she got her dog fix through the rescue. She was lucky to have this place, her job and close friends. Like Sierra.
Mary Hannah kept her eyes off her friend’s swollen stomach. “Come inside. Sit. Let’s talk. I’m so happy you’re finally here.”
Sierra took off her boots and left them by the door. “It’s been too long, and phone conversations just aren’t the same.”
Mary Hannah tossed the blanket on her butcher-block table with the mini Christmas tree. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me, too, so much.” Sierra hugged Mary Hannah as close as her pregnant stomach would allow.
The baby kicked between them. Mary Hannah felt that kick all the way to her bruised heart.
Pasting a smile on her face for her friend, she stepped back. “Just look at you, all glowing and pregnant. Not much longer, right?”
“Big as a house, I know, and I still have two months to go.” She smoothed her hands over her stomach, glowing with happiness. “It’s a boy. We didn’t want to know, but during the ultrasound he just rolled right over and flashed his boy parts.”
“Congratulations. I’m happy for you and Mike, truly.”
And she was. Sierra was the best friend she’d ever had, and yet she’d never told her about the baby she’d lost. Or the addiction problem. Just that she’d gone to grad school after a painful divorce.
It hurt even thinking about that time in her life. She didn’t know how to push the words free. But she wouldn’t let her own ghosts rob her friend of the joy of celebrating. “Tell me everything about North Carolina and your work with the magazine. I want to hear it all. You talk, I’ll bake. I promised your mom I would bring cookies for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”
“I’ll be your taste tester.” Sierra grinned, sitting on one of the white ladder-back chairs around the table. “I can’t eat the batter raw because of the eggs, so I guess I’ll just have to wait until you bring them over tomorrow.”
Eyes stinging, Mary Hannah turned away under the pretense of setting the oven on to preheat. “I’ve got a recipe for cookie dough that uses almond butter, flaxseeds and carob. I’ll make some for you before you leave.”
“Maybe you could just bring the dough to Mom’s now since the ham is ready. The cookies can bake while we eat supper.”
Mary Hannah glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks. But I’m kinda queasy from the rescue operation today. I’m going to need to shower at least two more times. Please, you all eat without me and enjoy your family time.”
“You’re family, too.” Sierra reached to squeeze her hand.
“Thanks.” But they weren’t. Not really. Just best friends who’d met in graduate school. Mary Hannah pulled her container of dough from the refrigerator; all the cookies had already been rolled and cut. She only needed to bake and ice them. “I’ve got plenty to keep me busy, then I’m going to turn in early.”
“Okay, okay. If you’re not joining us for supper, I’ll have to come right out and ask.” Sierra leaned forward on her elbows, tapping the salt and pepper shakers out of line with each other. “I want to hear all the details on your hot cop friend Mom told me about. Don’t bother denying he’s sexy. She showed me a picture of him on Facebook.”
Mary Hannah weighed her words as she placed sugar cookies shaped like trees, candy canes and reindeer on a baking pan. What was she supposed to say? That his coal-black hair curled at the ends when wet? Like when he began to perspire during sex? That he was great in the sack, like best-sex-of-her-life great?
She’d worked too hard for her peace to risk it. “My ‘friend’ had to go back to the station.”
“And? Details, please. Tell me more about the Greek-god cop,” she said with a wicked but determined twinkle in her blue eyes. Sierra wasn’t going to give up.
“He’s a police officer. Wyatt’s cousin, which you probably already know.” She pulled out another baking pan to ready more cookies for the oven. “AJ brought me home tonight to help Lacey and save me cab fare.”
Sierra frowned. “You’re really going to keep insisting you’re not interested in him?”
She shrugged, unable to push the lie out in words.
“Well, I see you don’t want to talk about him, which says all I need to know. So I’ll just leave you with your hot thoughts and hot oven.” Sierra pushed away from the table. “I should help Mom anyway. She’s acting kind of strange. She didn’t breathe any of those meth fumes today, did she?”
“Actually, no. She stayed outside the whole time logging in the animals, and left straightaway after delivering the crates the shelter.” Which wasn’t like Lacey at all. She was usually the last to leave. But then even the most seasoned rescuers could be shaken.
“Sounds as if she really does need my support tonight. You and I can talk more tomorrow.” Sierra hugged her hard again. “I really have missed you, Mary Hannah.”
“I really have missed you, too.” And she meant it. She just wished she was able to talk as easily as she could listen. “Be careful on your way back to the house.”
“I look more awkward than I actually feel.” She paused at the door, tucking her feet back in her boots. “Merry Christmas.”
“You, too, my friend.”
The door closed behind Sierra, leaving Mary Hannah alone for the first time since she’d headed out this morning expecting to liberate hoarded animals. Her own pain was never far from the surface, but today had torn away all her defenses on so many levels.
Her work with the rescue usually brought her comfort, knowing she’d helped the animals and the people whose lives they would touch. Today, though, it was tougher to imagine how things would end happily for all the dogs they’d seized.
She’d seen such hopelessness in Mama’s expression as she thrashed against the restraints. And if she was beyond rehabilitation?
Squeezing her eyes shut, Mary Hannah sagged onto the fat sofa, exhausted. Heart tired. One day at a time, she reminded herself. Get through the moment and control what she could. And above all, no self-pity.
Her head lolled back, and exhaustion tugged at her until she slumped to the side, a throw pillow under her neck. She swung her legs up on the sofa. Just a quick catnap and she would get back to the cookies.
In the late-night quiet her thoughts grew louder, memories swelling to fill the corners of her brain. Five months ago she’d been driving home after meeting with a new client, a soldier who’d lost an arm and leg overseas. He’d been out of it, but his wife and son had been with him, supporting. That frail family unit had tugged at her heart, shredding her professional objectivity all the more given it was her anniversary. Or rather it would have been except she was divorced.
Recognizing she was in no shape to drive, she’d pulled into a truck-stop bar/restaurant for food and time to recover her composure. Only to have that composure shattered all over again by a lean, sexy man with compelling blue eyes sitting at the bar with chili cheese fries and a beer.
She’d been drenched from a summer storm and ditched the professional suit jacket she’d worn over her silky sundress. The heat of his gaze had almost steamed the clinging fabric dry. His jet-black hair, a little long in a bad-boy way, had curled at the ends, damp from the rain. Without thinking, she walked past the private corner booth and parked herself on a barstool, leaving only one empty space between them.
Even now, her skin tingled and heat gathered between her legs. So much. Making her want to relive every second of that night until she found an echo of release.
Her fists clenched, and she sat up sharply.
No. She was done living in the past. She didn’t know what the future held for any of them, but at least she had an idea how to make tomorrow a little more bearable for the animals at the shelter. She got off the sofa and arranged the salt and pepper shakers so they lined up again, then grabbed her iPad off the counter where it had been recharging. She tapped the app for dog-treat recipes. She wouldn’t be sleeping in tomorrow after all.
Her Christmas morning would be spent at the shelter.