Sophie's Path (11 page)

“I have a big favor,” Jeremy said, unzipping the bag.

An ink-black furry head popped out of the opening. Two small black eyes peered at Sophie and blinked.

She snapped her head back in surprise. “That's a...puppy!”

“A Yorkie-Poo, actually. Frenchie is a full-grown dog. Two years old and six pounds of love.” Finally, Jeremy smiled. He pulled the tiny, curly-haired dog from his backpack. Frenchie immediately jumped onto Sophie's lap and scrambled up to her face to lick her cheek.

“I knew it!” Jeremy exclaimed. “She does like you. A lot. She's got a natural instinct for people.”

Sophie held Frenchie with both hands but didn't try to make her stop licking. Sophie giggled at her tickling tongue. “She doesn't do this with everybody?”

“Not at all. I haven't seen her do that with anyone in Indian Lake. Not even Eleanor,” he said, zipping his bag up again.

Sophie cuddled Frenchie to her chest. “She's adorable. Where'd you get her?”

“In the town where I lived before I came here, I scooped poop for a kennel. I liked being around dogs. The dogs loved me.” He reached over and stroked Frenchie's back. His eyes misted over. “Frenchie was abandoned. Her parents never came back for her. It happens in kennels. Vets, too, my boss told me. Anyway, when I left there, they gave her to me because we'd bonded so much.”

Sophie held Frenchie up and peered into her black eyes. Her little head cocked to the right and left, assessing Sophie. “She's lucky to have you.”

“No, Sophie, she's not.”

“What?” Sophie stared at Jeremy, taking in his downcast eyes and somber expression.

“I can't keep Frenchie. I've already seen what it's like for her when I use. I forget to feed her. Walk her. Bathe her. Even pet her. I'm afraid I'll freak out someday and really hurt her. I love her too much for that to happen. I have to give her up.”

“Jeremy...she could be enough to make you want to stay straight.” Sophie didn't believe anyone was a lost cause. She had to give him hope.

He shook his head vigorously. “No. No, I know myself too well by now. I'm not kidding anyone anymore. Will you take Frenchie or not?”

“Me?” She shook her head. “There's no way. I work long hours, even on weekends sometimes. Plus I volunteer for Eleanor. I'd never be home to walk her or care for her. Frankly, I don't think I'd be any better for her than you.”

Sophie started to hand Frenchie back.

Jeremy recoiled. “No. I'm not good for her. You have to believe me. Please, Sophie. If you can't be her mom, find someone who will. She deserves a real home. She's the sweetest, smartest little dog ever. Tell me you'll help me.”

Frenchie blinked up at her. The little dog had already found a place in Sophie's heart. “I have no idea what to say or do. I'm new to being a sponsor. I don't know what the rules are or how we're supposed to react to this kind of thing...”

“You mean I'm your first gig?”

She nodded with a half smile.

“I figured you were like all the other do-gooder former addicts, trying to erase their own sins.”

“I'm not an addict. I've never done drugs or even been drunk. Eleanor took a chance on me because I want to help people like you who are having trouble coping with their disease.”

He worried his bottom lip as he listened to her. “So you don't think I'm a loser?”

“No. I think you're lost.”

Tears welled in his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am lost.” He jerked his head up to meet her eyes. “I've failed at every program imaginable. There's no hope for me.”

Shifting Frenchie into the crook of one arm, Sophie said, “I think there is. As long as one person on earth believes in you, then there's hope. She stood. “Besides. You just need to find a new addiction to replace your old addiction. We could start with garlic.”

“With...what?”

“I'm an excellent cook. Maybe once we get you some new clothes and a haircut, you could come out to my parents' farm. On Sundays my mother and grandmother put out a spread that you won't believe.”

“You would take me to meet your family?”

“Sure. Why not? You and Frenchie both might like them.”

He stood up next to her and said, “I wasn't thinking about me liking them. What would they say about you bringing home an addict? Won't they be afraid?”

She kissed the top of Frenchie's head, already feeling bonded to the little dog—and to Jeremy. “Nah. They know I could take you in less than sixty seconds if it came to that.”

Jeremy smiled, cracked teeth showing between his thin lips. “That was a joke, right?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Want to try me?” Holding Frenchie, she waved him forward. “Now, c'mon. Let's get something to eat. What do you feel like? Grilled cheese and tomato soup? Hamburger? Chili?”

“Pancakes and bacon,” he said. “They're my favorite.”

Sophie helped Jeremy put Frenchie into the backpack before they went inside to avoid any disapproval from the owner. She hooked her arm in his. “Pancakes and bacon it is.”

Sophie led him inside, where the accountant bikers were eating. Sophie ordered a large stack and two rashers of bacon for him. She sipped coffee while Jeremy ate.

