Читать книгу From The Ashes - Sharon Mignerey - Страница 9

“He has purple hair,” Brian said, looking at the dog, who stared right back at him with dark, intelligent eyes. He had the fleeting impression that the dog was sizing him up—and that he might come up lacking.

“Disgusting, isn’t it,” Angela agreed cheerfully. “He just had a haircut, so most of it is gone. You should have seen him when he first got here. A full continental cut and purple from his head to the pom-pom on his tail.”

“So he’ll be white when the last of this is cut off?”

“Yes. His previous owner thought he was a fashion accessory, not a dog.” Angela came to stand next to Brian, the top of her head just at his shoulder. “Imagine how humiliating it would be to be dyed purple so you go with an outfit, then taken to a function where you’re supposed to act like a stuffed dog.”

“Sounds bad.”

The dog appeared to wink, which made Brian grin, though he still couldn’t believe that Angela saw him with this particular dog.

“It gets worse,” Angela assured him. “This was an outdoor affair, a fashion show. There was a close-by bolt of lightning and a huge crack of thunder. Jasper’s owner screamed and dropped his leash. Rain started falling in buckets, and Jasper, exercising good sense, headed for the nearest shelter—the buffet table.”

“That couldn’t have been good.”

“It wasn’t,” Angela said, glancing at him. “The hero of our sad tale—”

Unable to resist, Brian teased, “Would that be tail with an i or—”

Grinning, Angela nudged him with her elbow. “Be good.”

“The buffet table,” Brian prompted, imagining the event. White tablecloths and a gallery of who’s who all dressed in their Vogue and GQ finest.

“Jasper caught the tablecloth in his crown.” Catching his glance once more, Angela held up a hand. “Don’t ask me why he was wearing a crown. I don’t know. But when everyone started shouting, he ran. Or tried to.”

Jasper winked again, and Brian patted the top of his head.

“Evidently embarrassment and being expected to pay for thousands of dollars of seafood delicacies were too much for his owner. She had him taken to the pound with orders that he be put down.”

“You’re kidding.” Brian’s heart fell, the story going from funny to heartbreaking in an instant. He admitted the story put the dog in a different league. He still couldn’t imagine Jasper as the dog for him. “How do you know all this?”

“A friend who was there told me about it. In fact, she was the one who told me he was in the pound. Unfortunately, it took us almost six weeks to get him out. He’s been here five months now.”

Brian felt sympathy for the dog and couldn’t resist scratching his ears, the fur surprisingly soft.

“He’s the smartest dog I’ve ever worked with,” Angela continued.

“You should be the star of your own show,” Brian said to the dog. “For putting up with bad hair days and people who don’t understand.” He glanced at Angela. “I’m sure he’s great, but I don’t quite see myself with a poodle.”

“He’s an athlete,” she countered. “He’d go jogging with you.”

How could she know jogging was important to him and that he’d been wondering how he could continue after his sight was gone? “I think a golden retriever or a German shepherd—”

“Did you know that poodles were originally used for hunting?” She waited until Brian looked from the dog to her. “Or that in Russia they were used to haul milk carts? These dogs were first bred to be working dogs. He may look fragile, but he’s not.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course.” She looked away, then back at him. “This whole process of having you involved in the training is unorthodox and unproven. Decades of experience from other training facilities have owners coming to the dogs only after they’ve completed their training. Bottom line, there’s a good chance this might not work.”

“You’re not going to talk me out of this,” Brian said, “even if I’m not sure the poodle is the right dog for me.”

“From the beginning of the process to turning over a fully trained dog is a huge investment of time and effort. The dogs that are specifically bred for use as guide dogs are earmarked for the training facilities they are contracted with. It could be a long time before I have access to another dog who is as good as Jasper.” When she met his gaze, her beautiful eyes were serious.

“I understand.” Brian stared down at her, liking her conviction and her passion for her work. She was close enough he didn’t have to compensate for his peripheral vision being completely gone. This close, he could see a fine blue vein beneath her skin at her temple and varying shades of brown in her luminous eyes. She stared back at him, the attraction shimmering between them. With effort, he reclaimed the thread of what he needed to say to her. “Whatever releases you need that absolve you from any liability, I’ll sign them.”

She waved a hand. “I wasn’t thinking about that.” She looked back at Jasper. “I was thinking about the dog. You have weeks to months before your vision is…”

“Gone?” Brian finally prompted.

“An uncertain amount of time,” she qualified. “For every guide dog we’ve trained, we’ve assessed dozens that didn’t make the grade.” She met his gaze square on, all businesslike again, making him wonder if he had imagined that instant of mutual interest.

“So the poodle is the dog you think I should have?”

“His name is Jasper. And yes, he’d be a good dog for you.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

She looked away for a moment, and surprised him once more by smiling when she turned back to him. “When it comes to the dogs, yes.”

