As she reached for the plate, the warm fire caught and reflected a sparkling gleam on her ring finger, a gleam that had been hidden in the dimness of the cabin. He stared at the diamond engagement ring—a ring much larger than the one he’d once bought her and still kept in his dresser drawer. The cup shook in his hand and coffee sloshed over the rim. He watched as she jumped and wiped at her indoor warm-up boots with her diamond-clad hand.
Eric backed away with the coffee. “God, I’m sorry. Did I burn you?”
“I’m okay. You just caught my boots.”
“Sorry,” he repeated. “I shouldn’t have poured it so full,” he managed to say.
“No harm done.” She turned her attention back to the fire, leaving him to set the cup on the table.
Soon afterward, the table was cleared and wiped. Keith went outside to add more fuel to the generator. Naomi went to the storeroom, as she had cooking detail the next day. Eric, Lindsey and the dog were alone in the cabin’s main room.
Lindsey moved from the hearth to the thick hooked rug on the floor. He noticed Ginger had slipped closer to Lindsey and seemed to be watching her as closely as he was.
“What’s her name?” Lindsey finally asked.
“Ginger. Although Naomi says her name’s gonna be RIP if she doesn’t start eating soon.”
Lindsey broke off a piece of pie crust, and silently placed it halfway between herself and the animal.
Furry golden head resting on her paws, Ginger studied the crust. Her nose twitched once, but that was all. Lindsey picked up the crust and popped it in her own mouth. The dog’s gaze took in the action without any visible response. Lindsey broke off another piece of crust, placed it somewhat closer than before, and waited. When the dog made no move toward the food, Lindsey took back the second crust and put it in her mouth, eating with casual nonchalance despite its having been on the rug.
“Is she drinking, at least?”
Eric nodded, registering true interest in Lindsey’s voice and on her face for the first time since her arrival.
“That’s good.” This time Lindsey broke off a bigger piece of crust with a chunk of apple filling. She placed the food inches away from the dog’s alert eyes and again waited a few minutes. Then she casually reached toward the pie chunk again. Ginger lifted her head and gulped the food down, her motions canine-quick. Lindsey reached for the plate of pie, and set the whole thing in front of Ginger. The dog licked the plate, next licked the pie itself, then, still lying down, she began gulping pieces of pie.
“Well. I see you haven’t lost your magical touch,” Eric said.
Lindsey shrugged. “Nothing magical about it. The dog obviously considers this fireplace area home base. She watched me sit on the hearth, then tensed when I sat on the rug. She hasn’t closed her eyes since. She’s still territorial. I figured she’d challenge me for that food sooner or later. Besides, she’s a golden.”
“Huh?”
“She hasn’t given up the ghost. Her breed adapts easily to new owners. Some, like German shepherds, don’t. That’s why retrievers are replacing shepherds as service dogs for the handicapped. They can be trained as puppies and passed on to new owners as adults with much less emotional trauma to the animal. Do you have any of that stew left?”
“Yeah.” Eric rose and hurried to the stove to scoop out Lindsey’s share of the dinner. Lindsey took the plate and set it on the rug next to the pie plate.
“Go on, Ginger,” Lindsey urged. “You had dessert. Time for the main course.” Ginger didn’t hesitate a minute. She actually rose to her feet to eat. Lindsey took the plate and lifted it onto the raised hearth so the dog would swallow less air. “No gas bloat for you, girl. Eat up. Compassionate leave is canceled. Tomorrow morning—back to work.”
Eric watched as Lindsey’s hand toyed with the long fur on Ginger’s ears. He remembered those fingers, gentle, soothing, skilled, touching him with love during their passion-filled nights.
“Naomi was right. You still have a gift with animals.”
“My father has the real gift. I learned from him. Where’s the dog food? She’s almost done with the stew.”
“I’ll get it.” Eric hurried to the dried food. He dumped a few cups of it into the empty stew pot and stirred, coating the nuggets with leftover gravy. Lindsey took the pot from him and started hand-feeding Ginger, who allowed the familiarity.
“Naomi told me you hadn’t replaced your dog.”
“Her name was Missy.”
Eric caught the edge to her voice—the first sign of emotion she’d directed his way. “I remember…. Haven’t you missed—” Working with dogs? Suddenly, what he wanted to ask stilled his tongue. Haven’t you missed working with me? Missed us together? His eyes studied the diamond on her hand.
Lindsey didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s always rough to lose a partner, two-legged or four. Sorry to hear about the loss of Eva.”
“We all are. Last week there were four of us, and now…”
Lindsey finished for him. “You’re stuck with me.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it being stuck, Lindsey,” Eric said quietly.
“If they could’ve found anyone else for a replacement… But they couldn’t, not on such short notice. I’d never have come otherwise.”
His stomach fell at that, but he refused to let it show. He glanced pointedly at her ring. “So I gathered. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“No one you know.” Lindsey stacked the cleaned dinner dish and pie plate in the empty stew pot and got to her feet. Ginger still watched her closely as Lindsey set the dishes in the kitchen sink. “I’m going outside with the dog. Where did Eva take her to relieve herself?”
“A couple hundred feet behind the summer storage sheds—not the same place you used for Missy. I imagine the dog knows the way.”
“I’m not taking any chances. Where’s her leash?”
“I—” Eric looked around. “I don’t know. Sorry.”
“Obviously you never considered this dog part of your team,” Lindsey said sharply. “But then, commitment was never your strong point, was it? Excuse me…sir.”
Lindsey and the dog headed for the glassed-in porch, leaving Eric feeling as empty inside as the unwashed stew pot.
Women’s bedroom
9:00 p.m.
LINDSEY UNPACKED THE FEW belongings she’d brought, the dog alertly watching her from a safe distance.
“I know the feeling, Ginger,” Lindsey said softly. “I don’t know what to expect from you, either. Or anyone else here, for that matter.”
Ginger’s ears perked up, but there was no responding tail thump at the sound of her voice, just as there had been no warmth in Eric’s eyes at Lindsey’s presence. The man she’d once trusted with her body, heart and soul had acted as cautiously around her as the dog had—even more so, truth be told.
“It’s not like I bite or anything,” Lindsey said. She dug into her meager pack of personal items with a stiff arm and rummaged around for her over-the-counter painkillers and muscle liniment. “If I feel this sore now, Lord help me tomorrow,” she said, easily slipping back into the long-unused habit of talking to dogs. “I hope this bed is soft, girl, because I could sure use some rest before tomorrow.”
She stripped down to her long underwear and socks, started to ease her weary body under the thermal sheets, thick blankets and down coverlet, then stopped. “I hate going to bed alone when it’s cold,