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“That’s a shame. You need to come to my house one evening. I love to cook when I have the time.”
“What keeps you so busy you can’t cook very often?” Jake asked, resolved to stay away from any topic about him as he began emptying the sacks on the countertop. Focus on her. A much safer subject to discuss.
“Training dogs, working a full-time job at the animal hospital and trying to raise a child who’s giving me fits.”
“Things aren’t any better?”
“No. The Cold War has been declared at my house. He didn’t appreciate my talking to his teacher.”
Jake whistled. “Yep, that will do it.”
“Are you taking his side? Are you saying I shouldn’t have talked with his teacher about his being bullied?”
Jake threw up his hands, palms outward. “Hold it right there. I am not taking anyone’s side. That’s between you and your son.”
“I could use your help with this situation.”
He scanned the room, looking for a way out of the kitchen and this conversation. He didn’t want to be in the middle between a mother and son. “I don’t know the boys who ganged up on Josh.”
“But you saw them. Can you describe the culprits? Even one of them?”
“Maybe the smallest kid. Brown hair, brown eyes.”
“Good. Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?”
“Yes, but...” Staring at the determination in Emma’s expression, he realized the quickest way to get rid of her was to give her what she wanted—at least the little he knew. He crossed to the desk under the wall phone and withdrew the items requested.
Emma took them. “I love to draw. If you tell me what he looks like, I’ll try to sketch a portrait of him. Brown hair and eyes as well as a small frame fit a lot of kids in Cimarron City. So let’s start with what shape his face is—oval, oblong, heart shaped? Is his jaw square, pointy, round?”
Staring at the dog sitting near the back door, Jake rubbed his day-old beard stubble. He’d forgotten to shave this morning. He was doing that more lately. When he glanced down at his attire, he winced at the shabby T-shirt and jeans with several holes in them. If someone who didn’t know him walked in right now, that person would think Jake was close to living on the street. Suddenly he saw himself through Emma’s eyes. And he didn’t like the picture.
The military had taught him always to be prepared and to keep himself presentable. Lately he’d forgotten his training. The least he could do was change clothing. He wouldn’t shave because her visit was impromptu, and he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression—that he cared. He knew better than to care, not with the upheaval in his life.
“Your visit has taken me by surprise. I’ll be back in a minute.” He gestured to the kitchen. “Make yourself at home. I have a large, fenced backyard if you want to put your pet outside. A big dog like that probably requires a lot of exercise.” He wanted to add: I won’t hurt you. I’m only hurting myself.
“That’s great.”
As she walked to the back door, Jake slipped out of the kitchen and hurried to his bedroom. He felt encouraged she wasn’t afraid of him since she was putting her German shepherd outside. Somehow he would beat what he was going through...but he didn’t think he could by the time of the medal ceremony on Veterans Day.
After rummaging in his closet for something nicer to wear, he began to change. He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door and froze. He didn’t know the man staring back at him in the reflection. He sank onto his bed and plowed his fingers through his unruly hair.
I just want some hope, Lord.
Chapter Three
Jake hadn’t kicked her out of his house yet. That was a good sign. Emma knew how much control meant to him right now because Ben had gone through a period where he tried to manage everything around him. He needed to know what was going to happen next. The trouble was life wasn’t predictable, and that was where Ben had problems. He’d lost his patience and laid-back attitude, but in the past nine months he was getting them back. He was realizing finally that God was the one in control and He was always there to help him through. Did Jake believe in God?
After letting Shep out into Jake’s backyard, Emma glanced around the neat kitchen, an olive-green-and-gold decor—no doubt his grandmother’s touch when she lived in the house. She’d asked Marcella Kime, who went to her church, about Jake and this place. His grandmother had lived here until she died last year. The family hadn’t sold it yet, so Jake must have decided to move in.
One sack of groceries was left on the counter. While she waited for Jake to return, she emptied the bag of food, then prowled the room. Maybe he skipped out the front door. When she heard a bark at the back one, she let Shep into the house.
She knelt and rubbed her hands along his thick black and brown fur. “I think the man is trying to send me a message,” she whispered near the German shepherd’s ear. “He doesn’t know yet that I’m relentless when on a mission. He needs help and you. He’s the reason Ben is alive. I owe Jake.”
