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BOOK: Barbara Samuel
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“This is good,” she said. “Let’s just make a couple of turns around the pond.”

He nodded. “Have you worked with other dogs with PTSD?”

“A few. It’s a military town.”

“Is Thor pretty bad?”

She raised those big direct eyes and met his gaze. Blue, like the lake, like the mountains rising behind her. “I think you know the answer to that question.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Can you help him?”

When she smiled, it was the first time he’d seen Jessie,
his
Jessie, since they’d arrived. It smashed into his solar plexus like a metal beam and nearly buckled his knees.

“You know the answer to that question, too,” she said, that impish dimple arriving and disappearing.

Maybe this had been a big mistake, he thought. But he really thought he might be over her, five years later. Five hard years. Five satisfying years. She had never understood why he wanted to serve. She didn’t believe in war, said it was a stupid way to solve problems, flinging men at each other until they died. It was the only thing they’d ever fought about—that all he’d ever wanted, ever expected to do, was be a soldier. His pride in making the SEAL team had been the most powerful emotion of his life.

Jessie had given him an ultimatum—SEALS or her. He had not so much chosen as been called, which he’d never been able to make her understand. She gave him back the ring he had saved to buy, a diamond still carefully tucked into the back of a drawer.

“So, what does an ex-SEAL do for work?” she asked.

“I bought a ranch,” he said gruffly. “Appaloosas.”

“You’ll be good at that.”

“I was a good SEAL, too.”

She looked up sharply. “I’m sure you were. I never doubted that.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s not go over old ground, okay?” Jessie said. “I—I made mistakes. So did you. Let’s leave it at that.”

Gruffly he said, “Fair enough.”

Thor suddenly moved forward, snuffling hard into a clump of long grass. He lifted his head, sneezed, wagged his tail ever so faintly. Stuck his nose into the grass again, and scrapped the earth with his paws.

Jessie put her hand on Marcus’s arm. “Let’s let him be a dog.”

Her fingertips touched his skin, right over the scars Thor had left. Electricity moved through his skin, through his belly. Idiotic, and yet, there it was. As if she felt it too, she looked up, and for a long moment, it honestly seemed as if she might not mind if he bent down and kissed her.

Abruptly, she pulled her hand away.

Marcus focused on Thor, who sniffed along the grass, followed the scent to the edge of the pond, and then scraped his paws on the earth, flinging dirt far and wide, his chest puffed out. “That’s as relaxed as I’ve seen him,” Marcus said, and unaccountably, his throat was tight. What? Would he freaking cry now? For God’s sake.

Thor wandered over and Marcus gave him a treat. “Good job.”

Jessie stuck her hands in her back pockets. The move pulled her shirt tight over her breasts and he suddenly, shockingly, remembered how plump and pretty they were.

No, not going there. He rubbed his eyes. “Are we done for today?”

“Yes. You can take him back to the truck and I’ll write down my address. Can you come tomorrow?”

*

Jessie told herself that she was not dressing up for Marcus, just that she needed to look her best in order to be able to work with him. Mascara gave a woman confidence—everyone knew that.

She had already taken her two dogs, Alex and Wendell, to the training studio for the morning. Jessie’s assistant, Michelle, would look after the border collies, using them as helpers and examples, and Thor could come into the environment that smelled of other dogs, but not have to deal with them. She also walked the perimeter of the backyard, looking for problems, trouble, anything that might spook the nervous canine. Nothing. A ponderosa pine in one corner, shrubs and a wide border planted with flowers along the fences. There were no dogs in the other yards to bark and make Thor feel the need to defend his area.

Overnight, she’d done a lot of reading, to increase her confidence in dealing with PTSD specific to combat dogs. Since Thor had so many issues, they would have to handle them one at a time. The first thing was to restore his sense of safety and trust. Thor had to learn to trust Marcus.

And Marcus had to learn to believe in himself.

Even with all the preparation, when the doorbell rang, she nearly jumped right out of her skin. Her heart skittered into overdrive, banging so hard in her rib cage that she had to put a hand to her side. She flew to the door, then halted when she spied him through the window, his face in profile as he looked toward the street. It was still his face. Marcus’s face. The face she had spied the first time at lunch in the seventh grade; the face that she had cheered for through dozens of seasons of sports—football and track and soccer; the face she had hardened her heart toward when he insisted on joining the Navy after college graduation.