He talked about his childhood. She noticed that most of his recollections and memories were negative. She took mental notes to research the possibility that Jeremy could have clinical depression. It was possible he was a manic-depressive. She remembered reading that bipolar disorder and alcoholism or drug abuse often occurred in tandem.

If doctors could diagnose and treat his underlying conditions, perhaps his addictions could be abated.

Just as Jeremy finished his last bite, he asked, “So, Sophie, can Frenchie stay with you?”

“For the time being—yes. I have to think about it.”

By the time they left, Jeremy was comfortable enough with Sophie to accept a ride back to town. She drove him to the shelter at the Salvation Army.

Afterward, she went into the Goodwill a few blocks away and bought him some jeans, shoes, tees and sweatshirts. At the Walmart she bought new underwear and socks. She drove back to the shelter and left the bags with the administrator. She gave the man her card and a gift certificate for Jeremy to get his hair cut at the salon next to the Walmart.

As she drove back to her apartment, Frenchie sat in her lap and stared out the window intensely, watching all the cars. She was obviously mesmerized by the traffic lights and neon signs. Frenchie was one observant pup.

Sophie didn't know what to do with Frenchie. She didn't have all that many friends in Indian Lake. Katia and Austin weren't even married yet and they were planning a long honeymoon. Mrs. Beabots had her hands full, often babysitting Sarah's kids next door. Nate and Maddie might be a fit, but both of them were out of the house all day, just as she was. No, it had to be someone who could take Frenchie to work.

Sophie turned onto Maple Boulevard from Main Street and glanced at Jack's insurance office building.

Jack! His house could use a bit of life. Since Jack owned his business, he could easily take Frenchie to the office.

Sophie reached over and petted Frenchie's head. The pup preened under her touch. Sophie smiled.

By taking Frenchie and promising to keep her safe, she'd made a difference in Jeremy's life. Tomorrow, she'd go see Jack. She could only pray she would make a difference for him, too.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

O
NE
DAY
WITH
Frenchie had taught Sophie that she needed to talk to Jack—and soon. Leaving Frenchie alone in her apartment while Sophie got called to work for an emergency upset the little dog so much that Mrs. Beabots had to come upstairs and comfort her. Then Katia arrived to pick up Mrs. Beabots for a hairdresser's appointment and they had to leave Frenchie alone again for another hour and a half. As far as they could tell, Frenchie barked and whimpered at the front door until their return.

“What are you going to do?” Mrs. Beabots asked that night after Sophie came home from the hospital. “You're the most overscheduled woman in Indian Lake and I can't promise to be home all the time for her, either.” She touched Frenchie's head. “So sweet.”

“I have a plan.”

“I hope so.”

“I thought I'd ask Jack Carter to take her.”

Mrs. Beabot's sky blue eyes flew open. “Jack? But he works all day, as well.”

Sophie smiled. “But he's the boss. He can make the office dog friendly.”

Mrs. Beabots grinned. “That is a plan, my dear.”

“Still, it's not going to be easy. He despises me. He'll never forgive me for Aleah's death.”

“Oh, he will. I've met Jack several times, both with my business and at parties and gatherings. He's a fair man. Be patient.”

Patience. Sophie looked at little Frenchie. Even if Jack felt guilty about Aleah now, as time wore on, Sophie hoped he would realize her death was not his fault.

Or mine.

She shivered slightly. She'd been over the incident a hundred—no, two hundred—times, and she couldn't categorically state that she'd made the right decision. Her choice to care for Greg Fulton had been technically and medically right. Accurate to the nth degree. But it had resulted in Aleah's death. What was right about that?

Was it her fault? Or was Aleah's time up? Was she meant to die no matter what, or was Sophie so arrogant as to believe, like many doctors did, that medicine was the ultimate decision maker? That their actions were the sole arbiters between life and death? Sophie was afraid she'd be asking herself those questions forever.

Sophie had a twofold purpose for meeting with Jack. The first was Frenchie. Sophie was convinced the little dog would help Jack mend his broken heart. Frenchie needed affection, and after witnessing Jack's reaction to Aleah's death, Sophie believed he had a lot of love to give. Secondly, she needed to talk to him about insurance for the Alliance. Sophie hoped Frenchie would turn down the temperature on Jack's anger toward her. If Frenchie could help her smooth things over with him personally, maybe he'd be open to providing the umbrella policy they needed.

But deep down, it pained her to think that Jack, a person she held in high esteem, could think so negatively about her. She wanted to be his hero.

* * *

A
MBUSH
.

