The Replacement. Anne Duquette Marie

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СКАЧАТЬ time Lindsey broke off a bigger piece of crust with a chunk of apple filling. She placed the food inches away from the dog’s alert eyes and again waited a few minutes. Then she casually reached toward the pie chunk again. Ginger lifted her head and gulped the food down, her motions canine-quick. Lindsey reached for the plate of pie, and set the whole thing in front of Ginger. The dog licked the plate, next licked the pie itself, then, still lying down, she began gulping pieces of pie.

      “Well. I see you haven’t lost your magical touch,” Eric said.

      Lindsey shrugged. “Nothing magical about it. The dog obviously considers this fireplace area home base. She watched me sit on the hearth, then tensed when I sat on the rug. She hasn’t closed her eyes since. She’s still territorial. I figured she’d challenge me for that food sooner or later. Besides, she’s a golden.”

      “Huh?”

      “She hasn’t given up the ghost. Her breed adapts easily to new owners. Some, like German shepherds, don’t. That’s why retrievers are replacing shepherds as service dogs for the handicapped. They can be trained as puppies and passed on to new owners as adults with much less emotional trauma to the animal. Do you have any of that stew left?”

      “Yeah.” Eric rose and hurried to the stove to scoop out Lindsey’s share of the dinner. Lindsey took the plate and set it on the rug next to the pie plate.

      “Go on, Ginger,” Lindsey urged. “You had dessert. Time for the main course.” Ginger didn’t hesitate a minute. She actually rose to her feet to eat. Lindsey took the plate and lifted it onto the raised hearth so the dog would swallow less air. “No gas bloat for you, girl. Eat up. Compassionate leave is canceled. Tomorrow morning—back to work.”

      Eric watched as Lindsey’s hand toyed with the long fur on Ginger’s ears. He remembered those fingers, gentle, soothing, skilled, touching him with love during their passion-filled nights.

      “Naomi was right. You still have a gift with animals.”

      “My father has the real gift. I learned from him. Where’s the dog food? She’s almost done with the stew.”

      “I’ll get it.” Eric hurried to the dried food. He dumped a few cups of it into the empty stew pot and stirred, coating the nuggets with leftover gravy. Lindsey took the pot from him and started hand-feeding Ginger, who allowed the familiarity.

      “Naomi told me you hadn’t replaced your dog.”

      “Her name was Missy.”

      Eric caught the edge to her voice—the first sign of emotion she’d directed his way. “I remember…. Haven’t you missed—” Working with dogs? Suddenly, what he wanted to ask stilled his tongue. Haven’t you missed working with me? Missed us together? His eyes studied the diamond on her hand.

      Lindsey didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s always rough to lose a partner, two-legged or four. Sorry to hear about the loss of Eva.”

      “We all are. Last week there were four of us, and now…”

      Lindsey finished for him. “You’re stuck with me.”

      “I wouldn’t exactly call it being stuck, Lindsey,” Eric said quietly.

      “If they could’ve found anyone else for a replacement… But they couldn’t, not on such short notice. I’d never have come otherwise.”

      His stomach fell at that, but he refused to let it show. He glanced pointedly at her ring. “So I gathered. Who’s the lucky guy?”

      “No one you know.” Lindsey stacked the cleaned dinner dish and pie plate in the empty stew pot and got to her feet. Ginger still watched her closely as Lindsey set the dishes in the kitchen sink. “I’m going outside with the dog. Where did Eva take her to relieve herself?”

      “A couple hundred feet behind the summer storage sheds—not the same place you used for Missy. I imagine the dog knows the way.”

      “I’m not taking any chances. Where’s her leash?”

      “I—” Eric looked around. “I don’t know. Sorry.”

      “Obviously you never considered this dog part of your team,” Lindsey said sharply. “But then, commitment was never your strong point, was it? Excuse me…sir.”

      Lindsey and the dog headed for the glassed-in porch, leaving Eric feeling as empty inside as the unwashed stew pot.

      Women’s bedroom

       9:00 p.m.

      LINDSEY UNPACKED THE FEW belongings she’d brought, the dog alertly watching her from a safe distance.

      “I know the feeling, Ginger,” Lindsey said softly. “I don’t know what to expect from you, either. Or anyone else here, for that matter.”

      Ginger’s ears perked up, but there was no responding tail thump at the sound of her voice, just as there had been no warmth in Eric’s eyes at Lindsey’s presence. The man she’d once trusted with her body, heart and soul had acted as cautiously around her as the dog had—even more so, truth be told.

      “It’s not like I bite or anything,” Lindsey said. She dug into her meager pack of personal items with a stiff arm and rummaged around for her over-the-counter painkillers and muscle liniment. “If I feel this sore now, Lord help me tomorrow,” she said, easily slipping back into the long-unused habit of talking to dogs. “I hope this bed is soft, girl, because I could sure use some rest before tomorrow.”

      She stripped down to her long underwear and socks, started to ease her weary body under the thermal sheets, thick blankets and down coverlet, then stopped. “I hate going to bed alone when it’s cold, don’t you? I’m used to Missy keeping me warm in snow country. I guess you’re used to Eva.”

      Lindsey knelt down on the floor and took the retriever’s face in her hands. Her eyes dampened with tears at the waste of Eva’s life, the lost look on the dog’s face.

      “I know this bed is more yours than mine, Ginger,” she said softly. “And I know I’m not who you want in it. But maybe we can share, okay? I promise to take good care of you…no strings attached. Fresh starts for us both, okay? You’re still alive and kicking, right?” Lindsey stood and patted the bottom of the bed. “Come on, girl. Let’s hit the sack.”

      Ginger watched her warily. Lindsey climbed under the covers, then patted the bed again. “The carpet’s nothing like a down-filled comforter. Awfully cold on that floor. Eva wouldn’t want you to be cold, you know.” The dog remained on the rug.

      “Suit yourself, Ginger. The invitation’s open.” Lindsey turned out the small light by the side of the bed, her disappointment at Eric’s coolness compounded by the dog’s rejection. “Good night, girl. Sleep tight. Don’t let the snow fleas bite. Yosemite does have snow fleas, you know. When’s the last time you had a new flea collar?” Lindsey yawned. “I’ll check tomorrow. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

      Lindsey burrowed under the bed linens, noticing that the sheets smelled faintly of laundry soap and fabric softener. A fresh herb sachet lay underneath the pillow. Only Naomi made those. Eric’s sister had been surprisingly kind. Lindsey made a mental note to thank her, then lifted her head from the pillow for one last comment.

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