Roxanne Rustand - Almost A Family

“But this one needs us,” Lily persisted. “We wanted a dog, and this one just appeared. It’s like it was meant to be.”

Erin reached out to stroke the dog’s damp, silky head. He smelled suspiciously like her twelve-dollars-a-bottle shampoo, and a glance toward the kitchen revealed a very wet floor littered with her best company towels.

“He’s darling. But what if there are kids just like you who are crying over their lost friend?”

Tyler bit his lower lip. “We figured we could post some notices.”

“Yeah. I could do that,” Drew said quickly. “All over.”

“If someone loved him, how come he’s so skinny?” Lily reached out and ran her hand along his ribs. “Just look. And he was covered with burrs, and one of his paws had dry blood on it. Anyway, there aren’t even any houses close to here, ’cept the man up on the hill.”

“And he already saw Scout, and he didn’t say anything about not letting us keep him here,” Drew added triumphantly.

“Connor—Dr. Reynolds—was here?”

“Just on the road.” Drew felt his smile droop into a scowl. “I don’t like him much.”

Erin’s senses sharpened. “Why do you say that?” she asked, carefully keeping her tone neutral.

“He kept saying stuff like we shouldn’t be disappointed, because Scout probably has a home. I bet he hopes it’s true!”

Erin’s heart tightened. “Maybe he was just trying to help.”

“So can we keep Scout? Please?”

She gave a distracted wave. “We’ll see. I’ll, um, call the animal shelter, and put an ad in the local paper.”

Tyler blanched. “An ad? For everyone to see?”

“Honey, wouldn’t that be fair? What if you lost a dog you loved very much? You’d always wonder and worry about what happened to him.”

The children’s expressions fell into deep despair.

“There’s always the possibility that someone just dumped him on the side of the road, though,” she added. “People can be very cruel, or ignorant—they think it’s better than taking a pet to the shelter, and never consider that the animal may starve or be injured. If no one claims this guy, we’ll keep him. If someone does, we’ll go to the shelter and find another dog. I promise.”

While she put away groceries and started supper, she watched them through the kitchen window.

Lily, the limp from her poorly repaired clubfoot so much more noticeable when she tried to run with the pup, beamed with a joy that lit up her sweet face.

Drew so rarely smiled, but now his shouts of laughter echoed through the meadow. And Tyler had for these past few moments seemed like any other carefree child you’d see playing in a backyard, instead of one who’d lived through hell. Please, Lord, let this dog stay with us, she whispered.

Bracing her hands on the sink, Erin closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side, working out the tension in her neck.

No easy day, this. Poor Frank Willoughby—who’d been on the verge of discharge—should have been back at the nursing home with his wife by now, eating supper. And Connor…

Ignoring the uneasy feeling in her stomach, Erin washed her hands, unwrapped a pound of ground beef and began forming patties.

She’d never expected to run into Connor, much less end up as his neighbor, but she’d made a promise to Stephanie and she planned to keep it.

Even if her premonition of trouble was growing with each passing day.

CONNOR GRIMACED as he hesitated at the door of Ollie’s Diner on Thursday morning, even as the aromas of bacon and coffee and hot, caramel-drenched cinnamon rolls beckoned.

When deciding to come up to Blackberry Hill, he’d planned to cover Ed’s clinic, take good care of the patients and spend the rest of his time in blessed solitude up on Hadley’s Mountain. He’d sworn not to become involved in local hospital politics.

God knew he just wanted to be left alone, especially after the incident at the hospital in Green Bay.

But Grace Fisher—an unopposable force if there ever was one—and his own deceptively sweet office nurse, Linda, had conspired against him, and here he was, walking into a meeting he’d planned to avoid.

Sighing heavily, he stepped inside the small entryway and right into the 1940s. On one side, red vinyl stools faced the long lunch counter with its old-fashioned soda fountain, while high-backed booths lined the other, and Formica-topped tables filled the space between. War posters, antique kitchen utensils and curling vintage calendars covered the walls.

Every available seat was taken, and the din from clinking china, bustling waitresses and the lively conversation of patrons was nearly deafening. He scanned the room for a familiar face.

Guess not. Smiling to himself, he turned to go.

“Wait,” a deep voice boomed from the rear of the room. “Come on back—we’re right here!”

All conversation ceased. All eyes turned to the entryway. Feeling like a burglar caught in the act, Connor stopped and looked over his shoulder. Arnold Olson, a local family-practice GP, waved vigorously from an arched doorway at the far end of the diner. Behind him, Connor glimpsed the edge of a booth set apart from the others.

Wishing he’d moved to the door a little faster, Connor made his way through the crowded room, nodding to the tables full of people welcoming him every step of the way.

“Hey, Doc—I seen your picture in the paper,” called one beaming, white-haired old gent in overalls and a red flannel shirt. “Mighty glad to have you here while Hadley’s gone!”

Clapping him on the shoulder, Connor sidestepped between the last set of tables and a waitress laden with an armload of overflowing plates.

“Good to see you again,” murmured Leland Anderson, a thin, fastidious GP from nearby Portville. He sat in the booth next to Arnold, whose belly barely fit behind the table.

Dr. Jill Edwards, a brunette with her hair caught in a classy twist, glanced up at Connor as she started to slide out of the booth. “Hi, Connor. If you’re joining everyone here, you can have my place. I need to meet my husband.”

“Hold on, you can’t go yet. We won’t have a quorum,” Arnold snorted. He waved impatiently at Connor. “Come on, pull up a chair. Your opinion is important, too.”

Connor grabbed an empty chair from a table in the main dining area and brought it to the back booth. Only then did he notice Erin in the corner, her short, dark hair gleaming in the dim light and her delicate features nearly hidden in the shadows as she studied the documents on the table in front of her.

He caught unexpected surprise—and wariness—in her eyes when she finally looked up at him.

“Connor. How…nice of you to join us.”

Wariness? Where the hell did that come from? Then again, she’d been distantly related to Stephanie and would have known her parents. He could well imagine what Regina and Victor would have said about him to anyone who would listen.

Erin glanced at her watch, then picked up the stack of papers in front of her and tapped them into a neat pile. “We were just talking about the needs of the staff and patients at the hospital.”

“And possible ways to improve its financial outlook,” Jill added. “With exponentially rising costs and decreasing revenue, the board has some grim projections for the future.”

“You mentioned an MRI unit,” Erin said, lifting a cool gaze to meet Connor’s. “And a dialysis program.”

“That’s impossible,” Arnold blustered. “We don’t have the facility, we don’t have the patient base. And we sure as hell don’t have the money.”

“Most things are possible,” Erin countered. “It just depends on the level of community support, and how hard people are willing to work for it to happen.”