Courting Chloe (Hudson Valley Heroes Book 1) (19 page)

They followed her down a linoleum lined hallway decorated with oversized, finger painted portraits, obviously done by young children. Family portraits, by the look of them. Surrounding them on both sides of the hallway were happy-faced moms and dads, aunts and uncles, gray-haired grandparents, babies, siblings, dogs and cats—along with a disturbingly ferocious (and highly implausible) alligator. They stopped before a set of double doors, pressed their noses against the glass panes and peered inside.

Preston was sitting in a rocking chair, a brightly colored book in his lap, Prince resting on the floor beside him. As they watched, a young boy and a young girl brought their own books over and sat near him. Preston smiled, pointed to his book and made a comment, only to be gently shushed by Mrs. Donovan. Apparently it was
quiet
reading time. Preston looked at his friends, shrugged, and went back to his book, contentedly petting Prince as he read.

Chloe smiled at the episode—Preston might still be learning the rules, but at least he was making friends. That was what counted.

Ian, however, stepped back with a frown. “That’s not what he was wearing when I dropped him off.”

Mindful not to disturb the class, Jackie motioned them away from the window. “No, it’s not. Preston had a seizure today, but it happened in my office, so no worries. After resting a bit, he changed into a fresh set of clothing and went back to class.”

Ian shot Chloe a worried glance. “He just happened to be in your office? I don’t understand. Was he sick?”

“Not at all. As you can see, Preston’s fine. From what I saw, he had a terrific day. There’s just a little confusion that I wanted to clear up. Would you mind coming back to my office for a moment?”

“Of course,” he replied. To anyone else, his tone probably sounded cool and composed. But Chloe didn’t miss the strain in his voice. She reached for his hand and gave it what she hoped would be interpreted as a reassuring squeeze.

They reached Jackie’s office. The nurse shut the door for privacy, offered them both a chair, then took a seat on the opposite side of the desk. She reached for a file and opened it, frowning as she skimmed the contents. “Mr. Dowling—”

“Ian.”

“Ian.” She smiled briefly. “In our conversation this morning, you informed me that Prince would Alert by barking should Preston have a seizure. Then we were to react by taking him to my office and dispensing his medicine.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Ian confirmed.

“Well, that didn’t happen today.”

“He didn’t Alert?” Chloe gasped, appalled. Prince had been so reliable, so steady. Granted, this was a new environment and there were distractions here, but—

“Not in the way you indicated,” Jackie replied. “That was the source of my confusion.”

“He’s been trained to Alert,” Chloe insisted, sending Ian a look of horrified apology.
Oh, God.
She’d urged him to take this step. She’d been so confident Prince was ready.

“Right,” Jackie said. “But I thought you meant Prince had been trained to Alert during a seizure event, not before.”

“He’s been extensively—” Chloe’s mouth snapped shut. Her eyes grew wide and her heart stopped beating. Her gaze swung from Ian, who looked utterly frozen, back to Jackie. “Jackie, did you just say Prince Alerted you to the seizure
before
it happened?”

“Yes. Exactly. Mrs. Donovan called me into the art room to let me know Prince had Alerted. Preston seemed perfectly fine, but I brought him to my office to lay down, just in case. That’s when the seizure occurred.”

Chills ran through Chloe’s body. This was beyond good news. This was the sun and the moon and the stars, all wrapped up in one brilliant, glittering gift. Alerting
before
a seizure? That behavior couldn’t be trained, not even by the best trainer in the world. A dog either sensed a change in the hormonal balance of his person’s body, or he didn’t.

Prince got it.

“He’s never done that before,” she heard Ian choke out. “The dog, I mean.”

“Oh,” Jackie said, brightening. “Well then, you should know that there are medications Preston can take that may stop his seizures altogether, as long as they can be given before the event.”

Yes. They knew that. But Preston’s seizure pattern was totally erratic. It had simply been impossible to predict when a seizure would occur.

Until now.

The human brain is an incredibly delicate organ—a child’s brain particularly so. Years of suffering the effects of tonic-clonic seizures often led to permanent damage. Loss of motor skills, diminished speaking ability, reduced brain function. That was the grim future Preston had been facing. But Alerting
before
a seizure… Stopping the seizures altogether… That wasn’t just dodging bullets. That wasn’t just repairing the damage a bullet had done. That was stopping bullets from ever leaving the chamber of the gun.

Chloe, flooded by relief so exquisite it was almost pain, drew in a shuddering breath and looked at Ian. He reached for her and pulled her into his lap, wrapping her in a hug so intense she could barely breathe. Chloe didn’t mind. She just wanted him to hold her. She’d breathe later.

              Dimly she was aware of Jackie slipping out of her office to give them some privacy. She stayed in Ian’s lap, wrapped in his arms, until the shrill ringing of the bell announced the school day was over. They managed to pull themselves together. With an embarrassed laugh, Chloe wiped away her tears and followed Ian back to the main entrance.

