Ginny Aiken - A Daughter's Homecoming

“Work?” Zach dropped down on one knee to check behind a stack of white five-gallon pails near the back of the room. “I thought you said you work in Cleveland.”

“I do, but I’m helping out at Tony’s right now. Mama hasn’t gone in since Papa had the stroke.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “No wonder you looked familiar. That picture in the restaurant is you.” He studied her for a moment, then he smiled. “So you’re the Carlinis’ Gabi. I’ve heard a lot about you. Everyone who meets your parents does.”

The blush shot straight up to her forehead. “I’m sorry they bored you with all that stuff. No matter what, I can’t get them to stop.”

“Don’t apologize.” He stood. “My mom and dad have been gone for six and eight years now, and I miss them every day. I wouldn’t mind being embarrassed by their pride every now and then, if that meant they were still around. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

Gabi braced against the shudder. Oh, yes. She knew.

Sure, she had some issues when it came to her family—fine, fine, more than some. Still, a surge of fear so intense it knotted her stomach, making it hard to breathe, and strong enough to almost bring her to her knees, had struck when Mama had called to tell her about Papa’s stroke. Her knees had remained weak and her icy hands had shivered for hours after the phone call. Gabi had never felt so vulnerable in her life.

Antonio Carlini was gruff and a tease and as Old Country as they came, but he was also a rock, her papa. In a vague, subconscious way, she’d always known her parents were getting older, but her mother’s phone call had made that reality much more real. It had shaken her that day. It still did.

But as much as she loved her folks, there were some things about their boisterous...oh...Italian-ness that made her crazy. That wasn’t anything Zach needed to know. “Thanks—again. Anyway, no sign of the beastlet over there?”

He chuckled as he stood. “None, but let’s not give up yet. He’s pretty small, and we store mountains of supplies back here. He could hide just about anywhere.”

Gabi smiled back. “And we won’t hear an informant ratting on him, will we?”

She peeked into the corner behind a neat stack of sealed tubs of antibacterial products but found no trace of her escapee. Then she heard a rustle and a crunch from the other side of the room, where fifty-pound sacks of kibble lay in a neat stack about ten high, looking much like a store display—supersize, of course.

She turned, grinned, brought a finger to her lips. “Listen.” More crunches. “I found him. Look over there, at your mountain of dog kibble sacks.”

He quirked up one corner of his mouth and pointed toward their left. “You go that way,” he said in an equally quiet voice. “I’ll go to the right. Maybe he’s so hungry he won’t hear us coming.”

Gabi grinned. “The element of surprise.”

“You got it.” Mischief twinkled in the silver-flecked gaze. “On the count of three. One, two, three...go!”

Quickly and quietly Gabi followed his command.

The munching continued. A few feet away, she slowed, matched her steps to Zach’s. The pup’s hunger appeared unabated, his burger meal notwithstanding.

With her bottom lip between her teeth, she stepped closer, hoping the fugitive didn’t make himself sick eating so much so fast. Time to retrieve him, for his own good. She mouthed, Ready?

Zach nodded. “Grab a bag—I will, too. That’ll flush him out.”

They reached at the same time, yanked two sacks of kibble out of the way. The munching stopped with a startled yip. Sharp claws scrabbled against sleek concrete floor after a second of silence. Then the filthy scrap of canine darted out from the right side of the rest of the stacked bags. Zach was ready for him.

“Gotcha!” The shelter director scooped up Gabi’s find, undeterred by the dog’s filthy coat and strong eau de mutt scent, even though his nostrils did twitch.

“I hate to say it, but I do need to get back to Tony’s.” Her gaze stuck to the little dog. She wished she could—

No. She couldn’t let herself think like that. For the umpteenth time, she reminded herself that she was in no position to adopt a stray. “What do we need to do next?”

Zach narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips. But all he said was, “Paperwork. Let me put this guy in his own guest quarters so he doesn’t get away from us again, and then we can take care of the business end of things. You need to know we’re about to have an adoption fair in a week’s time. He’ll be included in it—all the animals in the shelter at that time will be. Are you sure about this?”

Tears stung Gabi’s eyes once again. No, she wasn’t sure. But she had a lease to honor. And she’d built a whole life somewhere else. She was sure of that. But about the dog...

She swallowed. Hard. “I’m sure.”

She hoped.

* * *

“Pretty girl, isn’t she?” Oscar Worley, the shelter’s most faithful volunteer, asked Zach a few minutes after Gabi Carlini had left.

“It’s a he.” Zach held the still-trembling new arrival close to his chest while the sink filled with warm water. “And I don’t know how you can say he’s pretty. Filthy and a ragtag assortment of dog breed parts? Yes. Cute once I wash him? Maybe. Lovable? Of course. But a pretty dog? No way.”

Oscar tsk-tsked. “Never made you out for a fool, Zach. The girl. That girl’s awfully pretty. She always has been a pretty one, with those big brown eyes and all that dark hair, ever since she was a little thing.”

Even though he fought it with all his might, the blush reached up to the roots of Zach’s hair. “Ah...well, I...um...paid attention to the dog. I did have a job to do.”

Oscar laughed. “Fess up, now, boss. I know Gabi and I know you. She’s pretty, you noticed, and it’s perfectly fine if you are drawn to a girl like her. No shame in that, son. None at all.”

To avoid Oscar’s too-keen gaze, Zach turned off the spigot and plopped his new charge into the warm water. “Now that you mention it, okay—” The pup’s yelps gave him cover, so he cut off his response. He turned to the dog but continued to glance at Oscar as he worked.

“A man could do worse, Zach,” the older man said. “Much worse. She’s a terrific young woman—smart, hardworking, with a heart as big as our Puget Sound.” He winked. “And pretty.”

Zach sent his friend a crooked grin. “I think you’ve said it about a dozen times, Oscar. I get your drift. But I’m the last man who’s looking for a ‘pretty’ girl. Not right now, that’s for sure. I’ve got a lot on my plate—too much.” He cleared his throat. “Remember, I’m new around here. Lyndon Point’s counting on me to put the shelter on solid footing, and that’s going to take up just about all of my time. Maybe a couple of years from now I’ll look around for one of these ‘pretty’ girls of yours. Right here in town, too, okay?”

“Just watch out, son.” The older man ran a hand through his thinning white hair. “The good ones, they don’t come around all that often, you know. If a man’s not paying attention, some other smarter fellow will snap up the one who’s walking by. Right out from under your nose.”

A squirt of canine shampoo frothed into gunky brown suds on the dog’s dirty coat. It was going to take multiple tries to get him clean. “That’s why I’m not looking these days. Right now, my situation’s not one that lends itself to dating. I can’t afford the time, so I don’t look. That way, the one that gets snapped up won’t cause me any heartburn. I choose to focus on the dogs. And the cats.”

Oscar reached for the industrial steel bucket on wheels where he’d mixed hot water and the shelter’s pungent antibacterial cleaner, and headed toward the rear section of kennels. “Just make sure you don’t pass up the right one just because you’re still letting what’s over and done with hold you back. Look around you, son. Smell the salt air. Trust God.” He drew a deep breath. “Otherwise, you could wind up filling your days with a bucket and a mop just to get out of an empty, lonely house. Like me.”