The storm door at the back of the house slammed, drawing Brian’s attention. When he looked toward the sound, he became acutely aware once more of just how much his field of vision had shrunk in the past month, reminding him that he didn’t have a lot of time left before his sight was gone completely.

“Angela,” Maisey called, coming toward them.

She wasn’t alone. The guy Angela had been talking to yesterday was with her, a smug smile on his face as he strolled along, his hands in his pockets. Angela was in the fog that had once been Brian’s peripheral vision, so he had to turn his head until he could see her. There was a glint of anger in her eyes.

Interesting. It wasn’t the look of a woman happy to see a boyfriend, and yesterday Brian had been sure that’s exactly who this guy was. Something eased in his chest, a feeling of joy he hadn’t even been aware of. In that split second he realized his interest in Angela went beyond the simple appreciation of an alluring and intriguing woman…and the timing couldn’t have been worse.

“I told you yesterday that I didn’t want to see you again,” Angela said, focusing on the man.

Maisey’s smile vanished as she came to a halt. “Who are you?”

“This—” Angela took a breath, waving a hand “—is Tommy Manderoll.”

“Oh.” Maisey turned an accusing look on Tommy. “You’re the one who left all those messages.”

Brian wondered at the wealth of meaning in Maisey’s voice as she put her hands on her waist and leveled a schoolteacher’s frown at Tommy.

Angela’s gaze went from Tommy to Maisey, then met Brian’s. Her expression was neutral enough, but the furious glint was still there. “Excuse me a moment,” she said to him. “Maisey, maybe you could talk to Brian a little about our training protocols.”

“Sure.”

Angela pointed a finger at Tommy. “You come with me.”

He grinned. “Just what I was hoping for.”

Shaking with annoyance, Angela headed toward the office, contemplating how to best get rid of him. She didn’t want him coming around, didn’t want him involved in her life in any way at all. She mentally counted to ten, reminding herself of her life now, her happiness, and her personal determination to live up to Maisey’s and Reverend Chester’s faith in her—and her newfound faith in herself.

She stopped a few feet away from the door and turned on Tommy, hating the twisting knots of old, familiar, hated cravings that threatened everything.

“I was very clear yesterday,” she said. “I don’t want anything to do with you. Whatever you’re involved with, I don’t want any part of it.”

“You weren’t always so uptight.”

She made a shooing motion toward the parking lot at the side of the house. “Just go or I’ll call the po—”

“Who?” he taunted. “The police? I don’t think so.” He folded his fingers against his palm, then fanned them out like a magician, a small white packet appearing between his fingers. “I have what you want.”

She recognized what it was, and her heart lurched. Just the sight of it made her nerves dance. One part of her longed to reach for the cocaine even as memory after memory washed over her at the terrible things she had done in exchange for those fleeting moments of euphoria. Her mouth dried as she wiped her suddenly sweaty palms against her jeans.

“You know it.” He smiled, drawing her attention back to his face. “And I know it.”

“Go away, Tommy.” Her voice was pleading instead of commanding, and she hated herself for it.

He looked toward the yard, and Angela followed his gaze. Brian was smiling at something Maisey had said, Maisey’s posture animated the way it got when she talked about training dogs. The woman meant everything to Angela, as much as Reverend Chester and her life-long friend, Rachel McLeod. Angela looked back at Tommy, a living reminder of the mountain of regret she felt for the dreadful things she had done.

“Take your drugs and your innuendos and go.” She was proud of the firm tone in her voice. “As for calling the police, you can bet I will.”

“This is me you’re talking to, doll face.” Tommy waved toward the dogs. “Don’t make threats you’ll never follow up on. Do you honestly think a convicted felon can withstand the kind of scrutiny that will come your way? It’s one thing to talk to a chamber of commerce and solicit a few puny donations for a good cause. But what about when a reporter comes around and does an in-depth story and discovers the truth about you?” He nodded toward Brian. “He’s here to donate to your little charity, I bet.”

“What if he is?” she challenged, thankful Tommy didn’t know the real reason behind Brian’s visit.

“I’ll make you a deal, and before you go shaking your head at me, you might want to know the terms.”

“There’s nothing you can possibly say—”

“Maybe you put the half million dollars into this business, so you’re a little short of cash—that means you have equity and you can get it. I need a stake—”

“A patsy,” Angela said, remembering that he had somehow convinced her to take out a loan against Victorian Rose Antiques, the business she and her best friend, Rachel, had owned. Angela rationalized that she hadn’t known until later he had used the money to buy a kilo of cocaine…but deep in her heart she had, and she’d had the drug-induced conviction that she could make everything work out. She’d been wrong.