It was the only way to deal with Jack, who'd refused to take her calls. Sophie had to pull out all the stops.
For Frenchie's sake
, she thought, as she chose a pretty blue-and-white summer dress and a pair of white pumps, letting her thick hair down around her shoulders. The less she looked like a nurse who might remind him of that night in the ER, the better.

As she glossed her lips with a sheen of pink, she wondered if it was possible for Jack to think of her as anyone but a person who brought him pain. The fact that she even cared about his opinion startled her.

Frenchie was sitting on the bath mat, staring up at her with a perky glint in her eye.

“So, little girl, are you ready to meet your new daddy?”

Frenchie barked.

* * *

S
OPHIE
SAT
IN
one of the red-and-white upholstered French chairs in Jack's office, taking in the view of the courthouse and the traffic below as she stroked Frenchie's head.

Just a few doors down was the Alliance. She pictured Eleanor working with one of her volunteer therapists or holding a meeting with clients. Sophie marveled at how easily someone like Jack could take no notice of what was going on less than a block away. If it weren't for Greg Fulton and the terrible accident he'd caused, Jack might never have glimpsed the suffering drugs had created in this community. And now here she was, hoping to bring him even closer to the situation.

Sophie knew that Jack alone wasn't the answer, but if there were a million Jacks across the country, a million Eleanors educating parents, teachers, doctors and addicts, it would all make a difference, wouldn't it?

Sophie was the tiniest cog in this monstrous wheel, but each effort she made was important. She had to believe that. She did believe that.

Melanie walked up to Sophie. “He's finishing up an important phone call right now, so it'll be a few minutes. Can I get you another cup of coffee?”

Sophie glanced at the china cup and saucer she held. She wondered if that was one of Katia's ideas. No Styrofoam. No paper. Not a mug. It reminded her of her mother's house. Family. And it gave her comfort. She smiled at Melanie. “I'm fine, thanks. But it's good coffee.”

“I like it, too. Katia talked Maddie Barzonni into sharing her beans with us.”

“Maddie should sell them by the pound,” Sophie offered.

“She does, but only in Chicago.” Melanie leaned in conspiratorially. “Maddie doesn't want to take business away from Scott Abbot. He sells his beans, too, you know.”

Sophie was again struck by the closeness between Katia, Maddie and other people in town. For so long, Sophie had been caught up in her world of surgery, her father's cancer and helping her mother and grandmother. That and too many unimportant dates with men whose names she often couldn't remember.

In less than a year, she'd started seeing just about everything in a new light. Her town, her friends, her job...even her family. She'd always cherished them, but they were vastly more important to her now than they had been.

Maybe I'm growing up. Finally.

“What about this little one?” Melanie asked, reaching out to pet Frenchie's head. “Can I get her some water?”

“I brought a dish and a bottle for her.” Sophie smiled. “She should be fine. Thanks for asking.”

Melanie sighed. “She's adorable. What my kids wouldn't do for a dog like her.” She straightened up. “But my husband is allergic.”

“What a shame.”

“You're telling me.” Melanie laughed.

Just then Jack stepped out of his office and spotted them across the room. Today he wore a dark navy suit, white shirt, navy tie with white dots and black dress shoes. Though he glared at her as he approached, she couldn't help thinking she'd never seen a more handsome man in her life.

“Sophie,” he said, his voice hovering just above a growl. “What are you doing here?” He shot Melanie an accusing gaze.

“She doesn't have an appointment,” Melanie began.

He pointed at Frenchie. “Who's your friend?” His voice softened.

Sophie took it as a sign. She stood instantly. “Please, Jack. Don't blame Melanie, it's not her fault. If you have another appointment, I understand. I wanted to talk to you about something in private, if I may.”

He consulted his watch. “I have fifteen minutes but that's all. If you tell me what this is about we could schedule—”

“I'll take the fifteen minutes,” Sophie interjected quickly, switching Frenchie to her left arm. She wasn't about to give him a chance to dismiss her and never call back. Plus, she was afraid she might not have the courage to face him again.

Jack ground his jaw. “Fine. Let's go into my office.” He stood back and politely gestured toward it.

Sophie smiled at him, but when he shot back with a look so cold it could flash freeze small animals, she shielded Frenchie with her hand and wiped the expression off her face. She marched through the door like it was the principal's office in elementary school.

He sat behind his desk, folded his hands in his lap and stared at her.

Sophie gingerly took a seat. Jack was impeccable. Not a dark hair out of place. Gold cuff links on his shirt. This imposing man couldn't have been further from the vulnerable patient she'd treated less than six weeks ago. Still, there were signs that there was more beneath this stern, fastidious appearance. Sophie noticed several paintings on the walls by Isabelle Hawks. Sophie recognized her fairy and water sprite paintings from working a booth with her at the Summer Festival. Beneath each piece was a tiny price sticker. Jack was helping Isabelle sell her art.