Signing up to get yourself killed
, she cried.

Signing up to help people who don’t have anyone else
, he countered.

Signing up to be an absent husband!

Signing up to serve the country I love
!

Now here he stood, older and weary, still serving the same way he always had. The least she could do was to help him heal the broken heart of a dog who needed a second chance. Putting on a professional demeanor, she opened the door. And laughed.

Staff Sergeant Thor stood perfectly still on the square concrete porch, gazing up at her like a calendar dog, a single rose encased in a rolled up newspaper in his mouth.

“Give it to her, Thor,” Marcus said.

Thor stood, walked over to Jessie, and put the flower against her hand. When she took it, Thor made a very pretty bow.

Delighted, Jessie laughed, then squatted to dog-eye level and said, “You are one amazing creature, aren’t you?”

Thor gave Marcus a sidelong look, practically a wink, and Marcus laughed. The sound boomed out of him, that deep rich enjoyment that infected everybody around him, and Jessie felt it course through her entire body—elbows, palms, lips.

Oh, to just kiss him one more time!

She looked up at him at the same moment he looked down. She saw him look at her mouth, and his hand lifted, as if to touch her arm.

Thor nudged her leg, and Jessie was shaken from her swoon. “Sorry, sweetheart! You are the greatest dog in the world. So smart! So wise!” He lifted his chin and she scratched his chest. He made a low groan, lifted a paw to her arm, and shot a glance toward Marcus.

Jessie said, “He is really, really smart.”

“He is that.”

Remembering what they were here to do, she stepped back and opened the door. “Do you want to come in, baby?”

He leaned to see around her legs, then settled back into a sit.

“Not sure?” She shifted the rose to her other hand and reached into the treat bag attached to her belt. “How about this?” She gave it to him and he accepted it politely.

She opened the door wider, and had Marcus hold it open. She walked backward into the house, offering a treat, talking quietly.

No go.

“Does he go inside at your house?”

Marcus nodded. “I had to blindfold him the first time.”

“Was the attack in a building?”

His face went blank. “Yeah.”

Jessie put her hands on her hips. “What’s your goal, Marcus? What do you want to accomplish with him?”

He looked at Thor, sitting politely on the step. “I want him to feel okay again, like the world isn’t dangerous at every turn.”

“He’s going to have to trust you. What might be standing in the way?”

Marcus turned down the corners of his mouth. He was silent for a long moment, and Jessie watched as he rubbed a palm over the deep, ropy pink scars on his forearm. Finally, he looked up at her. “Me, I guess.”

She nodded. “Trade places with me.”

He offered her the leash, and stepped into her living room.

“Now back up a few steps and call him. Offer a treat.”

Thor moved ever so slightly, a foot at a time. After awhile, he followed Marcus all the way into the kitchen, and at that point, Jessie gave the dog a rest. “Good dog, Thor,” she said quietly, and offered a bowl of water. To Marcus she said, “You did a great job. He is going to transfer his loyalty to you. It’s just going to take some time.”

He nodded, looking gravely at Thor, who now snuffled the edge of the area rug, and cautiously looked around. “Sean taught him that trick, with the rose. He loved that man so much, it was—” he paused. Cleared his throat.

Jessie filled a glass with water and gave it to him.

“Thanks,” he said roughly, and drank deeply.

Eyeing the scars on his arms, she reached out and absently touched them. He shied away as if he’d been burned. Embarrassed, Jessie said, “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what made me do that!”

He took her hand. “Shhh. It’s okay. Complete strangers do it, too. Damnedest thing.”

Every molecule of her body seemed to suddenly overheat, as if his touch were some kind of chemistry experiment, and Jessie trembled very slightly, looking up at him. She was struck dumb, her brain awash in the same cloud of heat that boiled her vocabulary right out of her head. She could only feel, only see: his beautiful laser blue eyes, peering right through her, into her heart, her foolish, foolish heart; his mouth, sensual and severe at once; his hands, sandwiching her own.

