“Okay, okay,” Audrey said. “Thank you, but—”
And then she started to cry.
Tink drew back, likely tasting her tears. Puzzled, he cocked his head to one side and then started making his crying sound, too.
“I’m fine,” Audrey tried to reassure him. “Or, I will be. I just don’t remember the last time anyone was this happy to see me. You’re very sweet. A little rambunctious, but sweet.”
She fluffed his pretty silvery-black fir and just sat there and soaked up all that happiness that seemed to radiate from him toward her.
Dogs loved lavishly, extravagantly, without holding anything back.
She’d forgotten that in the last few years since her family’s last dog died.
When no one else loved you, a dog still would, which Tink proved by licking her cheek some more.
“Okay.” She pushed him back gently. “This is going to be hard for you to understand, but a lot of people don’t appreciate doggy kisses, Tink. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and check out my new place, okay? We’ll find you someplace to sleep, and tomorrow we’ll go for a nice, long run.”
Twenty minutes later, all her things were in. It was quiet, peaceful even, and the little apartment was all hers. She’d never lived any place that was entirely hers, having gone from her mother’s house to a tiny apartment she’d shared with a girlfriend to Richard’s apartment, then Marion’s cottage.
She was scared but excited.
Curled up on one end of the overstuffed sofa, the dog practically in her lap, she soaked up the quiet, the comfort of the warmth and weight of the dog, and fell asleep without ever making it to her new bed.
Chapter Four
Audrey woke early to messy, doggy kisses, opened her eyes and found herself stretched out on the sofa, the dog next to her licking her face.
“Ugh,” she groaned, having slept on her side on a couch that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but just not so great on her neck.
Tink gave his little cry, then grinned at her, practically bouncing with excitement as he looked at her as if to say, You‘re still here!
Audrey sighed and looked outside to see that it was daylight, but just barely.
“I guess we might as well start our day,” she told Tink. “Give me just a minute and we’ll go running. I promise.”
He slipped off the couch and bounded for the door. She let him out so he could take care of his business, then quickly brushed her teeth, put on her sweats and running shoes and headed for the door.
Tink was waiting for her on the other side of it, grinning like crazy.
“Okay,” Audrey said. “Let’s find out what it takes to wear you out.”
He danced along beside her as she went down the stairs, nearly tripping her twice because he was staying so close, then was beside himself with excitement while she struggled to get his regular collar with the receiver for the electronic fence off and put on a leash and collar they’d use for their run.
He was really puzzled by Audrey’s stretching routine, watching every move with his head cocked to the right, then the left, as if he was trying to understand. She bent over and found him sniffing her hair and trying to lick her face, until she laughed out loud and gently pushed him away.
He came right back.
“Okay, we have a lot to work on,” she told him, mentally making a list. “First, we’re going to run.”
She took off at an easy jog, down the street that took her farther into Simon’s neighborhood, not nearly brave enough to step back into her own. It was cool but not cold with the sun shining down through the trees. They passed a few other joggers, a few other dogs.
Tink, looking as if he could run all day, was just thrilled to be out.
Audrey kept going, waiting for that feeling. People called it a runner’s high, but Audrey didn’t need a high. She wanted to get to the point where she wasn’t thinking about anything at all. To where the need to breathe—and the sound of her own heart thumping strongly, the breeze on her face and the rhythm of her feet hitting the sidewalk—was simply all there was.
It was like reaching a place in her head that no one else could get to, a place where she was perfectly safe from everything, even her own thoughts, her doubts, her fears.
Some people might call it an emptiness and not understand.
But it wasn’t. It was peace.
If she ran far enough and got tired enough, she could finally be at peace.
She found it that morning and didn’t want to let it go, so she ran some more, ran until she got a nasty cramp and had to stop. She collapsed on a bench in front of the ice cream store, Tink limping on the sidewalk at her feet, tongue lolling out, his breathing as fast as hers. Audrey grabbed her calf, groaning as she tried to stretch it without standing up, because her other leg felt like jelly. Tink roused himself enough to make it to the water dish and start lapping, making a huge mess in his enthusiasm for it.
People were starting to make it out onto the streets now. A couple of kids walking to school stopped to pet Tink. Audrey thought she saw a woman she knew from the PTA at Andie’s school but couldn’t tell for sure.
Her cramp finally easing, she stood up gingerly to test it out, see if they could continue on now, then winced as she took a few steps.
“We really outdid ourselves this morning,” she told Tink, who stretched out on the sidewalk looking as if he could happily go to sleep right where he was.
She’d worn a pedometer to keep track of their mileage but hadn’t stopped to look at it until she’d already gone too far.
“I think we’ll have to limp home,” she told the dog. “So, I hope you’re as tired as I am.”
He got wearily to his feet, as if to show that he was.
Trying not to make the muscles in her leg any madder than they already were, she moved slowly and hadn’t gone fifty feet when a car, an old Buick, pulled to the curb beside her and stopped.
A teenage boy, one of three in the car, got out.
Andie’s friend, Jake, Audrey realized.
“Mrs. Graham? Are you all right?”
“Just a cramp, Jake. We’ll be fine.”
He hesitated, then said, “You’re really living around here?”
“Yes, I am,” she said.
“You want to get in? We could make room and take you home.”
“Jake,” the driver called out. “We’ve got to get to school.”
“It’s just a few blocks. We have time,” he told his friend, then looked back at Audrey. “Really. We do.”
She suspected he wanted to talk to her more than anything else and agreed. Jake climbed into the backseat, and she got in front with the dog beside her, sitting on the floor by her feet. Jake introduced her as Andie’s mother, which had his friend, the driver, doing a double take but saying nothing. Audrey gave him directions and thanked them all for the ride.
Jake whistled as they pulled into the driveway of Simon Collier’s house. “Wow. You live here?”
“I’m working here,” Audrey told him as she got out of the car.
Jake