Remember Tuesday Morning (28 page)

He should’ve left him home tonight. “Bo,” he held the dog’s head, cradled it against his chest. “I’m sorry, boy … I’m so sorry.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. He and Bo had years of calls ahead of them, and when Bo grew too old to be the aggressive, intelligent K9 deputy, he was supposed to retire into Alex’s care. Relaxed and doing nothing more demanding than jogging or running hills. They should’ve had so many years ahead of them.

Alex buried his face against Bo’s fur and wept. Of course he couldn’t have left his dog at home, because Bo wanted to take the call. He lived for the chance to protect Alex, and if he hadn’t jumped at the gunman, if he hadn’t taken the bullet, the guy would’ve shot Alex point-blank in the head. Alex never would’ve seen it coming.

He pictured Bo’s eyes, the way he had looked on the ride down the mountain to the ambulance, the loyal eyes and trusting heart, the look of apology deep within his expression — as if he had known this was good-bye. He hugged his dog once more and then straightened, his eyes too blurred with tears to see clearly.

“Bo … you can’t be gone.” The words came out with his tears. “I can’t let you go, boy.” He hated that Bo wasn’t moving, that he wasn’t lifting his head. Until now there had never been a time when he would talk to Bo and Bo wouldn’t look at him. “God … please get me through this, please.” He stroked his dog’s side one last time. “I hope heaven has dogs, because … because I just want one more chance to run with you, Bo. One more chance.”

He couldn’t stay. There was no getting Bo back, no turning the hands of the clock the other direction so he could’ve been standing on the front yard of that house and noticed the suspect himself, so things might’ve turned out differently. It was too late for any of that. Bo was gone. His partner — his friend — was dead.

One more time he patted Bo’s head, the soft place beneath his ears. For all their years together, Bo had desired Alex’s praise more than food or water or air. This one last time, Alex took the moment to give his dog what he would’ve wanted most. He leaned close to Bo’s head and whispered, “No better friend ever, Bo … you saved my life. You did good.” He patted his side. “You were a good dog, Bo … the best. You did everything right.”

He couldn’t bear to step away, because when he did he would have to believe it was over, and he wouldn’t have this chance again. Suddenly, he was mad at himself because he hadn’t taken enough pictures. Hardly any over the years, so there would be nothing much to remember Bo by.

As soon as the thought hit his heart, he knew there wasn’t an ounce of truth in it. He didn’t need photographs. He would remember Bo every time he climbed into his Dodge or whenever he sped off down the streets of Los Angeles after the next crook. He would feel him sitting in the seat behind him and remember the look in his eyes as surely as he knew his own reflection. He stepped back, his fingers still spread deep into Bo’s furry side. He needed to say it, because his dog deserved that much.

“Good-bye, Bo … You were a good friend.”

Then, with the weight of the world full against his shoulders, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Out in the hallway, he placed his forearm against the wall and buried his face in the crook of his elbow. The tears came harder, because already he felt lonely and cold and defeated. Bo was dead. How could that be? Couldn’t God have spared his dog, when Bo was so full of good?

For a few seconds, the old pain and anger crept back in around the edges of his soul, but then just as quickly he could hear his father’s words as they’d been spoken to Jake Bryan.
So far, my family has had very little trouble. Life is good, love is sweet, and time seems like it’ll last forever … We all know that isn’t true. Especially working for the FDNY.

Or working as a K9 officer for the sheriff’s department.

He dragged his face against his arm and turned so his back was against the wall. Once more he reminded himself of what Clay had said, that God never intended for man to rid the world of evil, but through God’s strength, that man might look at the evil within himself. Bo was gone; there was nothing he could do about the fact. But there was one way he could offset the evil that had taken place over the last five hours.

He could offset it with love.

For a long minute, he examined himself, the heart and soul that had grown cold and hard within him, and he studied the person he had allowed himself to become. His love for Holly Brooks had never wavered. He knew that now. She had been his best friend, the girl who took his breath away every time he saw her. The way he’d treated her these past seven years was, itself, a form of evil.

He opened his eyes and straightened, refusing to give in to the exhaustion and grief that were spinning his head in circles and making his breathing fast and unsteady. He walked down the hall, and he could almost feel Bo there beside him, looking up at him as if to say, “This is the right thing … let’s do this.”

She was still on the sofa, where she’d been sitting before, but her head was no longer in her hands. She looked at him, and in her eyes he saw fear, like maybe he would walk past without talking to her, the way he’d done so many ridiculous times that first year after the terrorist attacks. The terrorists who had pulled off 9/11 hadn’t only killed his father and the other thousands of people. They’d killed him too.

But God had brought his heart and soul back to life again.

