Chapter Eight

It had snowed steadily overnight and was still coming down as Mia drove herself to Junebug Farms. Maggie had begged her not to go. Her daughter-in-law worried so much about her these days, and while Mia did appreciate the concern, she did not enjoy being made to feel like a feeble old woman. Yes, she was eighty. So what? She was much more active than most eighty-year-olds she knew. There were aches and pains, of course. Your body didn’t survive eighty years of living without some of those. But she was not an invalid. She was not a frail woman who needed to be carted all over the place. She’d hired a plow guy to make sure her driveway was clear, and she’d bought herself a four-wheel-drive SUV so she wouldn’t slip-slide away down the road. She’d lived in Northwood, New York, all her life. A little snow didn’t scare her.

Apparently, it scared a lot of other people, though, judging by the lack of cars in the parking lot. She recognized Jessica’s Toyota—of course she was there. Mia was fairly certain she’d slept there on occasion on the couch in her office. Thank goodness she had Sydney to hopefully keep it from happening too often. She parked and trudged to the front door. One of the handymen was shoveling the walkways and tossing pet-safe ice melt on them.

“Morning, James,” she said with a wave.

“Mrs. Sorenson,” he greeted back, and she shook her head, deciding not to gently berate him for the nine hundredth time to call her Mia. Another fact of old age—nobody addressed her by her first name anymore.

She stomped the snow off her boots, then waved to the one woman already behind the reception desk as she passed by and headed into the volunteer break room, which was empty. It was unusual for it to be so quiet there. Even the dogs seemed to be barking at a slightly lower volume than normal. She hung up her coat, fluffed her hair, then went in search of Lisa so she could help feed the dogs their breakfast. She might even peek in on the cats today, too, she decided. While she wasn’t as drawn to the felines as she was to the dogs, she did like to pop into their wing, say hi, maybe cuddle a kitten or two, or an older cat who was struggling.

The dog wing was a long stretch, with a visitation room on the immediate right and then kennels on either side. About halfway down was Lisa’s desk and workspace, and as Mia headed in that direction, she saw Jessica was there as well, the two women chatting.

“Mia,” Jessica said with a smile as she looked up. “Come look at these.” She had her phone out and was scrolling with her thumb. “It looks like Saturday went great.” She handed Mia her phone.

The screen showed several shots of Sammi and Keegan at the dog bakery. “Oh my goodness,” she said. The first thing she noticed was how happy Sammi looked, a fact she recalled from her short visit to the bakery. She supposed if you didn’t know Sammi and were looking at the photos, she just looked like a normal smiling person. But Mia knew that face inside and out, and she could tell Sammi was ecstatic. The funny thing was, Keegan had the same look. There were several shots of them, the dogs always included. They were laughing, baking, feeding treats to the shelter dogs as well as to dogs Mia assumed were customers of the bakery. And there was one photo, the last one, that snagged Mia’s eye and wouldn’t let go. Sammi and Keegan were in profile, looking at each other and laughing. It seemed like they might not have realized the shot had been captured. Sammi’s eyes were sparkling, and Mia had never seen Keegan’s smile look so genuine.

They looked like they were in love.

“Two queens was a fantastic idea,” Lisa said, yanking Mia back to the dog wing. “That was you?”

Mia lifted one shoulder. “I just counted votes.”

Jessica put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Mia here helped me see that a little progressive controversy might get us more attention. And she wasn’t wrong.”

“Has any of it been bad attention?” Lisa asked with a grimace.

“Very little,” Jessica said. “A couple of emails here and there. What is this world coming to when even the local shelter is pushing the gay agenda?” She rolled her eyes.

“What does that even mean?” Mia asked. “I mean that sincerely. I assume your gay agenda”—she pointed to Jessica—“is to find as many homes for these animals as you can. And yours”—she pointed at Lisa, for she knew Lisa was also married to a woman—“is to make sure they’re fed and comfortable and loved while they’re here. Sammi’s is to be the best dentist she can be and also be a loving human. I just don’t understand the anger.” She shook her head, baffled, and Jessica hugged her more tightly.

