“MMM . . . WHAT SMELLS SO GOOD?” BEN ASKED WHEN HE CAME INTO the kitchen.
“Supper,” Macey said, taking a sip of her wine.
“And what is supper?” He lifted the top off the slow cooker to release a savory steam.
“Chicken soup—my own recipe.”
“Well, it smells amazing,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I knew I married you for a reason—you’re beautiful; you have a sweet, sexy Northern accent . . . and you can cook!” He kissed her neck. “Mmm . . . and you smell good, too.”
“Thanks,” Macey murmured, loving his arms around her.
He softly kissed her lips. “Missed you.”
“Missed you, too.”
“How was breakfast?”
“Good.”
“Just good?” he said, breaking off a piece of French bread and dipping it into the olive oil she’d drizzled on a plate.
“Yeah, just good. I mean it was great to see Maeve, but I wasn’t very hungry, and when we went shopping, I couldn’t find a shirt I’ve been looking for, and then we went to get mums and there was a pet-adoption event in the parking lot and we saw this beautiful golden retriever who’s been in the shelter for two years and Maeve kept . . .”
Ben frowned. “How come no one adopts him?”
“He only has three legs.”
“What happened to him?”
“Cancer. They had to amputate one of his front legs.”
“Oh,” Ben said quietly. “Does he have trouble getting around?”
“Not really—I mean he hopped over to say hello, but I don’t know how he manages stairs.”
“How did he end up in the shelter?”
“His owner died.”
“Wow, that’s really sad.”
Macey nodded. “Maeve thinks we should adopt him. I told her there was no way, but you know how persistent she can be, and she just kept pressing it, and now I can’t stop thinking about him. He must really miss his owner, and he must wonder what in the world happened that he has to live in a kennel.”
Ben nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure he does, but you’re right—we can’t take on the responsibility of a dog, especially one that’s handicapped. “
“I know,” Macey agreed, “but I keep picturing him lying on the cold kennel floor all by himself.”
“I’m sure he has something soft to lie on—a bed or a blanket.”
“I doubt it,” Macey said skeptically.
Ben slipped two ice packs from his cooler into the freezer, closed it, and opened the fridge for a beer. He flipped the cap into the garbage and took a sip. “What time is supper?”
“Now,” Macey said, drizzling homemade dressing onto their salads. “You can serve your soup, if you want,” she added, motioning to the bowls next to the slow cooker.
Ben scooped a generous ladleful of soup into a waiting bowl and grated some pepper on top. “Want me to serve yours?”
“No, thanks,” Macey said, slicing the crusty baguette. “I’m not very hungry.”
“You need to eat, Mace. To heal,” Ben said softly.
“I know,” Macey said, putting a couple slices of bread on Ben’s salad plate. Then she ladled a small amount of soup into a bowl, sat down across from him, and took another sip of her wine.
“You also need to eat because you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.”
“I am eating,” she added, motioning to the steaming bowl of soup in front of her.
He eyed her. “I want to see it empty.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, dipping in her spoon and gently blowing on it. “How’s the house coming?”
“Slowly,” he said, breaking off a piece of bread and dipping it in his soup. “Gus stole a piece of Jim’s bagel again this morning,” he said chuckling. “He’s so funny—he waits until Jim’s not paying attention and then he races off with whatever Jim was snacking on.”
Macey smiled, picturing the scene, and then her face grew serious. “You know, if Gage brings his dog to work, why couldn’t you?”
“Well, for starters, I don’t have a dog. . . .”
“But if you did?”
“You know I love dogs, Mace. We always had one when I was growing up, but my mom was home all day. We both work all day, and from what you say, if he only has three legs, I’m sure getting around must be a challenge. He certainly doesn’t need Gus chasing him—which I’m sure he would do if I brought him to work with me.”
“He might be fine with it.”
“He might be, but what if he isn’t? Then what? Do we take him back?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “We would figure something out.”
Ben could tell the wheels in Macey’s head were spinning—which always meant trouble. He also knew her emotions were raw from losing the baby, but was getting a dog the solution? Would a dog—especially one with a handicap—ease their grief or only add to it?
“I don’t know, either, Mace. It’s a pretty big risk, and if we have to give him back, it will just cause more heartache.”
“I guess you’re right,” Macey said with a resigned sigh. She pushed her barely touched soup away and pulled her glass closer.
“But if you never take a chance,” she added wearily, “how do you know?”
“I don’t think it’s a chance we should take right now,” Ben said softly. He mopped the bottom of his bowl with the last of his bread and realized she had barely touched her soup. “Are you going to finish?”
“No. I’ll have it tomorrow.”
Ben frowned. “I’ll get the dishes. Why don’t you go relax?”
Macey nodded, refilled her glass, and took it out on the porch while Ben put the remaining soup in a Tupperware and filled the sink with hot, sudsy water. As he washed the dishes, he looked at the long shadows stretching across the lawn and heard Macey’s question echoing in his head. The Macey he’d known and loved all his life had always been eager to take chances. She’d ventured off to college, and then all across Europe—Paris, Munich, London, Geneva—and when she’d finally come home, she’d taken a chance on him. After they’d married, she’d pressed him to buy a big Victorian house that needed a ton of work. Nothing daunted her. Nothing stopped her from moving forward. She was always eager to learn, to explore, and to love with all her heart. The five miscarriages, one right after another, had taken the wind out of her sails, though, and they’d broken her heart. Those losses had changed her. She wasn’t the free spirit who always threw caution to the wind anymore. And just now, when she half-heartedly asked the question, If you never take a chance, how do you know? it sounded as if she was trying to remember something she’d once believed but had, somehow, lost.
Ben dried his hands and went out on the porch to sit next to her. She smiled. “I can’t believe it’s the end of September. Where did the summer go?”
Ben looked at the fading light. “I don’t know where it went. I don’t know where the years have gone. We just keep getting older, and the older we get, the faster time flies.”
“Before you know it, we’ll be members of the Sundowners’ Club.”
Ben smiled. “We will.” He hesitated, turning the words he wanted to say over in his mind. He wanted to tell her he was willing to go see the dog, but he knew, if he did, there’d be no turning back, and as much as he wanted Macey to feel better—to be the feisty passionate woman he loved—he wasn’t convinced that adopting a dog was the answer.