A K-9 Christmas Reunion
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Lisa Carter
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Chapter One
Running behind schedule had become the story of Nate Crenshaw’s life.
From the start, his day—like most of his days since his wife died two years ago—had gone heels over head. First, he discovered the downed section of fence. The cattle had escaped from the grazing pasture into his neighbor’s property.
He spent the morning rounding up the cattle into a temporary holding pen, but he didn’t have enough materials to properly secure the breach in the fence. Which meant driving into town to acquire the necessary wire from the agri-supply store.
With each tick of the clock, today’s to-do list faded further out of reach. Tires kicking up a cloud of dust, he steered around the bend of trees on the graveled drive of the High Country Ranch. Barreling under the crossbars, he took the secondary road leading over the mountain to his hometown of Truelove, North Carolina.
The blistering heat of summer had long since given way to the crisp coolness of mid-November. The blaze of autumn color, for which the Blue Ridge was famous, now carpeted the forest floor. The hardwood trees lifted stark, bare branches to the Carolina blue sky.
With his father having one of his good days, when Nate returned with his supplies, he didn’t stop to check on his dad. He gathered his tools from the barn and headed to the pasture on the far edge of the ranch to make the repairs. He’d have to hurry to make the appointment the agency had set up for him and his dad.
It was important the meeting go well. Their future depended on how well his father took to the new, specially trained dementia service dog. As soon as his dad had gotten his diagnosis, Nate had put him on the list to receive a dog. They’d waited almost eighteen months for this day to arrive.
With his father in the early stages of the disease, this was the optimal time to pair him with a service animal. Nate had high hopes the dog trained by Juliet Melbourne’s canine agency, PawPals, would make a real difference in alleviating some of the worst symptoms of his dad’s heartbreaking and progressive illness.
Clearing his mind of everything else, Nate got to work. By the time he finished, his head was pounding. He probably shouldn’t have skipped lunch. When he looked up from the wire he’d strung, the sun sat much lower on the horizon. The repairs had taken longer than he’d anticipated.
He took a deep breath of the tangy scent of evergreens lining the perimeter of the pasture. He loved ranching. He’d never wanted to live anywhere else or do anything else.
Not exactly true. He frowned. There’d been a brief time, long ago, when he’d believed he wanted something quite different in a place far from here.
A temporary insanity from which life—and a particular girl—had soon disabused him. This was his life now, and he loved it. Except when the loneliness got to him.
Bone weary, he put his tools and what was left of the wire roll into the back of his pickup. He climbed behind the wheel. Scrubbing his forehead, he willed the headache to subside. These days, he stayed tired. It had been a while since Dad had been able to help on the farm.
Cranking the engine, Nate jostled down the rutted path toward the barn. The boys would be wondering where he was. He liked to be there when they got home from school. Yet despite how hard he tried, he’d failed them once again.
Not for the first time, he thought how much better Deanna would have coped as a single parent. But she was the one who died, and he was the one left to pick up the pieces of an unimaginable future spent without her.
Holding the leash of a medium-sized, sable-colored rough collie, a woman with indistinct features emerged from the shadows cast by the barn.
Gut churning, he suddenly realized he was late for the appointment with the trainer from PawPals. He braked sharply, sending gravel spinning. The woman jerked.
Nate threw himself out of the vehicle. Way to make a terrible first impression, Crenshaw.
He hoped his dad had stepped into the gap due to his lack of hospitality. The boys had been looking forward to the dog coming to live with them. Probably lively five-year-old Kody and seven-year-old Connor had more than made up for his absence and provided a most cordial welcome.
From a distance, his first impressions of the dog trainer were of her even, pleasing features. She was pretty in an outdoorsy way. Compared to his six-foot height, she wasn’t tall. Maybe only five foot five. Casually dressed in jeans, brown ankle boots and an oversize beige sweater, she wore her hair in a pale golden braid, which hung over her shoulder.
Tromping across the yard to meet her, he raised his hand. The dog yipped a greeting. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Ms. Spencer. I meant to be here to greet you, but the time got away from me.”
She stepped out of the shadows and into the slanted light of the sun. A slight breeze fluttered the blue silk ribbon tied around the end of her braid. Once upon a lifetime ago, he’d known a girl who wore her hair the same way.
Hand outstretched, he got his first glimpse of her face. A face that teased at the edges of his memory. “Welcome to—”
The pieces of an all-too-familiar puzzle clicked into place. His heart skipping a beat, he came to a complete halt.
“Gemma?” He blinked at her. “Gemma Anderson?” Dropping his hand, he went rigid. “You’re the dog trainer Juliet sent?”
She stiffened. “It’s Spencer now. And yes, I’m here to help your father bond with Rascal.”
He flicked a look at the collie sitting quietly at her feet. “Rascal?”
The dog cocked his head.
She flipped the end of her braid over her shoulder. “It suited him in an entirely endearing way.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing. This isn’t going to work out.”
Gemma’s heart skipped a beat. “You can’t be serious?”