“If only every person, young or old, thought like you, my friend. You are a treasure. You know that, right?” And when Mia glanced up at her, there were tears in Jessica’s eyes.

“Oh, goodness, don’t you go crying on me,” she said with a soft laugh, and she hugged Jessica back. “I sometimes think I could use a wife myself.” The laughter was shared, and Mia added, “It takes special people to do what you two do. I’m honored to be able to help in any way I can.”

“Well, we’re lucky to have you,” Jessica said. “I hope you know how much we appreciate all you do here. I know we get so busy and caught up in stuff and sometimes take you for granted, but I need you to know how valuable you are to us here. Thank you, Mia.”

Mia held her gaze and gave a gentle nod. A beat passed, and she clapped her hands once. “Okay. Enough of this blubbering. What can I do?”

Ten minutes later, she was helping to feed several of the dogs. The shelter was nearly full, which was never good. But more donations had come through in the past week, and at least the stockpile of kibble had been replenished. It wouldn’t last long, given the number of dogs, but for now, they all had enough.

Knowing food was coming woke up the noise level, that was for sure. On occasion, Mia wore earplugs when she worked inside, but she’d forgotten them today, and the sound was piercing. Two tiny Chihuahuas that were found as strays and were a bonded pair had such high-pitched barks, they made Mia cringe as she approached them. But she spoke to them in a soothing tone as she set down bowls, and soon they calmed down. Luckily, they were more interested in breakfast than in nipping at her hands. She went down the line and fed the dogs in six kennels in a row while Lisa worked on the other side of the hall. Her last one was Hulk, and when she got to him, her heart cracked a little.

He was lying on the little cot in the corner. His eyes moved to watch her approach, and his nub of a tail moved slightly in a half-hearted wag, but he didn’t get up. Mia had volunteered there long enough to know the signs of depression in a dog, and she swallowed hard. Pulling the kennel door closed behind her, she went into the kennel with her bowl of kibble and lowered herself down to the floor—not an easy task at eighty. Hulk’s cot was only a few inches high, just enough to keep him from lying on the cold cement, and he had a donated blanket underneath his solid body.

“Hi there, handsome,” Mia said softly and stroked his big block-shaped head, the white hair on his chin sparkling a bit when it caught the overhead lights. “You don’t look so happy this morning. You want some breakfast?” She held the bowl near his nose, and it twitched and he sniffed, but he didn’t lift his head. “That’s okay. I’ll just hold it in case you change your mind.” She set the bowl in her lap and scooted closer so she could put her arm around him.

She did that often, sat with a depressed dog. It allowed them to feel human companionship and love—things some of them had never really known—and she often found herself able to tune out the rest of the noise of the shelter and focus on whatever was on her mind that day.

Today? It was Sammi. Well, Sammi and Keegan.

Those photos. Good Lord.

She shook her head as she replayed them in her mind. Then she slid her own phone out of her pocket and opened Instagram so she could look at them more closely and in private.

There were several shots of each woman individually. Baking, stroking the dog they brought, chatting with other customers, feeding a treat to a dog. In all of them, Sammi looked ridiculously happy. Mia knew her granddaughter well, and she knew her emotions. Sammi tried to hide them sometimes, but she couldn’t hide them from Mia. And in these photos? She was filled with joy.

She didn’t know Keegan well at all, but if she had to guess just from what she saw in the posts, Keegan had had a fantastic time as well.

It was that last shot, though, the one of the two of them looking at each other. She wondered again if they’d even known it was being taken. The photographer was behind them as they stood at the counter. Sammi was rolling out dough, and Keegan had a bone-shaped cookie cutter in her hand. They were looking at each other, Keegan slightly taller, her auburn hair pulled back into a haphazard ponytail, and they weren’t smiling. They were clearly laughing, mouths open, eyes crinkled at the corners, the happiness just radiating off them, even in a photo on the screen of her phone, and Mia had never been more sure that there was something there. Love? Something close. Definitely.

“What do you think, big guy?” She turned the phone so Hulk could see the pictures. “Don’t they look like they belong together?” Hulk’s eyes moved over the screen, as if he was really taking it in. She lowered her voice as she stroked his head. “I didn’t meddle, not really. I just pointed out the facts to Jessica. That’s all. She might not have realized them if I hadn’t.”

