A Gift Of Grace. Inglath Cooper

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СКАЧАТЬ CHURCH ON SUNDAY, Sophie and Grace turned in at the wooden sign marking the entrance to the Open Hearts Animal Home off route 29. The back of the Volvo was weighed down with donated items.

      Open Hearts had bought an old farm out in the country for its facility, converting the house and barn as well as a couple of other buildings into housing for unwanted dogs and cats. Sophie stopped the car in front of the house where a sign read Visitors Enter Here, Please. She got Grace out of the car seat, and they went inside to the registration desk.

      A woman appeared from the hallway to their left. Tall and thin with crinkly blue eyes, she wore faded denim overalls. Her dark hair hung in a braid to the center of her back. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Teresa Moore, the shelter director. Could I help you?”

      “I’m Sophie Owens. We spoke on the phone last week. My daughter, Grace, has some things to donate from her birthday party.”

      “Oh, yes. How wonderful of you, Grace.”

      Grace dropped her eyes at the woman’s compliment, obviously pleased.

      They unloaded the car, bringing everything into the foyer and stacking it in the corner. It was an impressive amount of stuff.

      “I can’t tell you how much all of this will be appreciated,” Teresa said, shaking her head.

      “You’re welcome,” Sophie replied. “Would it be possible for Grace to pick out a dog for her birthday?”

      Grace looked up at Sophie, her little mouth making a small O of surprise, her eyes widening. “Really, Mama?”

      “Really,” Sophie said, running a hand across her daughter’s silky hair.

      “Just follow me,” Teresa said, waving them down the hall. At the end, she opened a door, and they were greeted by a chorus of excited barks.

      “Everyone in here is available for adoption. They’ve all had shots and been spayed or neutered if they’re old enough.”

      Grace stood for a moment, clearly not sure where to look first.

      “Come on, sweetie,” Sophie said, taking her hand. They walked down the aisle, greeted at each cage with boisterous tail wagging. There was one exception. A medium-size black-and-white dog, notable in that she was the only one who had stayed at the back of her cage, her head resting on stretched-out paws, looking as if she’d long ago given up hope of a different life. Grace stopped at the dog’s door. “What’s her name?”

      “Lily,” Teresa said.

      Across the aisle, a chorus of excited yipping drew Grace’s attention. Five round-bellied puppies were conducting a wrestling match in the middle of the run. “Oh!” Grace bolted over and squatted down to peer through the chain-link door.

      Teresa smiled. “Aren’t they cute? They’re eight weeks old as of yesterday, so they can be adopted now, too.”

      “Oh, Mama,” Grace breathed.

      “They’re adorable,” Sophie said.

      “Would you like to play with them?” Teresa asked.

      Grace nodded. Teresa opened the door, and they all bounded out into the aisle, tumbling over one another. Grace giggled and ran after them. They played for several minutes while Sophie and Teresa watched with smiles on their faces.

      “Do you want to take one of the puppies, Grace?” Sophie asked.

      Grace looked up from the concrete floor where she sat with three of them climbing up her lap. She looked at the puppies and then at the older dog who had yet to get up from her position at the back of the cage.

      “Why does Lily look so sad?”

      “Lily has been here a long time,” Teresa said.

      “Is she sad because nobody’s picked her?”

      Teresa lifted one shoulder and sighed. “No matter how well we take care of them, it’s not the same as having a home.”

      Grace glanced down at the wiggling puppies on her lap, then back to Lily who was gazing at her with eyes devoid of any expectation. Grace remained silent for several moments. And then said, “Mama, can I see Lily?”

      “Is it all right, Teresa?”

      “Of course.” She put the puppies back in their cage where they continued their wrestling. She opened Lily’s door and looked at Grace. “You can go in and pet her. She’s really good with children.”

      Grace walked to the back of the run, squatted and rubbed Lily’s long coat. “She’s soft.”

      “I suspect she has some cocker spaniel in her. And some type of setter, judging from her coat. She’s a very sweet dog. Probably the most undemanding one here.”

      Lily’s tailed thumped once. Grace kept rubbing her. After a few moments, Lily stood up, her head low, tail tucked.

      Grace glanced back at the puppies, then looked at Sophie. “I want to pick Lily, Mama.”

      Lily raised her head and licked Grace’s cheek.

      “Lily, it is,” Sophie said. “Let’s take her home.”

      LILY NEEDED A COLLAR and leash, a doggy bed and a bone to chew on.

      So proclaimed Grace, along with her desire to buy them at the place where Noah lived.

      “I want to tell him about Lily, Mama.”

      There were other places they could have gone Lily-shopping, other places that were closer than Tucker’s. But Sophie reasoned that Grace liked the yellow Lab, and why shouldn’t they give the store their business when its owner had been nice enough to haul that hay out to their house for them?

      After Sophie got back from her morning classes on Monday, she changed clothes, brushed some fresh powder across her nose, put on a medium-pink lipstick she usually only wore at night.

      Halfway down the hall, she turned back to the bathroom, pulled out the rubber band that had anchored her hair at her neck, brushed through it a few times, started to put it back up, then at the last second, left it loose around her shoulders.

      CALEB SPENT MOST OF the day at the store, working in the office upstairs and watching the register out front while Macy went to lunch.

      It was almost one-thirty when the front door dinged. Sophie and Grace Owens came in and stood on the other side of the counter. A hot and cold blast of emotion washed over him.

      “Afternoon, Dr. Owens,” he said, aiming his voice toward steady and even when everything else inside him rocked like a dingy on storm-churned seas.

      “Hello,” she said.

      “Hay bales hold up?”

      “Yes. They did.” She cleared her throat, a small, feminine sound that somehow stood out in contrast with her precise, no-nonsense manner. “Thank you again for bringing them out. And, please, it’s Sophie.”

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