“Been what?” I asked, peeking through my fingers at him. He was chewing his lip. His thumb was also absently stroking my hip where he held me close. I let him stroke. It was soothing.
“Moping, I guess. Julie and I were together so long, almost everything I did was as part of a couple. And alone, it’s just . . . I don’t know.”
“I know what you mean,” I offered. “I miss certain things—not just with Charles, but just . . .”
“Having someone else there?”
“Yeah.” I sighed, leaning against him. He smelled so very good. Equal parts pine and salt air and a hint of sunscreen. Beach rat.
“So I was thinking, let’s just hang out a bit. Run around town, drive up the coast, go do some stuff. How much time have you spent exploring Monterey?”
“Zero,” I admitted. “I’ve been so busy, which is a good thing.”
“It is a good thing, but this is a fantastic town and you should see it.”
“Nights and weekends, huh?”
“Nights and weekends. I’ve been bored out of my mind, and it’ll be nice to hang out with someone again.”
“Just hanging out, right? That’s it?” I asked.
His eyes darkened slightly. “That’s it.”
But there was an undercurrent now, something intangible in the air. He knew it, I knew it, but we were both going to ignore it. Because . . .
“Because it’s just . . . it’s too soon . . . you know?” I said, and he nodded.
“I get it,” he replied, and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I actually do.”
And so we sat, in the sunshine on the floor of the barn, until it moved on. Just me and my kryptonite. Who’d be filling my nights and weekends.
Mm-hmm.
chapter seven
Turns out that nights and weekends had to wait a bit, as I had work to do out of town. I spent a few days at Our Gang in Long Beach, working with Lou and his team on the day-to-day operations of running an organization like this. The amount of fund-raising required was astonishing; just the phone calls to sympathetic ears was staggering. As a satellite operation we received funding mostly through the mother ship, but I’d be responsible for doing some of my own outreach in Monterey. I was already thinking of ways I could not only generate donations, but get the community involved with the placement of the animals by partnering with the local scout troops.
And I got to spend time with the dogs at Our Gang Long Beach. I learned how to socialize the newer dogs, how to work one-on-one with those that came out of more aggressive households, and how to approach a dog that wasn’t used to humans who were actually kind. So many of these animals had been mistreated, tied up, left alone on chains in empty lots and backyards, they’d never known that anyone cared about them.
But when they realized that someone did care, and someone would let them just be dogs again, to run and jump and play, they could have the same personality that anyone would want in a family pet. Friendly, eager to please, and loving, they’d run with you all day and sleep by your side all night. And that was the image I was taking back with me to Monterey; that was the image I was determined to show anyone who questioned why we were running a rescue for these amazing creatures.
When I got back from my training, I was floating high above the clouds and eager to get our operation open for business. And I came back to a place nearly ready to do just that. I was amazed at how much work had been done; we were in the homestretch. I walked the grounds with the head contractor, checking out the final punch list of things to be completed, but it was pretty close.
After everyone left for the day, I was out on the patio, working on my to-do list, when my cousin Clark called. Smiling, I answered the phone.
“What’s up, mister?”
“Hey, how’s my favorite cousin?”
“Good! Just got back in town, trying to get things finished up around here so we can start taking in some dogs. What’s up with you?” I asked, still working on my list. Get a hose for watering bowls: check. Tennis racket for exercising with balls: check.
“Not much, I just have some news.” His voice sounded different, a little high pitched and breathless, and I looked up from my list.
“Oh?” I asked, setting my pencil down. Something was up.
“Remember the pickles? How Vivian was craving them?”
“No,” I breathed, putting two and two together and coming up with pickles. “No way,” I squealed.
“Vivian’s pregnant,” he said, his laughter ringing out across the line. “She’s pregnant! I’m having a baby! Well, she’s having a baby, we’re having a baby! Can you believe it? Ha!”