MACEY SMILED AS SHE WATCHED THE LITTLE GIRL WITH COPPER HAIR and cinnamon freckles reach for Cora’s hand. She looks like I did when I was little, she thought.
“I’m a-comin’, honey, I’m a-comin’,” Cora said, propping her glasses on top of her head and gathering her things.
“Hello, ladies,” Macey said, holding the door. “How’ve you been, Cora?”
Cora squeezed Macey’s hand as she walked by. “I’m doing okay, but my friend Harper, here, had a pretty big scare th’other day.”
“So I heard,” Macey said, her face shadowing over with concern. “How’re you feeling today, Harper?”
“Okay,” the little girl answered with a shrug. “My chest doesn’t hurt.”
“That’s good,” Macey said, squeezing her shoulder and feeling Harper pull slightly away—it was just enough for Macey to realize her touch wasn’t welcome.
“Let’s see how much you weigh,” Macey said, stopping at a scale in the hallway. Harper stepped on and watched Macey slide the weights back and forth. “Sixty pounds . . . and”—she slid the measuring rule down on top of her head—“fifty-two inches.”
“Four-foot-four,” Harper whispered, calculating in her head.
“That’s right,” Macey said with a smile. “Are you a basketball player?”
“No. Rudy and I play H-O-R-S-E sometimes, but that’s it.”
“I bet you’re a good shot.”
Harper shrugged, and Cora laughed. “She’s a better shot than my Frank!”
“No, I’m not,” Harper countered, rolling her eyes. “Frank’s really good.”
Cora sighed, shaking her head, and Macey laughed. “If you’re good at sports, it’s better to be modest—that way the other team is caught off guard.”
Harper crossed her arms, rolled her eyes again, and didn’t reply. Macey chuckled to herself—Harper reminded her a little too much of herself. She continued down the hall to an open exam room and motioned for her to hop on the table. “So, Harper, when was the last time your chest hurt?”
Harper shrugged and looking questioningly at Cora.
“Only you know, baby.”
“In the hospital, I guess.”
Macey looked at Harper’s file again. “It says here you were released this morning. Does that mean it hurt this morning? Or yesterday? Or a few days ago?”
“A few days ago.”
Macey nodded as she typed the results of Harper’s temperature, pulse, and blood pressure into her laptop. “And how long have you been having these pains?” She looked up and noticed Harper’s eyes for the first time—they were the same beautiful color as Ben’s, except she had specks of gold flecking the blue around her pupils.
Harper shrugged. “I dunno. Since I was seven? It’s been worse lately.”
“Can you show me where it hurts?”
“Right in the middle,” Harper said, pointing to her sternum.
Macey nodded and looked at Cora. “Heather said there are no medical records, other than this file?”
Cora sighed. “We know Harper was born in Atlanta, but I don’t know if they have anything up there.”
“When’s your birthday, Harper?”
“March first.”
Macey tapped this last bit of information into her laptop and looked up. “All right. Dr. Hack will be right in. Always good to see you, Cora, and it was really nice meeting you, Harper.”
She closed the door behind her, and then closed her eyes, trying to shut out the image of the little girl with the potentially serious heart condition sitting bravely on the exam table. With some patients, she’d learned, it was better to not get emotionally involved. She had enough going on.
She walked back to the staff room, took a sip of her coffee—now cold again—and sat down to finish her paperwork for the day. Just as she was gathering her things, Dr. Hack came in, looking dismayed.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe the state doesn’t have any medical records—how was she even able to go to school?” He rubbed his eyes. “Melissa is making an appointment at Savannah Children’s Heart, and I told Cora that Harper needs to take it easy until she goes. I also told Cora to call nine-one-one immediately if the pains comes back.”
Macey shook her head but didn’t say anything, and Dr. Hack looked over the file again. “I think she may’ve had undiagnosed strep at some point and ended up with rheumatic fever—without her medical records we’ll never know, but that seems the most likely cause.”
Macey nodded, her heart suddenly aching for the little girl. “I wish there was more I could do to help. Please let me know if you need me.”
Dr. Hack looked up from the file. “We always need you, Mace,” he teased, “but you can head home.” He smiled. “Have a good weekend.”
“You, too,” she said, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. She said good night to Melissa and went out into the cool autumn air. As she walked across the parking lot, she noticed Harper swinging Cora’s hand as they walked toward their car.
“Lord, please take care of that little girl,” she whispered. “If anyone needs you, she does.”
Fifteen minutes later, Macey pulled into her driveway and saw all the lights on. She frowned, trying to remember what Ben had said he was doing that night. He’d mentioned Henry, but she’d been so preoccupied that morning, she’d only half listened.
“Hey,” she said, coming into the kitchen. “I didn’t expect you home. What smells so good?”
Ben turned, his hair still wet from showering. “Supper—isn’t that what you always say?” He smiled, too, as she leaned up to kiss him.
“And you smell good, too.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.
“What are you making?” she asked, lifting the lid of the pan and releasing a cloud of steam.
“Sausage and peppers.”
“Do we have rolls?” she asked, reaching for his beer.
“We do,” he said, watching her take a sip.
“I thought you were doing something with Henry tonight.”
“I did—we went running, and he gave me that beer.”
“Oh, right! I couldn’t remember what you said.”
“You couldn’t remember . . . or you weren’t listening?” he teased gently.
“Probably both,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “You know how I am before I have my coffee.”
“I do,” he agreed.
She took another sip. “This is pretty good.” She studied the label and eyed him questioningly. “Intimidator?”
“It’s Bump n’ Run’s signature beer, named for Dale Earnhardt.”