Hulk looked up at her then, his soulful brown eyes almost human, and seemed to take her in.

“What?” she asked him.

He nudged the bowl on her lap.

“Oh, you want to try a little breakfast?” She scooped some kibble into her hand and moved it to him. He, ever so gently, ate it from her palm, and they did this until he’d eaten the entire bowl. “How’s that? Better? You feeling okay?”

He sighed, a deep, from the depths of his body, sigh.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s kind of yucky out, but do you want to go for a walk? Maybe the fresh air will help, too.”

Hulk seemed to think it over for a bit before rising slowly to his feet and stepping off the cot. He looked at her with expectation.

“A walk it is.” She pushed to her feet.

* * *

It was just over two weeks until Christmas—and less than two weeks until Christmas break—and you could feel it throughout the school.

Her kindergarteners were bouncing off the walls, which was typical for December. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, all of it added up to small kids filled with excitement. They were loud. They had short little fuses and more energy than Keegan thought she’d ever had in her entire life. Madness, that was December.

But she loved it.

Well, she loved it when she didn’t feel like she wanted to lie down and take a nap. She was definitely coming down with something—drawback of working in a school, truly.

But she’d never wanted to be anything but a teacher, so she rarely complained. And she rarely scolded. She knew the kids mostly couldn’t help their own adrenaline. They were five and six years old. It had taken her a couple years of teaching this age before she understood that by the end of the day, they were just done trying to learn. Their little brains had had enough. She usually took those last thirty or forty minutes and let them play, as they were doing now.

And yeah, she was now sure her annual winter cold was preparing to make its entrance. Her ears felt a bit like they were stuffed with cotton, and she’d sneezed about a dozen times already, and it all seemed to be intensifying as she stood there. The joys of being surrounded by small children all day, wiping their noses on their hands or sneezing directly into her eyeballs.

She wandered the room, making sure to break up any potential arguments or to give a quick lesson on sharing, but she mostly had a good group of little ones this year. And because they seemed to be having few issues that afternoon, she was able to let her mind drift a bit…back to Saturday at the dog bakery.

Which was no surprise. She’d pretty much spent her entire Sunday flashing back to different pieces and parts of it, so much so that Jules had asked her three times if she was okay.

No. No, she wasn’t okay. Not at all.

She’d pulled away from Sammi for a reason—so she could focus on Jules—and she was failing miserably at that.

You’re already amazing. How much better do you want to be?

Sammi’s words had been echoing through her mind for the better part of thirty-six hours now. Had anybody ever said anything so kind? So genuine? With no expectation of anything in return? Not Jules, that’s for sure. Ever since she’d balked at being referred to as Jules’s girlfriend, Jules had been cooler, a bit more distant.

She also couldn’t help but return to Makenna Covington’s assumption that they were together. Not just together, but that they had been for a while. She seemed to be a really observant person, and the fact that she looked at the two of them and saw a couple, that was…interesting, wasn’t it?

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun with somebody—on a date or not—as she had with Sammi at the dog bakery. They’d made what seemed like a ton of dog treats. They’d greeted customers as they came in and spoken to several of them about the dogs they had with them. She hoped they’d garnered some more donations for Junebug Farms. And the whole time, she’d felt a slow, soft buzzing in her body whenever she was next to Sammi, a thing she’d ignored—or tried to—the entire day. But it had been there. She could almost feel it now, just from reminiscing.

“I had it first!”

The frustrated little boy shout yanked her rudely back to the present, and she broke up a fight before it got out of control, giving yet another lesson on the importance of sharing.

Not long after that, her classroom was blissfully empty, and she sat at her desk in silence, legs crossed, elbow on the arm of her chair supporting her head. Her phone pinged an incoming text.

Still on for dinner?

Jules. She sighed, not quite sure why she just didn’t want to deal with her tonight. She contemplated for a moment, then typed a response, because going out to dinner in a public place where there was noise and cold and other people was not tempting. Not even a little bit.