She nuzzled Shep, relishing the calmness that came from loving on the dog. In her house, there was always a dog she was training. With her full-time job, bringing a trainee home helped her to be around more if her son needed her. But the animal would eventually move on to another person. She’d found it easier not to have her own dog in case there were territorial issues when a new canine came for training. But maybe one day....
“Did he decide not to stay outside?”
Jake’s question startled her, and she gasped. She swiveled around. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry. I’ve learned to move quietly.”
Emma straightened. “My husband made enough noise to alert the neighbors. Josh is just like his dad.”
“What happened to your husband?”
“He died three years ago. He had epilepsy. It got worse over the years, and then he had a seizure he never recovered from.” While on a ladder putting up Christmas lights because she had mentioned she wanted some. She’d intended for the teen next door to do the chore—not Sam. Guilt nibbled at her composure, and she shut it down. She was here to help Jake and possibly get some information concerning the kids bullying Josh.
“I’m sorry.”
“Life has a way of changing and throwing you a curve when you least expect it.”
He flinched. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
For a few heartbeats her gaze connected with his, and her stomach flip-flopped. The intensity in his look weakened her knees. She grasped the countertop.
As Jake moved to put away the canned goods and boxes from the last sack, she noted his change in clothing, trying to keep her attention somewhere besides those dark, compelling eyes. He still wore jeans but without any holes and a navy blue polo shirt. She saw his actions as a good sign. He wanted to look nicer for her, and that gave her hope.
“We can go into the living room, and I’ll try to describe that last child I caught bullying Josh.”
Emma retrieved the pad and pencil. “I appreciate it. I’m not sure what I’ll do when I find out who the bullies are, but I need to know, if for no other reason than to help my son deal with the situation.”
She went first toward the living area off the foyer. Shep walked beside her. Inside the room, she headed toward the couch. Her foot stepped on something, and she peered down. A sheet of paper—a letter? She picked it up as Jake entered. Her gaze lit upon the subject of the letter.
She swept around. “You’re being awarded the Distinguished Service Medal. Congratulations!”
Jake stiffened. A thunderous expression descended over his features. He limped toward her and plucked the letter from her hands. “No reason to congratulate me because I survived when many didn’t.”
She eased onto the couch behind her, Shep sitting at her feet, close enough that she could stroke the back of his head and neck. She looked up into Jake’s warring gaze as he skimmed the contents of the letter, then balled it up, crossed to the trash can and tossed it.
“They don’t give the Distinguished Service Medal for being wounded. That’s for serving your country above and beyond your normal duties. It’s awarded for meritorious and heroic behavior. It’s an honor you no doubt deserved.”
“How would you know?”
She winced at his reproachful tone. “Because my brother, Ben Spencer, told me what you did for him. You saved his life so I’m not surprised you’re receiving the medal, one of the highest awarded by the government.”
The color drained from his face. “You’re Ben’s sister?”
She nodded.
“How is he? I haven’t had a chance to touch base...” The words faded into the quiet. Jake stared at his clasped hands. “I meant to see how he was once I was better.”
“He’s doing all right. His injuries are healed, and he’s been coping with his PTSD. Making progress.”
Jake lifted his head and gave her a searing look. “So what I heard is true? How’s he dealing with it?”
She couldn’t have asked for a better opening to talk about Shep. Lord, give me the right words to say. This man is hurting.
“Ben has a PTSD counseling group he attends in Tulsa, but he also has a service dog I trained for him. Butch has made a big difference in Ben’s being able to go out and to participate in life without having so many panic attacks.”
His eyebrows crunched together. “He’s cured?”
“No, but the incidences he has are few, especially lately, and he’s been able to work his way through them.”
“I’m glad. He was a good soldier. I missed him when he returned home. Is he working?”
“Yes, at Gordon Matthews Industries as a computer programmer.”
“Does he like it?”
“Yes, he’s really enjoying it.”
“That’s good to hear. Sometimes it’s hard to go back. A lot of men’s lives have been messed up.” Jake stared at the floor for a long moment, lost in thought.
Most likely remembering. The rigid set of Jake’s shoulders made Emma wonder about his particular story. Each soldier had his own, some more traumatic than others. Ben had been flown back to the States eight months earlier due to his encounter with a land mine that had blown up a few feet from him in a field where one of his friends died. He lost part of his left arm while several other soldiers were also injured. But Ben kept in touch with many of the ones still in his old unit—there to help if they needed it. Jake wasn’t staying in touch. Emma nudged Shep, giving him the signal to bark. He did.