Macey raised her eyebrows. “Bump and run?”
“Yeah, Henry’s brewery is in the heart of NASCAR country, so everything about it has a racing theme,” Ben said, taking a sip of the beer and pulling her toward him.
“Oh, by the way . . . the shelter called this morning . . . ,” Macey said as he kissed her neck. “And you’ll never guess what . . .”
“What?”
“Keeper’s all ours! We’ve been approved!”
“Great,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
“And we can pick him up tomorrow at ten . . .”
“Mmm,” he said again, kissing her eyelids.
“But I’m supposed to get my hair cut . . .”
“And I’m supposed to work . . .”
“Can you work a little later?”
Ben pulled back and searched her eyes. “See what I mean, Mace? He’s already causing conflicts—just picking him up is a problem. Not to mention, we aren’t ready to pick him up—we don’t have a collar, a leash, a crate. We don’t even have dog food!”
Macey frowned. “It’s not a conflict. I’ll cancel my appointment if you have to work. And we do have those things. Except a crate. But I don’t think he needs to be in a crate—he’s not a puppy, so I got him a bed, and it’s supposed to come tomorrow.”
Ben pulled away completely. “You mail-ordered a dog bed? From where?”
“Bean.”
“I should’ve known.”
“They make the best beds . . . and it was on sale.”
“Yeah? How much?”
“I used the gift card you gave me for my birthday.”
Ben sighed and took a long swig of his beer. “I think a crate would be better. What do we do if he gets into stuff?”
“He’s not gonna get into stuff,” Macey said, frowning. “Ben, you said you were on board with this.”
“I was on board with putting in an application, but I’m still not as sure as you that this is meant to be. Mace, a dog is going to tie us down. There will be no more picking up and going away whenever we want. We’ll always have to think of him and find someone to dog-sit. Not to mention, he’s going to be inside all day when we’re at work, which won’t be much fun for him, and you can’t guarantee he won’t get into stuff.”
“We never go away, so that’s not going to be a problem, and he’s definitely not spending all day in a crate. If you’re so worried, we’ll get a gate and he can stay in the kitchen.” Macey leaned her back against the counter. “I can’t believe you’re making such a big deal out of this. Lots of people have dogs! And if we had a baby, we’d be even more tied down. We’d figure things out.”
“We would take a baby with us if we went somewhere.”
“Not to work.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “What we’d figured out, Mace, is you’d be a stay-at-home mom.”
The words stay-at-home mom—and the fact that she may never be one—struck a sensitive chord. Macey’s eyes glistened.
“I told them we wanted him, and I’m not backing out,” she said with quiet conviction.
“Oh, Mace,” Ben said, reaching for her hand. “Please don’t cry. I’m just trying to be realistic.”
She pulled her hand away. “That’s the trouble, Ben,” she said. “You’re too realistic. Too cautious. You never want to take a chance on anything. You’re not spontaneous or compulsive. Everything always has to be all figured out. In advance.”
“That’s not true. I take chances—I took a chance on this house!”
She laughed. “Yeah, under duress.”
Ben worked hard to suppress a smile and shook his head. “Not true.”
“So true!”
“I took a chance on you.”
“Yeah, well”—Macey looked away—“maybe you shouldn’t have.”
“Yeah, I should’ve,” he said softly, reaching for her hand again and pulling her against him. “I’m sorry I’m such a stick in the mud sometimes.”
Macey rested her cheek on his chest and swallowed. “And I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass.”
Ben smiled and kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay.” Ben leaned back and searched her eyes. “If you weren’t such a pain in the ass, my life would be really boring. I’d probably still be single . . . and I’d most likely live in a small, finished, simple house with no mortgage, minimal bills, and a healthy retirement portfolio. Instead, I have a whopper of a mortgage, a maxed-out home-equity loan, a car loan, someone else’s student loans, a house that needs endless work, and a retirement account I can never afford to add to.” He paused, smiling. “But I also have someone beautiful and loving to spend my retirement with . . . even if it’s in a tent.”
“Hey now,” Macey said, mustering a smile. “It’s not that bad—my school loans are almost paid off, and we will never live in a tent.”
“We might.”
Macey rolled her eyes.
“Do that again.”
“What?”
“Roll your eyes.”
She shook her head. “How long before supper?”
“I think it should simmer a bit. Want a drink?”
“Sure,” she said.
“Beer? Wine?”
“I’d take one of Henry’s Intimidators if you’re sharing? Pairs best with this menu.”
Ben opened a black bottle for her and pulled her closer, slowly unbuttoning the top of her shirt.
“So, what do you think about Keeper?” Macey pressed, trying to keep him on topic.
“I’m not thinking about Keeper,” he murmured, kissing the curve of her neck.
Macey leaned into him. “If you said yes, I wouldn’t be thinking about him, either,” she teased, unbuttoning his shirt and tracing her fingertips along the smooth skin of his chest.
“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to bribe me.”
“I would never do that,” she whispered innocently as she pressed against him.
Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he leaned back and searched her eyes. “I know you have your heart set on getting him, Mace, so how can I say no?”
“I don’t want you to just not say no . . . I want you to want him, too.”
“Do you want me to be honest?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m not convinced that getting a dog with three legs is the best idea, but time will tell, won’t it?”
Macey pulled away and pressed her lips together in a sad smile. “I guess.” She put her beer on the counter and looked out the window. “I’ve had a long day and I’m going to get my pj’s on.”
Ben watched her go and took another long sip of his beer. “So much for what I had in mind,” he muttered, lifting the lid and giving the sausage and peppers a stir.