“Here?”
She almost put her hand on his arm to guide him but pulled back. Even a casual touch would be foolish. “A bit farther.”
She let out a cry of joy when light caught in two big eyes and Shep yipped a greeting. She squatted as he burst out of the brush. He leaped up and put his paws on her knees, the signal he had learned to show he was ready to assist. With a gasp, she stood and stared at the pair of paw prints on the front of her skirt.
Shep deflated as if he had been scolded.
Bending over, she patted his soaked head. “Come, Shep. Stay with us.”
He jumped to his feet, his tail wagging wildly. His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth in what was his doggy smile.
“Do you have a leash for him?” Ezra asked as she turned to walk back to the house with Shep happily trotting by her side far enough away so the rain didn’t run off the umbrella onto him. “If he ran away once, he’ll run again.”
Was he talking about the dog, or was he speaking of her, too? He’d made it clear he didn’t think she intended to stay in Paradise Springs. Pretending to take his words at face value, she said, “Shep is fine now that he has something he knows he should do.” She smiled sadly while they crossed the field back toward the house. “I need to keep him busy. He’s a service dog, not a pet.”
“You called him a service dog before. What does that mean?” He glanced at the dog and jumped back when Shep shook himself.
“Shep!” cried Mandy as she and Deborah ran from the house. “You found him! You found him!”
Leah snagged Shep’s collar before he could run up the porch stairs and get the two girls wet. She sent the girls to ask Wanda for some towels so they could dry off the dog and themselves. She didn’t want to track mud into the house.
“Old ones,” she called after them. As soon as the screen door slammed in their wake, she turned back to Ezra. “You asked what a service dog is. They are dogs trained to help people who need assistance with everyday things.”
“I’ve seen Englisch tourists with guide dogs. Usually German shepherds. What kind of service can something Shep’s size do?”
“Don’t let his size fool you. Shep is one-third heart, one-third brain, and one-third nose. After the accident, Johnny often had seizures. If he was doing something, like getting from his bed to his wheelchair, he could fall and be hurt. Shep helped by alerting us to an upcoming seizure.”
“A dog can do that?” He stepped aside when Amos came out on the porch with ragged towels.
“Heard you had a very wet dog out here.” He chuckled. “I can see the girls weren’t exaggerating.”
Taking a towel and thanking him, grateful for his acceptance of her as she’d been when he greeted her at his store as if she’d never left, Leah began drying the dog. She looked up at Ezra and said, “I didn’t believe it myself at first. The doctor told us some dogs can sense a change in a person’s odor that happens just before a seizure.” She gave Shep another rub, leaving the dog’s hair stuck up in every direction. “He let us know about Johnny’s seizures. That way, we could be sure Johnny was secure so he wouldn’t hit things when the seizures started. After we got Shep, Johnny no longer was covered with bruises.”
Ezra picked up the damp dog and rubbed his head. Shep rewarded him with a lick on the cheek.
“He likes you!” Mandy rushed out onto the porch. “Look, Aunt Leah! Esther gave me some of her date cookies. They’re yummy!” She paused, then reached into her apron pocket. “She sent some out for you, too.”
Ezra put the dog down and took the crumbling cookie she held out to him. Shep lapped up the crumbs the second they hit the ground.
“Can Deborah come over and play?” Mandy leaned into Leah and said in a whisper, “She’s my age, you know.”
“I’m sure something can be arranged soon.” Leah took a bite of her cookie and smiled. Esther clearly had learned her mamm’s skills in the kitchen. “But for now, let’s get Shep back home so we can get him dried off before he catches a cold. Guten owed, Ezra.”
“What did you say?” Mandy asked.
“Good evening. It’s time for us to go home.”
The girl yawned but shook her head. “I want another cookie.”
“Not tonight.”
“But I want another cookie.” Mandy’s lower lip struck out in the pout she had perfected with Johnny, who could never tell her no. Whether it was because he felt guilty that he was an invalid or he had never married her mamm, he had been determined to make it up to his daughter in every possible way. However, the girl should have learned by now that such antics were far less successful with Leah.
“We will come back and visit soon,” Leah said quietly.
“When?”
Aware of Ezra listening, Leah said, “Soon. Let’s go.”
Mandy grumbled something under her breath, and Leah decided it would be wise not to ask her to repeat it.
Calling to Shep to come with them, Leah turned to the porch stairs. She bit back a gasp when Ezra moved between her and the steps. He frowned at her as if she were as young as Mandy.
“Wait here,” he said in a voice that brooked no defiance.
But she retorted anyhow. “It’s late, and Mandy needs to go home so she can get some sleep.”
“You plan on walking in this downpour?”
She looked past him and saw it was raining even harder than before, though she would not have guessed that possible. Wind whipped it almost sideways. Even so, she said, “I’ll share the umbrella with Mandy. We’ll be fine.”
“You cannot handle a dog, a kind and an umbrella by yourself in this wind. Let me get the buggy, and I’ll drive you home.”
“Don’t be silly, Ezra. It is only across the field.”
“You’re not going across the field in the dark. You know that could be too dangerous. If you go by the road, it’s a quarter mile down our farm lane and a half mile along a dark road, then another quarter mile for your farm lane. That’s a mile with two squirming creatures.” He took the umbrella out of her hand. “Wait here until I get the horse hitched up.”
“Ezra—”
“Listen to gut sense, Leah. Just this once.”
Pricked by his cool words, which she knew were true—as far as he knew—she fired back, “I was going to say danki.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Repeating his order for her to wait on the porch, he strode toward the barn.
In his wake, Mandy asked, “Is he always this angry?”
“I don’t know,” she had to reply because she was realizing more each time she saw Ezra how little she knew the man he had become.
The family buggy usually felt spacious with its double rows of seats, but, tonight, it seemed too small when Ezra stepped in and picked up the reins from the dash. He flipped the switch that turned on the lamps attached to the front and back of the buggy. They were run by a battery under the backseat where Leah’s niece and his, who had begged to come along, were whispering and giggling as if they’d known each other all their lives.
No, not like that, because Leah and he had known each other all their lives, and silence had settled like a third passenger on the seat between them.
“Ready?”