“And you have the money—don’t even bother denying it because I don’t believe you.” He glanced toward Maisey and Brian, then back at her. “Get it, and I won’t dig up every piece of dirt that I can find on your famous new boyfriend. You know how the media just loves a juicy story.” He motioned as though reading a headline. “The Football Player and the Felon.” Tommy pressed the small packet into the pocket of her denim shirt. “Something to help you think.”

He turned away then, walking around the side of the house toward his car with that I-own-the-world bounce in his step. In her pocket, the packet of cocaine—she knew that’s what it was, could smell it though it had no discernible odor—whispered seductively to her.

She looked back toward Brian and Maisey. He was listening attentively, his fingers absently petting Jasper each time the dog butted his head against his palm. Angela watched them a moment longer, then went into the office where she sat down at her desk, despair wrapping its claws around her throat. She took the packet out of her pocket, her thoughts chaotic, her fingers trembling.

With the bottomless pit where she’d once been firmly in mind, she marched into the bathroom and flushed the packet down the toilet. Then she washed her hands, feeling as dirty as she had the day she was arrested.

Going back into the office, she sat down at the desk, placing her hands flat on the blotter. To her dismay, they were trembling.

With that, she picked up the receiver of the phone and dialed the number of her lifeline. “It’s me, Angela,” she said after the familiar voice of Reverend Chester Holt said hello.

“How are you?” he asked.

Relief washed over her, and she sank back into the chair. “I’m good.” He wouldn’t let her get away with that for long, she knew, but for now just having the conversation with the man who’d been more like a father to her was enough. “I just wanted to hear your voice. How are Sarah and Andy—growing, I bet. And Rachel—”

“Hungry for news, are you?” he said around a laugh.

“You know it.”

Wrapping the receiver cord around her finger, she felt the tension fall away while Reverend Holt told her about Sarah’s and Andy’s latest escapades and about the big celebration they’d had when Rachel’s new husband, Micah, adopted them. They were all happy and doing well. For that, Angela was thankful. She and Rachel still weren’t speaking, and Angela couldn’t blame her. Still, she longed to make up with her old friend, wanted it with all her heart, and knew that even though she had tried before, she hadn’t tried hard enough. The next step was up to her.

Despite the rift between herself and Rachel, Reverend Chester had remained steadfast, visiting her every couple of weeks while she had been in prison, and providing guidance that had helped her grow into the person she was meant to be.

“Now tell me about you,” Reverend Chester said.

“I’m fine.”

“Angela, girl, that’s the answer you give this old man when you’re anything but fine.”

That fast, the tension was back.

“The truth…” Her voice trailed away, and she dropped her head, tucking the receiver between her neck and chin, pressing her fingers against her eyes.

The silence stretched painfully, and she knew he’d wait with all the patience in the world without saying a word until she did.

“I’m scared, Rev,” she whispered.

“Ah,” he said, his voice comforting with that single word. “Your faith is a little shaky today, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about the dogs,” he said.

The abrupt change in topic was usual for him, and she’d been through the process often enough to know that she’d be rewarded with some insight. She focused her narrative on Checkers, who would soon go home with deaf, eighty-year-old Greg Proudie. The man’s wife had died about a year ago and his son had introduced the idea of a service dog. The dog was a perfect fit for Proudie, and Angela was proud of the work they had done.

“He’s going to be great with his new owner,” she concluded, “who is participating in the last of his training.”

“How do you know he’s going to be great?” Reverend Chester asked.

“I just know—”

“You have faith.”

“Of course.”

“No fear?”

“Fear?” So there was the point he wanted to make. Her gaze went to the window where sunlight streamed in.

“Faith is harder to keep in focus when you’re afraid,” he said. “Faith is knowing, the way you know the dog you’re telling me about will do well. Fear is letting the unknown consume you.” He paused. “And you know the pathway to faith, Angela.”

“Prayer,” she breathed. He was right, of course. An obvious reminder she needed.

“That’s right. And you know you’re in mine.”

The door to the training yard opened accompanied by Brian’s and Maisey’s voices.

“Thanks for taking the time to talk,” Angela said, looking toward the hallway where they were walking toward her. “I have my bearings back.”

“You hadn’t really lost them,” Reverend Chester said. “Stay in touch.”

Angela said goodbye and disconnected the call.

“Here you are,” Maisey said after Angela hung up the phone. “You got rid of that Tommy person?”

“For now.” Angela suspected he would be back, just like the bad penny he was. She had to figure out what to do about that.

“Brian has decided to follow your recommendation about Jasper and wants to know when you guys can get started.” Maisey looked from her to Brian. “And I told him right away.”

Good news…if it weren’t for Tommy’s threat to dig up dirt on Brian. And since Brian had confessed to her about reaping the rewards of his sins, she had the feeling working with him would be opening up Pandora’s box. But since she’d already agreed, how could she turn him away?