Jake lifted his head, turning his attention toward the German shepherd. “He’s a beautiful dog. How long have you had him?”
“Almost nine months. I’ve been training Shep to be a service dog. His specialty is working with people with PTSD.” She watched Jake for a reaction.
He looked at her, a frown pulling his eyebrows down. “Why did you bring him today?”
“Because I like to take him out for a walk when I can and—” she swallowed to coat her dry throat “—I wanted you to meet him.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Her gaze caught his. “Because I think you need a dog like Shep.”
He rose, grappling for his cane. “I have work to do. Thank you for bringing the brownies.” His hard expression shouted, But don’t ever come back!
She didn’t move. “Please. Let me explain.”
He started to say something but pressed his lips together.
She took his silence as an okay. “I want to help you. I know what my brother went through when he came home. He couldn’t hold down a job, even a simple one. He lived with our parents and didn’t leave the house hardly at all—often holing himself up in his old bedroom. He got angry at the least little thing. He had the shakes and would shut down if something even little went wrong. He had nightmares and didn’t want to sleep. When I gave him Butch, I saw how effective the dog was with him. Still is. Butch has a way of calming him down and centering him.”
“That’s your brother, not me.” Jake took his seat again.
From checking with a few of his neighbors, Emma knew Jake rarely left his house. Jake Tanner was hiding out. Easier to stay home than go out in crowds where he had little control of what would happen around him. Ben had been like that at first. Butch had made the difference.
“I can help you if you’ll just give Shep a chance.”
“I’m capable of dealing with my problems. Healing takes time.”
“A service dog can help that along.”
“How? My injury was my leg. I’m up and about. I can walk now.”
“There are other injuries that aren’t so visible. A dog can help with those.”
“What? Emotional ones?” He clasped his cane between his legs with both hands and leaned forward slightly.
“Yes. Dogs can sense when a problem is going to occur and intervene before it becomes worse.”
His grip tightened around the ivory knob on the end of his cane until his knuckles whitened. “I’ve heard of other soldiers using service dogs. I don’t want to have to care for an animal. I’m barely—” He snapped his mouth closed.
“What? Barely holding it together?” Emma asked, returning his unwavering gaze. She hadn’t given up on Ben. Though they were virtual strangers, she could tell Jake needed help. She had promised her brother she would do what she could for his former commanding officer and she would, somehow.
Jake stiffened. “I have work to do.”
She sighed. “Sometimes I can be too blunt. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”
“I respect a person who speaks her mind, but that doesn’t change the fact I don’t need a service dog. I’m coping.”
“That’s good because Ben wasn’t.”
“It hasn’t been that long since I came home. Recovery takes time.” Jake’s voice didn’t sound as convincing as the man probably wanted.
“Time and help. I agree.”
His gaze pinned her down. “I’m receiving help from my doctor.”
Emma resisted the urge to squirm under his intense glare. “Is he here when you have panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares?”
Jake winced, a mask falling into place as if he were shutting down all emotions.
The problem was a person couldn’t block his feelings forever. They were there in the background, ready to strike when he least expected. Emma said, “A service dog can help a person with those kinds of things. When someone has a panic attack, the dog’s trained to calm him. The animal can be trained to wake up a person who’s having a nightmare. Flashbacks often lead to panic attacks or at the very least, emotional upheavals. A dog can be there at all hours to console, be a companion. Not to mention they’re great listeners.”
A tic twitched in his hardened jaw. “Does he talk back?”
Emma grinned. “I can do a lot with the dogs I train, but I haven’t accomplished that yet. But they can understand a lot of commands, if properly taught. Shep has been trained in all those areas.”
Jake stood. “Thanks for coming.”
Jake’s polite words and neutral expression didn’t totally cover a hopelessness in his eyes. Emma could identify; she remembered how, when her husband died, she’d struggled to pay off his debts. She was still paying the hospital bill every month from the last time Sam was admitted.
Emma followed Jake from the living room. Shep trotted next to her. Ben’s captain opened the front door and moved to the side to allow her to leave.
She stepped outside and pivoted. “Where did the boys attack Josh?”