He never stopped, never broke his slow and steady stride as he made his way to her. At first she didn’t want to look at him, because the grief was too raw for both of them. But then she must’ve seen something different in his face, because when he was halfway to her she met his eyes and didn’t break contact again. When he reached her, he stopped and held out his arms.

He had so much to say, seven years’ worth of words and apologies and questions about how she’d been and why she was still here. He didn’t know if she was involved with someone, but it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that he loved her the way she deserved to be loved. Not the romantic love that might’ve come if he’d done things differently, but the love of days gone by, a love that cared for her still — would care for her forever.

But no matter how much he wanted to talk, he couldn’t say a word. His sorrow and grief stuck in his throat and stopped him from speaking. So he did the only thing he could. He took her in his arms, slowly, with the greatest care, and he wrapped his arms around her. Alone in the waiting room, buried beneath his sorrow and hers, they stayed that way, clinging to each other until they were both crying again, silently weeping for all they’d lost in the wake of his unrelenting quest to right his father’s death.

Please, God … I can’t talk … please let her know what I’m feeling.

Her hands pressed into his back and his into hers, and still they stayed in each other’s arms, neither of them willing for the moment to end. And it wouldn’t end, either. Everything bitter and angry and full of hurt dissolved in wave after wave of love washing over him and leaving him intoxicated by her presence. His Holly, here … impossibly here, where she would stay. Because whatever was happening in her personal life, now that he’d found her, now that he’d found himself, Alex wasn’t letting her go. If she was in love with someone else, fine. Alex would be her friend, but he wasn’t walking away again.

Not now and not ever.

T
HIRTY

H
olly wore dark sunglasses and sat at the end of a middle row in the sea of folding chairs that were lined across the grassy field at the sheriff’s headquarters. Jamie Michaels was to her right, and Jamie’s kids and in-laws filled out the row. Alex was in front with the other K9 officers. Tissue packets had been handed out as the hundreds of people arrived, and Holly was grateful. It was Alex’s friend Clay’s turn at the microphone. His arm was in a sling because of the bullet he’d taken to the shoulder, but he was okay. The whole city knew the story by now.

Three days had passed since that awful night, and the fires set by the arsonists were almost completely contained. Oak Canyon Estates was a complete loss, but everyone agreed the damage could’ve been much worse. The newspapers and local television stations had all remarked that only a miracle could’ve caused the shift in winds that saved every house at the bottom of the hill below where the fires had been set. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say we saw the hand of God at work tonight,” one reporter stated. Alex didn’t have to wonder. Of course the miracle of the wind shift was the hand of God. Alex had witnessed it firsthand.

No more winds were expected, so the worst of the firestorm was behind them. At least for this season. As Clay made his way up, Holly stared at the picture of Alex and Bo, the one that had run in the newspaper. Someone had enlarged it and framed it on an easel near the platform. Already they’d heard from a dozen K9 and SWAT deputies about Bo’s bravery and innate ability to get the crooks. But Jamie had told her before the service that none of them knew Alex and Bo the way Clay did.

Clay took his spot and looked out at the crowd. “This is hard.” His voice rang with transparent grief. “Bo was a good dog.” He looked down for a few seconds, and when he had composed himself, he continued. “Most of you know … a very unique friendship exists between a K9 officer and his service dog. In the case of Bo and Alex, that dog knew every emotion, every nuance and move his partner made. Everyone who saw them together understood that even among police dogs, Bo was a rare treasure. A dog whose loyalty and commitment to getting the bad guys knew no limits.” Clay spoke clearly, and his voice carried across the field. “The same way it was for Alex.” He launched into a story, something funny about Bo being lost during a chase, and Alex finding him on the hood of the squad car, waiting and watching for his partner. The story was long, and it gave Holly a chance to fade out for a few minutes. She let her eyes find the back of Alex’s head, his dark blond hair and strong shoulders. He had filled out since high school, and he was more handsome than before. More chiseled. But in the days since their hug, he had barely spoken to her.

She’d been busy, of course. There had been the trip back to the site of the fire and the surprise arrival of a dozen contractors with earthmoving equipment. Each of them had taken part in one of Dave Jacobs’ charity home-building projects, and now that Dave was in need, they all showed up to help — not expecting anything in return. The story offered beauty amidst the ashes and was picked up by the
Los Angeles Times
.

The next day Holly had a lengthy meeting with Dave and Ron Jacobs, so that she could share every detail about what had happened that fateful night. A debriefing, Ron called it. At the end, Dave came to her and hugged her the way her father used to hug her. “You were very brave, Holly.” He pulled back, his eyes shining. “I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.”

Holly thanked him, and the moment eased the feeling of tension between her and Ron. They had not shared a private moment since the conversation they’d had in the midst of the fire, and it seemed clear to both of them that their dating days were over. Ron was a good man. He and his father would rebound from this and find something new and better to be a part of — whether they rebuilt at Oak Canyon or not.