The moment seemed to stretch, exaggerating everything. The steadiness of his regard, the shape of his shoulders under the simple t-shirt he wore. “I missed you so much it was like somebody burned a hole in the middle of my gut,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t fair, what you did.”

“Marcus, I—”

Abruptly, he pulled his hands free and walked away. Thor scrambled behind him, hurrying to catch up as Marcus headed outside into the backyard.

Standing alone and bewildered by her kitchen counter, Jessie thought,
well, at least we’re getting somewhere with the dog.

*

Marcus paced the perimeter of the back yard, trying to calm his raging emotions. A thousand things welled up—fury and hope and anger and disappointment.

And love.

Damn it.

It took a moment, but he saw Thor out of the corner of his eye, pacing behind him, his hips low, ears high. On alert. Protecting him, looking out for danger.

“Sergeant Thor, at ease,” he called out.

Thor paused, midstep, head cocked, ears at the ready. One paw was lifted. He looked exactly like Rin Tin Tin.

“All clear, Thor,” he said. Firmly, clearly.

The dog sat, his body at ease. After a second, his long pink tongue fell out of his mouth. “Good dog,” Marcus said, and maneuvered himself into position to give Thor a good knuckle scrub, down his back and haunches, as Sean used to do. It was awkward for Marcus to do a puppy bow, but he came as close as he could, slapping his hand down on the ground. Thor leapt up, smiling, and bowed, then danced sideways.

Marcus chased him, then let himself be chased, playing that he was terrified. Thor leapt and lightly bumped hips with Marcus, then dashed away. Neither man nor dog were the graceful creatures they once had been, but they’d been through it together.

They knew.

At last, Marcus fell on the grass, breathing hard, and closed his eyes. Thor came over and fell against him, his back against Marcus’s side. Idly, Marcus flung an arm around the front of the dog, and after a moment, he felt the slippery dog tongue gently washing his forearm. Caressing the scars.

Marcus turned his head. Thor paused, his whiskey brown eyes earnest, and met his gaze, steadily. He lifted one wheat colored paw and put it on Marcus’s chest, the pad directly over the man’s heart.

“I love you, too,” Marcus said. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

Jessie quietly, easily sat beside them. “What happened to your arm, Marcus?”

“Both Sean and Thor were shot by the snipers. Sean was dead instantly.” He closed his eyes, telling the story in a steady monotone, trying to keep it at a distance, maybe. “Thor covered Sean’s body with his own, and wouldn’t let anybody near. He was bleeding badly, and the mission was falling to pieces, and I had to get him out of there, but every time I got close, he snapped at me. No one could get anywhere close to him.” He swallowed, his nostrils filled with the acrid smell of smoke and dust, the coppery scent of blood. And there was Thor, about to die for love if Marcus didn’t save him. “So I just grabbed him and hauled him away, and he bit the hell out of me, trying to get back to Sean until I could get him muzzled and subdued.”

He sensed her hand hovering over the scars and opened his eyes. Looked at her. “It’s all right,” he said. “You can touch them.”

Her fingers brushed over the marks, lightly, just as Thor had done moments before. Tears flowed down her face. “I was so unfair to you, Marcus,” she said.

“Yes, you were.”

“I’m so sorry.” With misery, she looked down at him. “I never stopped missing you. Seeing you like this feels like the world is suddenly alive again. Like it was black and white and now it’s color.”

He lifted a hand to her cheek, feeling the tears beneath her hair. Fiercely she pressed his hand closer, turning her face into his palm. She kissed the center.

“Come here,” he said, and she flowed over him, into the hollow on the other side of his body, so that he was sandwiched by dog and woman. Sunlight poured down over them, and the air smelled of freshly mown grass, and maybe things could work out. “If my leg heals well enough, I’ll go back into the military,” he said.

“I asked something of you that I never should have,” Jessie said, and lifted up on one elbow. She touched his face. “You are honorable and driven to serve. Asking you to give that up was wrong, and I’m sorry. Do you think you might give me another chance? Give us another chance?”

Thor’s paw still rested across his chest, reminding him of second chances, of the possibilities that might still be available if you could choose to live in this moment, not the past or the future. They had a long, long road back—Thor, and Marcus, and Jessie and Marcus, too, but it was a road worth walking.

BOOK: Barbara Samuel
5.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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