Rascal rubbed his nose against her hand. The collie always sensed when his humans needed emotional support. It was this sensitivity that made him such a great service dog.
Nathan’s blue eyes glinted. “I’ve never been more serious.”
She threw out her hands. “But why?”
He lifted his Stetson off his head and placed it again on top of his short, dark hair. “I think you know why.”
As seventeen-year-olds, they’d met as 4-H camp counselors. During that unforgettable summer, they fell in love.
“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me,” she rasped.
When the summer ended, they vowed to love each other forever. But after she returned to her home near Greensboro in the Piedmont, her world fell apart.
She immediately ended her budding relationship with him, stopped answering his letters and refused to take his phone calls. Later, she’d heard through the 4-H grapevine, he and a former girlfriend got married.
“No one ever forgets their first love.” He threw her a piercing look. “Nor the Dear John left in my voicemail the very next day.”
Because the next day after she returned home, her mother was dead and her father in prison. The shame had been too much. Recalling that terrible day brought only darkness. A downward spiral into an abyss she’d barely managed to survive.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—go back to that time in her life. Better for him to believe her coldhearted than to ever learn the truth. With an effort, she steadied her rioting emotions.
“That was a long time ago. Today I’m here to help your dad.” She raised her chin. “The program would be a godsend for your father. A dementia service dog could potentially extend his independence several years beyond what most patients with his condition experience. Rascal will also help you and your wife shoulder the day-to-day burden of caring for him.”
His ruggedly handsome features creased. “My wife is dead. It’s only me, the boys and Dad.”
She reared a fraction. She hadn’t realized he was a widower. She’d assumed... Wrongly as it turned out.
“I’m sorry.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you know?” He peered at the evergreen-studded mountain range that enfolded the ranch like the worn but comforting arms of a beloved grandmother. “I haven’t heard from you in fifteen years.” His gaze locked onto hers.
She flushed. “There were reasons...”
His eyebrow arched.
She could feel the heat creeping up her neck. “Reasons I’d rather not discuss.”
Nathan’s lips—such a handsome mouth—tightened. “Look, I don’t want to cause problems for you with your boss. I’ll tell Juliet we weren’t a good fit. And request a different trainer to acclimate my father to Rascal.”
Hearing his name, the collie woofed.
For a split second, Nathan’s tense features relaxed. A tentative smile lurked at the corners of his lips. Like her, he’d always loved dogs, but too soon a weight settled upon his countenance once more.
Her heart fluttered against her rib cage at the brief glimpse of the warm-hearted teenager she’d loved so deeply. Judging from his broad shoulders, Nathan the man had fulfilled the physical potential of the adolescent she’d known. Otherwise, probably little remained of the boy she recalled. Little enough remained of the girl she’d been.
Life had a way of doing that. After their glorious summer together, she’d had to grow up fast. But Gemma wasn’t ready to give up on the PawPals program, which she and her best friend, Juliet, had piloted.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.” She glanced at her dog. “Stay.” Dropping the leash, she moved closer to the thirty-two-year-old rancher.
“There are only a few facilities in the nation that train dementia assistance canines. And there are even less trainers than there are dogs. Without me, there can be no service dog for your father. He’ll lose his place on the waiting list to another family in desperate need of help.” She pursed her lips. “By the time another dog and trainer become available—”
“Another eighteen months?”
She nodded. “Possibly two years. At which point, your father might no longer benefit from the program.”
A bleakness clouded his gaze. “You mean he could have slipped too far from us?”
Her heart pinged inside her chest. “Dementia companion dogs typically make the biggest difference with patients in the early-to mid-stages of dementia. After that...” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“You and Rascal are a package deal.” He scoured his face with his hand. “Got it.”
“The training only lasts a few weeks. Just until your father is comfortable with Rascal. Just until I’m sure Rascal has bonded to him, and we establish a routine.”
“What kind of routine?”
She smiled. “You’ll be amazed at what Rascal can do for your father, once I identify what would be of most help to your dad. In the application, you mentioned sundowner events. Late in the day confusion and sleep issues are fairly typical of a patient with your father’s illness. Once attuned to your dad, Rascal will be able to reduce the severity of the agitation your father experiences and sometimes divert an episode altogether.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Those episodes are the worst. Upsetting not only for my dad, but the boys, too. They don’t understand why their granddad suddenly...” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
She put her hand on the sleeve of his tan Carhartt jacket. “If you’ll give me the chance to work with your father, I believe Rascal could enrich all your lives.”
He searched her face.
Not entirely sure why this mattered so much, she held her breath. There were lots of other families in need of Rascal’s services. If he sent her away, she and Rascal would become a blessing to someone else.
She tilted her head. “Surely you can put up with me for two weeks?”
For a second, something she couldn’t decipher flitted across his features. A muscle ticked in his square-lined jaw. She let go of his arm. Touching him had been a mistake.
She prided herself on her professionalism, but Nathan Crenshaw was far from being just another client. For a multitude of reasons, she’d sensed seeing him would be hard, and she’d steeled herself for the upcoming training. Yet being with him again... The intensity of feeling was far more than she’d anticipated.