Rough day. Coming down with something. Not feeling great. Just gonna go home and pile. Rain check?

She hit send and felt immediately guilty, even though she wasn’t lying. And she wasn’t sure if she hoped Jules would come over and pamper her or if she’d rather she didn’t.

Bummer. Well, I don’t want to get sick, so text you later. Feel better.

“Ah, so warm and loving,” Keegan said, then tossed her phone onto her desk in annoyance and immediately sneezed. “Damn it.”

By the time she got home, out of her work outfit, and into comfy clothes, she felt like death. She took her sweats-clad self to the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Her cats were curious. Cocoa wandered around near her stomach and touched her face with his cold nose and tickly whiskers while Bean curled up between her feet, his purring vibrating along her legs. She was just dozing off when her phone announced a text. Jules changing her mind?

She smiled as she saw it was a text from Sammi.

Just thinking about you. Wanted to say hi and see if you’re ready for training class tomorrow. Followed by a couple smiling emoji.

She typed back, Hi! Not sure about tomorrow. I think the winter crud got me… She added an emoji with a thermometer in its mouth and clicked send.

And then her phone rang in her hand. Sammi was calling. Her heart rate picked up noticeably.

“Who is this and how did you get this number?” she said as a joke when she answered, then immediately fell into a fit of coughing.

“Oh my God, you sound awful,” Sammi said. “Do you have a fever?”

Keegan put a hand to her forehead, knowing it was hard to diagnose a fever on yourself. “Not sure. No chills, so maybe not?”

“You have water? Orange juice? Chicken soup?”

Seriously, how cute was she? “Yes. No. No.”

“Well, you are very bad at being prepared for sickness.” Sammi laughed softly. Her voice changed slightly when she said, “Jules taking care of you?”

Keegan didn’t mean to snort, but she did anyway. “No, she is steering clear of my kid crud, apparently.”

Did Sammi sigh? She was pretty sure she heard her sigh. “Can I do anything for you? Bring you anything?”

“You are very sweet.” It was the truth, and Keegan stroked Cocoa’s soft head as she said, “I’m just going to lie here on my couch. If you don’t hear from me in, say, a week or so, maybe send somebody in to make sure my cats haven’t eaten me completely. My mom will want something to bury.”

Sammi’s laugh was adorable as she answered, “You got it. Don’t worry about tomorrow. It’s just training class. I can do it alone. You get better because what I do not want to do alone is sing Christmas carols at the nursing home this weekend. Trust me, nobody wants that.” They laughed a bit more, and then Sammi’s voice went softer. “You sure you don’t need anything?”

Keegan had a running list of things in her head she needed: some soup, some tea, maybe a little hot chocolate later, some Tylenol, a new box of tissues, the remote, which was about three feet away from her hand instead of two inches and would take effort to reach, somebody to rub her head and make her feel better…But all she said, very softly, was, “No, I’m okay. But thank you. I appreciate it.”

They said their good-byes, and Keegan managed to stretch just far enough to reach the remote. She considered that a huge accomplishment, and now she was exhausted. She turned on the TV to reruns of Modern Family and was asleep before she even registered which episode it was.

* * *

Knock, knock!

Keegan jerked awake, momentarily confused by where she was, who she was, what the hell day it was. Which planet was this?

Knock, knock, knock!

She blinked rapidly in the ethereal blue glow of the television and the soft color of the Christmas tree lights, which made up the only light in her living room. She was weighed down by cats. Was somebody knocking at her door?

With a groan, she pushed herself to a sitting position, then had to wait a second for the wave of nausea to pass. Oh yeah, she was definitely sick. Full-blown. She swallowed several times until she felt like she could move safely.

The knocking came again, but a bit lighter this time, as if instead of getting more insistent, the knocker was becoming less sure of themselves. A glance at her phone told her it was just after seven o’clock. She’d been crashed out on her sofa for more than two hours.

She got to her feet, crossed the room, and didn’t even look through the peephole. Just yanked the door open with what little irritation she could muster, and then gasped. Loudly.

“Sammi?”