“Nice paintings,” she said, trying to break the silence.

“Fourteen minutes, Sophie. Not a second longer.”

Sophie felt a rumble of fear in her stomach. She forced a pleasant smile. “Jack, I'm here to change your life.”

“You already did that, remember?” he said icily, but Sophie felt his broken heart through the cold splinters.

She'd been dead-on. Frenchie was just what Jack needed.

“A friend of mine entrusted this precious little Yorkie-Poo to me, hoping I'd find her a home.” Sophie pinned Jack with her eyes. “That would be you, Jack. Your home needs Frenchie.”

Jack nearly spat. “You're out of your mind!”

“I'm not. Frenchie is homeless. You have all that space, that gorgeous view and no one to share it with. Frenchie isn't a bother at all,” Sophie cooed as she peered into Frenchie's upturned face and ink-black eyes. Sophie smiled at the dog.

At that moment Frenchie bounded out of Sophie's lap and scampered over to Jack. She tapped his shoe, then backed away, sizing him up. With a wiggle of her short tail, she bent her back legs and sprang smack dab onto Jack's lap.

“What?”

Before Jack could say another word, Frenchie had skipped up Jack's middle to his shoulder and rested her tiny legs on his chest so she could lick his face.

“She likes you!” Sophie exclaimed with delight. “Oh, Jack. She doesn't do that for just anybody.”

“What about you?”

“Okay. Me. But that's all,” Sophie admitted.

Frenchie kept licking, and Jack gently put his hands around her.

“She's awfully thin.”

“I know.”

Jack laughed. “It tickles.” He laughed again.

Sophie felt her heart open, expand and welcome the sound of Jack's laughter.

Jack grew serious. “You're sure everything's all right?”

“I'm fine,” Sophie answered before realizing Jack had no idea what had just happened to her. What
had
happened? Something. Everything. But the moment had been so elusive, she wasn't sure. What she did know was that Jack was falling in love—with Frenchie.

“No, the dog. I mean, has she been eating?”

“She's a Yorkie-Poo and only supposed to weigh six or seven pounds. But I also think she's a bit on the slight side.”

“Well,” he said with a tinge of accusation just as Frenchie leaped up and licked his bottom lip.

Lucky girl
, Sophie thought.

“What I meant was, have you checked her out?”

“Checked?”

“Like with the vet? Has she had her shots? Been wormed? All these things are important.”

“And you know this because...”

“I had dogs when I was growing up. My sister has a golden retriever. Older than Sarah's Beau.”

“I haven't had time to get an appointment,” Sophie replied. “She's only been with me a couple of days.”

Jack held Frenchie up in the air and wiggled his nose against hers. “She's the cutest thing I've ever seen.” He frowned and shoved her toward Sophie. “But I can't take her. I work all the time. I wouldn't want to leave her alone.”

“Who said anything about leaving her alone?” Sophie moved to the edge of her chair and rested her right hand on his desk. She took a deep breath for courage. “You could bring her to work.”

“Here?” He shook his head vigorously. “No way.”

“Why not? You're the boss. You make the rules.”

“I'd have to ask the landlord.”

“Sharon? I already called her. There's no stipulation against dogs. Just a pet deposit. I'll pay it.” Sophie smiled brightly at Jack.

“I can't take the responsibility.”

Sophie's eyes rounded. “I never thought I'd hear those words from you.” She guffawed. “Boy, I wish I had that one on tape. You take on all kinds of responsibility.”

Jack pulled Frenchie back to his chest and started scratching her behind her ears. Frenchie preened. Tilted her head to the side so that Jack could rub the right side of her neck. “You can't just go around making assumptions about people and their lives, Sophie. You should have thought this through.”

“I did, Jack.” She moved even closer and lowered her voice. “You see, Frenchie has no one but us. She's a rescue to begin with. One of the clients of the Alliance gave her to me...”

“You mean an addict?”

Sophie was undeterred. “He needs help, Jack. Yes. He has a disease, but he's a smart guy and knows he can't care for Frenchie the way she should be. She needs you. She needs love. Just look at you. You can't take your hands off her.”

Jack looked down. He'd cradled Frenchie in his left arm like a newborn and had been scratching her throat. The little dog was nearly asleep.

Silence.

“Jack,” Sophie continued. “Please don't take your anger out on little Frenchie. She's an angel, but I can't leave her all day and night when I'm in surgery or the ER. You could bring her to work with you. She doesn't like being alone. I bought a little seat for her to ride in the car.”

“You had her two days and you bought a car seat?”

Sophie's smile was soft. “I didn't want her to get hurt when I drove her to the store. I want her to be safe.”