Rattled, she preferred not to examine too closely why she so badly wanted this to work out for him. She wanted the dogs she trained to work out for every family. What she was feeling was probably nothing more than the emotional equivalent of an aftershock. What else could it be?
“My father’s happiness and well-being are the only things that matter.” He touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “We’ll give it a try.”
A shaft of sheer joy pierced her heart.
She threw Nate a dazzling smile. “You won’t be sorry.”
Bits of the Gemma he’d fallen in love with that long ago summer sparkled in her soft brown eyes.
To his ultimate heartbreak, he’d discovered she wasn’t the girl he’d believed her to be. But according to the credentials Juliet Melbourne forwarded, prior to specializing in the training and placement of dementia service dogs, Gemma Spencer had an extensive résumé of working with patients in memory-care facilities. The program at PawPals provided families an at-home care option for their loved ones.
He didn’t delude himself about what his father’s future would hold. Nate had done his research. Diagnosed in his late sixties, his dad could live for many more years.
The progressive disease, this most terrible of illnesses, would eventually rob Ike Crenshaw of everything that made him who he was. If his dad lived long enough, one day permanent placement in a care facility would become a necessary reality.
But if Rascal could truly improve his father’s quality of life... Nate would be a fool to turn down this opportunity.
His sons had already lost so much. He needed to do everything in his power to ensure their granddad was there for them—in every sense of the word—for as long as possible.
Nate wasn’t a lovesick teenager anymore. He was an adult. A son and a father in his own right. A privilege and a responsibility he didn’t take lightly.
He’d find a way to work with Gemma. Yet forewarned was forearmed. She’d proved she couldn’t be trusted. It would be best to keep her at arm’s length.
Leash in hand, she walked the service dog forward. “Rascal, meet Nathan. Nathan, this is Rascal.”
Something bittersweet pinged inside his chest. He’d forgotten she always used his full given name. She was the only one who ever had.
Rascal lifted a paw and placed it atop Nate’s hand.
“Go ahead. Shake his paw. He’s waiting for you.” She smiled at him in such a winsome way, for a moment his earlier resolve wavered.
Arm’s length might prove easier said than done. He gave the collie’s paw a tentative shake. Rascal dropped his paw to the ground, and brushed his head against Nate’s leg.
“If you rub the spot below his ears, he’ll love you fur-ever.” She winked. “Get it? Fur-ever?”
Despite his intention to remain aloof, his lips twitched. He’d also forgotten how she used to make him laugh. Usually at the lamest, silliest things.
It was reassuring to know something of the girl he’d once fallen for so hard still remained in the coolly sophisticated woman standing in front of him.
He stroked the dog’s fluffy fur. “It’s great to finally meet you, Rascal.”
The collie licked his hand.
He smiled. “Rascal seems like an extraordinary dog. I’m surprised you’re willing to let him go.”
“Rascal is special. And believe me, I’ve trained a lot of service dogs over the years.” Her smile became strained. “But it’s because of his specialness I’m able to let go. Rascal will make such a significant difference to your family.”
Nate stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “How did Dad respond to Rascal?”
Her forehead puckered. “What do you mean?”
“Earlier, when Dad and the boys met Rascal.”
She shook her head. “When we arrived, nobody answered the door. That’s why we were in the barn looking for you.”
“Nobody’s home?” He stared at her. “That can’t be right. I don’t understand.”
His eyes drifted to the sprawling white clapboard farmhouse. But the home he shared with his father and sons lay dark and shuttered. He glanced at his wristwatch. Five o’clock.
She wrapped the leash around her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s my dad?” A sick feeling coiled in his gut. “By now, the boys should’ve been home from school, too.”
Like every other afternoon since school started in September, his second cousin Maggie brought his sons home when she picked up her own children. Where were Connor and Kody?
His gaze darted to the sky, swathed in swirls of golden pinks and apricots. But there was no time to appreciate the sunset. Once the sun slid below the ridge on the horizon, darkness would descend rapidly.
Breathing heavily, he dug his phone out of his jean pocket. His eyes widened.
While mending the fence in the back pasture, he’d missed a half-dozen phone calls. In rural areas outside town, cell reception was notoriously spotty.
Chest heaving, he scrolled through the calls. The school had called four times. Maggie had left three messages for him to call back ASAP.
What had happened? What was going on? Panicked, he hit Redial on the school number. Had there been an accident at school? Had his father taken the call and gone to the hospital to be with them?
His call to the school went unanswered. Everyone must have gone home for the evening. Frustrated, he disconnected.
“Would your dad have left a note?”
Cell pressed to his ear, he hurried toward the house. She kept pace with him. Rascal loped alongside.
Beyond the curve in the drive around the cluster of trees, he heard the sound of an engine.
Nate released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Finally.”
His relief was short-lived.
It wasn’t Maggie’s hunter green Outback or his dad’s bronze GMC. Instead, a white cruiser, belonging to Truelove’s chief of police, rounded the bend.
Fear robbing the oxygen from his lungs, Nate raced forward.
