“My parents already love you. You have been here more times than either one of us could ever count. As for your mother, don’t worry about it. I know I’m not,” I lie. Hell yeah I’m worried about making a good impression on her mother. What man wouldn’t be? Claire’s father is gone, so I have one shot at this.
“You’re right.” She takes a deep breath, and I watch the heat drain from her cheeks. She straightens her back and squares her shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
We take a step toward the house and Milo barks. Claire stops in her tracks, her jaw dropping as Milo walks around from the back of the house.
“Oh my gosh, what is this?” she says, kneeling down, undoubtedly to look at the small rope I used to hook Milo’s leash to Duke’s.
“She kept running into things and stumbling, so I hooked her up to Duke and let him guide her around.” The contraption Rhett and I came up with has enough slack to give each dog room to move. Essentially, it’s no different that Milo being on a leash, only it’s Duke who’s walking her. “He’s her eyes. Watch this. Duke, come her
e, buddy.”
Duke might tower over Milo, but the second I hooked them together, he became hyperaware of her, walking more slowly and taking extra precautions to ensure her safety.
When Duke starts walking, so does Milo, and when he stops at my feet, she stops, too. “Sit.” Both dogs sit. Milo’s head is tilted in the air as though she’s looking up at Duke, waiting for him to make his next move.
“Trevor,” Claire breathes. “This is absolutely fantastic. I can’t believe this. She’s like a different dog. He’s her navigation.” She gives Milo a pat on the head and scratches Duke behind the ear. “I’m going to have to get another dog.”
I squat down next to Claire. “I don’t think she needs a guide all the time, but it would be nice when you take her places where she could get hurt—like Animal Haven, or if I bring her here.”
Claire gives me a teasing look. “You mean you’d want to bring my prissy dog to the ranch more often?”
“She’s not so bad,” I say, petting the dogs. “She’s got a huge personality that I’m sort of falling in love with. Kind of like her owner.”
Claire leans toward me. “That was smooth, Mr. Allen, using my handicapped dog to get to me.”
“Did it work?”
“Oh, it so worked.”
42
Trevor
“Mrs. Allen, dinner was amazing,” Claire says, leaning back in her chair. “I’m stuffed.”
Mom scoffs. “You’ve been calling me Vivian for years, dear, no sense in changing it now.”
Claire’s smile is bright. “Okay. Vivian it is.”
The dogs are all napping under the oak tree. I’ve got my arm along the back of Claire’s chair, one foot propped up on my knee, a cold beer, my family, and a beautiful girl. I’m not sure life gets much better than this. I’ve felt unsettled most of my life—first as an angry, awkward teen, then as a guilt-ridden young adult. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to this place.
Claire reaches for my plate, stacking it on top of hers. “I’ll do dishes.”
“Oh, no, dear,” Mom says. “The dishes can wait.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” Claire looks down at me and then back at my mom.
With a hand on Claire’s hip, I draw her back into the chair. “Don’t fight with her on this. You’ll lose.”
“He’s right,” Adley says, standing. “We prefer to enjoy each other’s company while we can. Cleanup can come later.”
She stacks everyone’s dishes and carries them into the house. She comes out a few minutes later with a fresh set of plates and silverware, and a pie.
“Dessert anyone?”
“I’ll take a s-s-slice,” Mo’s father says. His speech isn’t the best since his stroke, but it’s clearer every time I talk to him.
Claire’s mom, Sharon, leans forward and cuts each of them a piece.