At the end of the meeting, Holly turned in her resignation. She needed something new, maybe a job with a magazine or a newspaper. Selling houses would never be the same after the horrifying terror of that night, and besides, maybe it was time for her and her mom to sell their condos and move somewhere new. San Diego, or back to New York City, maybe.

Especially now that it looked like she’d lost Alex again.

Holly blinked and focused on him once more. If it weren’t for Bo, Alex would be dead now. Clay would be at the podium talking about him and not his dog. Holly couldn’t stand the thought. She remembered what it felt like to be in his arms the other night and how she had known with everything in her that she still loved Alex Brady.

She would love him until the day she died. Which was all the more reason why she couldn’t stay around. The possibility of running into him was too great. If she was ever going to have a chance to move on, then first she needed to move away from Los Angeles as soon as possible. Her heart would follow in time.

Alex turned his head just enough that she could see the rugged muscles along the side of his face. He hadn’t cried during the ceremony, and that was another sign that maybe the Alex she wanted him to be was gone once again, lost even farther than before because of this new injustice in his life.

Be with him, God … life’s too short to spend it angry and driven.
She longed for him, ached for him to look at her like he’d looked at her that night in the veterinary hospital, but she hadn’t seen him again until an hour ago. In that moment, there wasn’t even a flicker of the depth and connection she’d felt in the vet’s waiting room.
Help him, God … let him find the strength to let his feelings show again.

This was new, this ability to pray as easily as she’d prayed back in high school. It was something good that had come from the terrible firestorm, and Holly was grateful. Whatever the future held, she couldn’t imagine taking it on without God’s wisdom and protection, His guidance and promise of eternity. If she couldn’t have Alex, her faith would sustain her. It was something her mother had prayed about for years, and it would bring the two of them closer, as well.

Clay was finishing up, and after he sat back down, the sergeant of the K9 division said a few more words and then closed the ceremony with a prayer, asking God for continued protection and guidance for Alex and all the deputies in the sheriff’s department, and thanking the Lord for the courage of police dogs like Bo.

A quartet of bagpipe players started a haunting rendition of “Amazing Grace” as the procession of officers filed from the seats and back into the meeting room inside headquarters. A reception had been prepared by one of the churches in town, so that the K9 and SWAT guys could talk about the loss and share memories of Bo and his heroic feats. His and Alex’s.

“You staying here?” Jamie put her hand over Holly’s as she stood with the others in their row.

“For awhile.” She looked at Alex and gave a light shrug with one shoulder. “I’m not sure if he wants to talk, but I want to be close … just in case.”

Jamie hesitated, her expression kind and sincere. “Clay and I’ll be praying for you.”

“Thank you.” Holly smiled. “I hope we can see each other again.”

“Me too.” Jamie took hold of her kids’ hands, and together with her family they walked across the grass toward the reception.

While the bagpipers finished up, a few of the deputies stayed and gathered around Alex, talking to him, patting him on the back, hugging him. Holly watched as Jamie came back outside and handed Alex a package. The two talked for a minute, and then Jamie gave him a quick hug and returned to the building with the others.

Eventually, Alex and Holly were the only two left outside. Alex didn’t seem to notice she was there. He walked slowly toward the photo and lifted it off the easel. He stayed that way for a long time, looking at the picture.

Suddenly, Holly felt awkward and out of place. She should probably leave now, before he turned around and saw her there by herself. That way he wouldn’t feel like he had to come over and talk to her. Because if he’d meant everything she’d felt from him that night in the vet’s waiting room, he would’ve found a way to talk to her by now, maybe not by phone — since he didn’t have her number — but here at the service, at least. She started to stand. This was no place for her, here alone with Alex. She’d been rejected by him too many times to let it happen again.

She turned and started to walk silently back toward the parking lot, but she only got a few feet before she heard him call out to her.

“Holly … wait!”

At the sound of his voice, she turned around. Fifty yards of grass and chairs separated them, but even this far away she thought she could hear a softness in his tone. She stared at him, waiting.

When he seemed sure she wasn’t leaving, he set the package from Jamie on a chair and returned the photo back to its place. Then he let his hands fall to his sides, and slowly he walked up the center aisle toward her. The closer he came, the better she could see his eyes, and for a heartbeat she thought they were back to the way they’d been the other night. But in the glare of afternoon sun and through the tint of her glasses, she couldn’t let herself believe that, not when her heart was dying inside her.

But with each step, he never once broke eye contact, and when he was only a few feet from her she didn’t have to wonder anymore. The man walking up to her wasn’t the angry closed-off sheriff’s deputy. He wasn’t the broken teenager bent on revenging his father’s death. He was just Alex. The Alex she wasn’t sure she’d ever see again.