“Hey, hi. Um, I hope this is okay.” She clenched her teeth and grimaced. “I hated the idea of you being sick and alone, so”—she held up the two grocery bags Keegan now noticed in her hands—“I brought some stuff for you.” Sammi glanced over her shoulder. “One of your neighbors came in the main door of the building, so I kind of piggybacked. I didn’t know how obnoxious your buzzer might be.”

If she hadn’t been sick, Keegan would’ve been able to hide her reaction better. She knew that. But she was sick, and that meant her coping skills were low, and much to her horror, her eyes welled up. “You brought me stuff?”

“I did. Can I…?” Sammi gestured past Keegan with her eyes.

“Oh God, of course.” She stepped aside. “Come in. Please.” Sammi walked past her, smelling like snowfall and the outdoors, fresh and clean and comforting.

When she’d found the kitchen, Sammi put the bags up on the counter. “Okay.” She began taking things out of them. “We’ve got some homemade chicken soup. I took it out of my freezer after I spoke with you earlier, but it hasn’t quite thawed. Where are your pots?”

Keegan stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, and pointed. Sammi found a soup pot and set it on the stove. Then she crossed the room and laid her cool hand against Keegan’s forehead.

“Oh yeah, you’re running a fever. Let’s get you back down.”

Keegan let herself be led back to the couch where Sammi covered her with the blanket she’d been using, then grabbed another off the back of a chair. Her body started to shiver then, and she knew Sammi was right.

“Have you taken anything?” Sammi asked.

With a shake of her head, she said, “I fell asleep right after I spoke with you.”

A nod, and Sammi disappeared into the kitchen, only to return with a glass of water and some Tylenol. “This will help with the fever. I’m going to warm you up some soup.” She took the water back and tucked the blankets around Keegan. “Just relax, okay? You need rest. Best thing for you right now. Rest and fluids.”

Keegan watched her return to the kitchen. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need any of it. She’d been sick plenty of times—you couldn’t work in a school and not catch just about everything that went around—and she’d been sick plenty of times on her own. She could take care of herself. She always had. She was used to it.

But the sound of Sammi puttering around in her kitchen? The clicking of the burner being lit on the stove? The scrape of the spoon against the bottom of the pan? The warmth of somebody else in her space with her, doing things to make her feel less sick and less alone? Yeah, those were things she was not used to.

And how much she didn’t want Sammi to leave? She was not used to that, either.

Her instinct was to get up and help. Having another person in her kitchen cooking while she lay on the couch like a useless sloth was not okay with her. But whatever she had must’ve settled in and made itself at home while she’d napped because—right now?—her legs felt like they were made of lead, and something in her brain told her that if she tried to move, her aching head would simply implode. The end.

She stayed on the couch.

Drifting in and out was a thing, apparently, because next time she opened her eyes, her water had been refilled, and next to it was a bottle of Gatorade. A new episode of Modern Family was on. God, had she ever been this tired before?

“Here we go.” Sammi came in from the kitchen carrying a plate with a bowl in the middle. “I know you might not be hungry enough for the sandwich, but at least eat the soup.” She set the plate down. A bowl of the chicken soup Sammi’d brought and a grilled cheese sandwich sat there in lovely presentation.

“Oh, Sammi, this…” She shook her head, honestly moved by everything Sammi was doing. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Sammi half shrugged. “I wanted to. When you’re sick, you don’t have the energy to get up and make yourself food, but you need to eat at least a little something.”

She was hungry. The nausea had passed, and she felt like she could eat some of the soup, so she pushed herself to a sitting position and tasted it. “Oh my God.”

“I know, right?” Sammi said with a smile. “My grandma makes kick-ass chicken soup. There’s always a couple bowls in my freezer.”

They sat in companionable silence for a bit, watching TV as Keegan ate every last drop of the soup, surprising herself. “Aren’t you eating?” she asked when she’d finished, realizing Sammi had no food.

“I will.” Sammi’s smile was soft. “How’s it sitting?” She indicated the soup bowl with her eyes.

“Okay so far.”

“Good.” Sammi stood up and gestured for her to lie back down. “Get comfortable.” Then a thought seemed to occur to her and she stopped. “Would you rather be in bed?”