Excited children raced around them, streaming past like a raging current sweeping around a rock. In the middle of the happy throng, Preston spied his uncle. His face lit up. He raced toward him and threw his arms around him. Ian hugged him back, his expression fierce.

“So how was your day, buddy?”

“Really, really, really good! How was yours?”

Glancing over his nephew’s head, Ian met her eyes and smiled. “Even better than that.”

              Chloe bit her lower lip and clenched her fists. That was it. No more tears. She would not dissolve into a weeping puddle in the middle of the school. She had her job to think of. Her self-respect.

              Ian released Preston and hunkered down next to Prince. The image instantly seared itself onto her heart. A large, powerful man who’d almost given up hope, kneeling next to an abandoned mutt who’d been given up on.

Prince, patiently waiting in a Sit position, watched Ian for his next cue.

“Good dog, Prince,” she heard Ian utter, his voice raw with emotion as he gave Prince a gentle stroking. “Good dog. Thanks for looking after my boy.”

Prince thumped his tail and gave Ian a sloppy kiss.

Okay, maybe just a few more tears. But only happy ones.

Epilogue

              A barn wedding. Chloe and Ian found a local farm that rented out their barn for special events, and Chloe had fallen in love with the facility from the moment she stepped on the grounds. Not only was it rustic and romantic, the owner was more than accommodating when it came to Chloe’s request that dogs be allowed inside.

“It’s a barn,” he’d chuckled. “Dogs are fine by me. So are horses, pigs, and cows. Hell, it’s your wedding. Fill it up with zebras and giraffes if that makes you happy.”

And so they had. Well, not zebras and giraffes. But the canine guests almost outnumbered the two-legged ones. From his position in the front of the room, standing just left of the rustic altar, Ian surveyed the room. The chairs were full despite the unexpected March snowstorm that had swept in at the last minute, threatening to close the roads and airports.

As it turned out, a weather crisis had been avoided. The brunt of the storm had skirted past the Hudson Valley, depositing just enough snow to change the landscape to one of pristine winter beauty. A perfect complement to Chloe’s crystal and silver wedding theme—almost as though she’d ordered the snow specifically for the event. They’d even booked a sleigh to carry them away from the reception and to the Adirondack style lodge where they’d be spending their honeymoon, an event Ian was eagerly anticipating—the honeymoon, that is, not the sleigh ride.

“I’ll cover you if you want to make a run for it,” Matt stage whispered from beside him.

Ian’s lips quirked. “I don’t think that’s precisely the role of best man.”

“I’ve never done this before.” Matt replied with a shrug. “I’m improvising.” He reached down and petted Beastie. “So I guess this means you’re done playing the field, huh? You’re permanently benched.”

“Guess so. I’m leaving the field to you. Play at will.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Matt smirked and tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Turns out, ladies love the chair. It’s a great conversation starter.”

Ian gave a shocked laugh. “What are you, anyway, one percent bone and muscle, ninety-nine percent raging hormones?”

“Pretty much. What can I say? I’m eighteen.” He surveyed Ian. “You look okay in a tux, by the way. Not as good as me or Beastie, but not bad, either.”

Yeah, that. He hadn’t even known they made tuxes for dogs. Leave it to Matt to find one. He bent lower to deliver a rebuttal when the music cued, letting guests know the ceremony was about to begin. Feeling strong and steady, Ian straightened and stepped into place beside the minister. He felt more ready for this, more committed to this, than anything he’d undertaken in his life. He belonged to Chloe, she belonged to him.

His gaze locked on the softly carpeted bridal aisle. The procession began with a pretty little flower girl, one of Preston’s good friends from school, who scattered white rose petals. She was followed by Preston and Prince, Preston proudly carrying the cushion that held the rings. The bridesmaids made there way down the aisle and moved into place.

An air of hushed expectation fell over the room.

The music stopped. The guests rose. The wedding march began.

Chloe appeared, looking positively stunning in a form-fitting gown of white silk threaded with tiny iridescent beads. It shimmered around her as she moved, looking like something out of a dream. She wore no veil. Her warm brown eyes shone with joy, her hair was twisted into an elegant knot. In her hands she carried a simple bouquet of tiny purple violets.

Her father, a retired surgeon named Hank, did the honors of walking her down the aisle. But Ian only had eyes for Chloe. He stepped forward, took her arm, and guided her to her place beside him at the altar.

All right, Barb. This is it. I hope you’re watching.

Oddly enough, he sensed she was.

Author’s Note

Thanking you for reading
Courting Chloe
, my first book in the Hudson Valley Heroes series. After adopting a rescue dog who was in serious need of some behavioral training and pooch therapy, I stumbled into a network of people who devote their lives to working with dogs. Some of these people were trainers, others were shelter volunteers. But the ones who really took my breath away were the enormously gifted individuals who train canine assistants to serve people with disabilities.

They are the unsung heroes to whom this book is dedicated. If you have an interest in learning more about these organizations, or perhaps making a financial contribution to help them continue the amazing work they do, most can be found on the web. Chances are there’s a wonderful canine training facility near you!

              With warmest regards,

             
Victoria Lynne