Kellie taps her temple. “I just went over her paperwork. Elsa is almost a year old. I’ll have to double check her exact age. She’s a blend of retriever and Australian shepherd. Maybe a bit of Labrador thrown in, too.”
“Can’t go wrong with any of those. They’re all great for being around kids.”
She nods. “Definitely. I remember she spent several months with a foster family who had young children. Elsa has always been socialized with other pets. She’s never shown any sign of aggression.”
“How long has she been here?”
“A little less than a month. She’s had several serious inquiries, but none have taken to her quite like your daughter.”
I glance over at the newly acquainted best friends. Elsa swipes her massive tongue along Millie’s cheek. My daughter giggles and wipes off the slobber. She’s a goner. I know that giddy expression quite well, and there will be no dulling of that shine if I can control it. A sigh whisks any drop of tension from my posture. “Well, Kellie. Unless there’s anything major in her file, I believe we’re set.”
Her light eyes twinkle in the harsh overhead lamps. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely. I can’t tear them apart. It might hurt me more than my little girl to do so.”
“I can empathize. We don’t want to cause any pain, that’s for certain. This is a big decision,” Kellie reminds.
“We aren’t making it lightly.”
“It’s settled then. I’ll bring the care instructions and adoption agreement with me. Give me five minutes.”
“Sounds great.”
Once Kellie is gone, I kneel beside Millie and Elsa. Our dog—calling her that might take some getting used to—grants me a sloppy smooch before returning her affections to Millie. “I can see you two are getting along.”
My daughter beams at me. “We get to take her home, right? Mama, I love her. Please tell me she can be our dog.”
That title again. It warms every fractured piece inside of me. “If everything checks out, she can leave with us today.”
“Yay!” Millie pumps her little fist in the air. “She’s the best pup ever.”
I give Elsa a pat of my own. “It seems that way.”
“Thank you, Mama. This is the best present ever. I’m going to take the best care of her.” She buries her nose in Elsa’s fur.
“Seeing you this happy makes me extremely happy, too.”
“Now we’re a bigger family,” she mumbles against Elsa’s cheek. I swear the dog tilts lower to accept more hugs.
I wipe under my eyes, more moisture gathering from the display. Before this day is done, I’ll be wrung dry. “You two are adorable. Let me take a picture.”
Millie’s smile is huge as she poses for the camera. Elsa is naturally photogenic, as well, and the image they create is enough to melt me into a sentimental puddle of tears. I snap a few shots before tucking my phone away. “We’ll have to stop at the store for supplies.”
“Oh, yes. Like a pink bling collar so we can take her on walks.”
I laugh at her priorities. “Among other necessities. She might like to eat, too.”
A dreamy look crosses her face. “Do you think she’ll get along with Patch?”
I went all morning without thinking about Crawford. Over four hours of blissful peace are whisked away with a single question. It takes herculean effort to keep my smile from slipping. “Maybe? I’m not sure they’ll meet each other, sweetie.”
“Why not? They can play together in the woods.”
I have every intention of staying away from that section of forest. Indefinitely. “We can discuss that later.”
Her lips form a flat line. “That means no.”
“Why does our dog have to be friends with Patch?”
“Then we can see Ford.”
I swallow a scream, mostly for my crumbling pride. “Why do you like Ford so much, Mills?”
“He gets it.”
“Can you tell me what that is?”
She shrugs. “He understands why I don’t like talking to people.”
And I’m officially the worst mom ever. I feel my eyes get hot again and blink at the quickly forming tears. “Oh, baby girl. I’m so sorry. I had no idea you felt that way.”
“It’s okay.” From her flat tone, I can tell it’s most certainly not.
And just like that, my own defenses take a brutal hit. My daughter is a terrible influence on me when it comes to that man. How can I stay away from Crawford when Millie is his number one fan? If she knew what a temptation he is to me, there would be no avoiding another seemingly chance encounter. “Maybe we’ll bump into Ford and Patch soon.”
Millie’s mouth twitches with the first signs of a happy comeback. “Can you call him?”
I choke down my immediate response. That doesn’t mean I have to form a lie. “I don’t have his number, sweetie.”
“Should we look it up? Or we can just stop by his shop.”
How do I respond to that? Simple. Focus on the positive. “How about we celebrate finding our perfect dog and worry about Ford later?”
She narrows her eyes on me, and I brace for another retort. The strain in my neck eases when Millie relaxes against Elsa. “Okay, Mama. I’ll accept that answer.” I’m about to begin a mental victory dance when she quietly tacks on, “But only until tomorrow.”
Healing Hug #16: A last resort when all else fails.
I sink deeper into the camping chair, commanding my body to unravel and accept a lazy state of relaxation. This is the same task that I’ve been attempting for almost an hour. Deep breathing and beer be damned, my muscles won’t quit twitching. I’ve been wired all afternoon without the slightest inkling as to what’s behind the sudden influx of distress. Silence and serenity are no longer my friends.
Sure, I’ve been out of sorts and battling with myself. No fight is an easy win while I push at borders of my own making. My level of normal has been subjected to a serious overhaul, and I know adjusting to new habits takes longer than a week or two.