Keegan shook her head. “No, this is good.”

“Okay.” Sammi helped her get all situated, blankets tucked, liquids nearby. “Be back in a bit.” With a grin, she took a bite of the uneaten sandwich, and then she gathered all the dishes together and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute or two later, Keegan could hear the water running and dishes being washed, and there was something so comforting and domestic and wonderful about it that she felt everything in her body settle. Despite her pounding head and her body aches and the fever she still had, judging by the chills that vibrated through her body at regular intervals, she felt utterly content. More than that, she was almost happy. She burrowed down into the couch.

The next time she opened her eyes, it was fully dark, except for the TV and the Christmas tree. And how was it possible to feel like death warmed over and also be super cozy and comfortable? It took a moment for her brain to start firing on all cylinders—or most of them, anyway—and that’s when she realized she was lying up against a warm body. One that was way too big to be a cat. Yeah, she was pretty sure those were firm breasts pillowing her head. She glanced around without moving. Cocoa was on the chair across the room, a ball of fur curled up on Sammi’s coat. Bean was stretched out on the back of the couch. She swallowed, cleared her throat, and pushed herself up so she could turn and look into Sammi’s eyes.

Sammi was blinking rapidly, and Keegan felt her body shift and tense underneath her, as if Sammi was stretching without actually stretching. Keegan’s expression must have held a question because Sammi looked sheepish for a moment before she said, “You asked me to stay.” A chuckle. “Pretty sure it was your fever, but…” She shrugged as if to say What was I to do?

“What time is it?” Keegan asked, looking for her phone.

“No idea. I fell asleep, too.”

“Holy cow.” It was after ten. She showed Sammi the phone, and her eyes went wide.

“Okay, well, we definitely napped, didn’t we.” Her soft laugh brightened the room, and a situation that could’ve been super awkward seemed to even out. “Sorry about that.”

Keegan pushed to her feet—something that was harder than expected, honestly. Her head was light, her ears still felt stuffed with cotton, her mouth was dry, and her entire body ached.

Sammi stood as well and grabbed Keegan’s arm to help her balance. “Okay?”

A beat went by, and Keegan nodded. “Yeah.”

“How do you feel?”

“Shitty.” She sighed, noting that her voice had dropped an octave. “I need to send a text to my boss. There’s no way I can teach like this.” She fired off a quick text, then turned to Sammi, still standing there like her protector. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “It was really nice of you, what you did for me.”

Sammi shrugged, and Keegan was learning it was a quirk she had when she was feeling exposed—she shrugged like it was no big deal, when they both knew it was. “Well.” Sammi cleared her throat. “I didn’t want you to be sick all alone.” She cleared her throat a second time. “Do you need help getting all set in bed?” She seemed to realize there could be innuendo there, so she rushed into her next sentence without waiting for an answer. “I brought you some NyQuil. It’s in the kitchen. Take a dose of that, and you’ll sleep like a baby.”

“Great. Thank you.”

“Okay.” Sammi gave one nod, then crossed the room to where she’d left her coat. “There’s more soup in the fridge. Don’t forget to eat, okay? And if you need anything tomorrow, text me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Keegan grinned.

“I mean it.”

“It’s very cute how you try to be stern.” Keegan crossed the room before she could think about it and wrapped her arms around Sammi. “Thank you,” she said quietly in her ear.

“Welcome.”

She walked her out and stood at the front door of her building until Sammi’s car backed out of the parking lot and pulled away, the cold air feeling good on her overheated self as she watched the taillights disappear around the corner. She sucked in a big breath…and then ended up in a coughing fit for several moments before she shut the door and headed back to her apartment.

It didn’t take long to find her kitchen to be sparkling clean, the bottle of NyQuil sitting all by itself on the counter like a singer about to give a solo performance. She took a dose, then headed down the short hall to her bedroom.

As she burrowed down into the covers, her head feeling heavy with clogged sinuses, she found herself criticizing her pillow, not nearly as soft and comfy as what she’d been leaning against twenty minutes ago.

With a sad sigh, she closed her eyes.