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“We’re getting pressured to let you go now that your medical discharge has gone through. You’ll transfer to the Veterans Administration.”
“I’m losing you?”
“I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I didn’t like where you made me go.”
“Today is important, Andy. I’m not saying tomorrow is going to be easier. What happened today will happen again. You’ll see someone who reminds you of Jared. The anger will come flooding back. But it’s the beginning of taking your life back.”
She looked doubtful.
“Have you cried yet?” The question came out of nowhere. Or maybe not. He’d asked it a month ago.
She thought about lying, but what the hell. “No,” she said. It was unnatural. She knew it, but she hurt too much for tears.
“You can only keep them inside so long,” he said.
She only nodded.
He sat there studying her. “I have a proposal for you,” he finally said.
“What?” she said suspiciously.
“I wouldn’t have suggested it yesterday. You weren’t ready. You still might not be, but given the circumstances I think it’s worth a try.”
She waited.
“There’s a cabin in a small town in Colorado that’s available,” he said slowly, and she knew he was carefully choosing his words. “It belongs to a veteran who recently married. It was passed to another vet who no longer needs it. The town has a large number of veterans, and they look after each other.”
She hated his calm, reasoning tone. She didn’t want reason. She wanted to turn back the clock to a time before her world had fallen apart. And she didn’t want to go to someone else’s cabin.
Andy knew she didn’t have many choices. She had worn out her welcome at the military hospital. She couldn’t go home. She didn’t want to take her grief and anger there or be a burden on her family back home. Jobs were rare, if not nonexistent, in a dying coal town, especially for a surgical nurse who would start trembling uncontrollably at loud noises and who had a hand that didn’t work. Never mind the nightmares that made a night’s sleep rare.
She should be married now, making a home with the man she loved with all her heart, maybe even beginning a baby they both wanted. That dream was gone, and there was precious little left.
But charity...
A Stuart didn’t take charity. Never had, no matter how bad the times, and they had been bad most of her life. She never wanted to live in a small town again. She’d felt trapped as a child and later as a teenager. She’d been different. A nerd in a town where half the kids didn’t finish high school and most went into the mines, and, if they didn’t, they left as fast as they could hitch a ride out of town.
Her out had been the ROTC and a ROTC scholarship for a nursing degree. She was the first and only member of her family to go to college, much less obtain a four-year degree. The price had been ten years in the army, much of it in Iraq and Afghanistan field hospitals.
And now...now there was nothing. She’d sent most of her salary home to her mother and youngest sister in West Virginia. It would be a while, apparently a long while, before she received back pay and disability from the army. The backlog was as much as two years long. She was, in effect, the next thing to being dead broke.
“I don’t want charity,” she said again.
“It’s not charity,” he said, leaning across the desk. “You might say it’s meant as a way station for returning vets while they find their legs. It sits alongside a lake fed by the mountain streams, and there’s a large number of supportive vets, some of whom have gone through much the same thing you’re going through now.”
He paused, then added, “As for charity, you’ll probably be asked, but not required, to do something connected to the town. The last vet taught computer classes for senior citizens.”
“Where is he now?”
“He joined the police department there. He’s being groomed for chief.”
“What was he?” she asked, curious despite herself.
“A chopper pilot. Suffered a head injury that kept him from flying again. I have to say that he had the same reaction as you have but decided to try it. He’s very happy that he did. He said you could call him if you want.”
“You told him about me?” she said.
“Not you specifically. Not without talking to you first. I just said there was someone who could be interested in the cabin.”
“And no one wants to know more?”
“Nope.”
“I think it’s weird,” she said.
Dr. Payne smiled. “It’s a good kind of weird. But the vets are a close-knit group. They have a weekly poker game,” he said with a grin. Somewhere in all their discussions, she’d let it slip that she had become a good poker player during the slow times at the field hospital.
“All guys?”
“Don’t know. Didn’t ask. Doesn’t matter. They take care of each other.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of.” She feared she sounded like a child. She wasn’t going to admit that maybe, just maybe, she did.
“If Covenant Falls doesn’t work out for you, you can always get into a PTSD program in Denver. There’s a good one there.”
She looked at him warily. He knew her financial situation. In fact, he knew a great deal about her. She had been in a stupor for months after Jared’s death. He had tried to make her want to live again, to believe that was what Jared would want.
“Give it a try,” Dr. Payne said, obviously sensing victory. “You don’t have to stay. It’s not a jail sentence. If you’re uncomfortable or just don’t like it, I’ll find something else.”
“I’ll think about it,” Andy said. She really didn’t care where she was. And he was right. She wouldn’t have to stay.
“Do you like dogs?” Dr. Payne asked unexpectedly.
“Sure. Who doesn’t?” Andy replied, relieved to be off the subject. “Never had one. Money was too tight when I was a kid, then a dog doesn’t really fit into army life unless it’s military.”
“There’s several programs, including one near here that matches shelter dogs with vets who have PTSD. They’re trained to sense when a PTSD attack is coming and alert their vet.”
She hesitated. A dog? How could she take care of a dog when she couldn’t take care of herself right now? Dr. Payne waited, then said gently, “You would be saving a life.” He paused. “And I can probably win you a few more days here.”
He was trying to force her to make a decision, but the idea suddenly appealed to Andy. Loneliness was like a shroud around her. And a dog wouldn’t ask questions or give sympathy or question her choices. “Would the cabin owner approve?”
The psychologist grinned.
“He adopted a retired military dog with PTSD. The woman he married has four rescue dogs and, from what I hear, two horses, a cat and a son. He was a dedicated loner before he went to Covenant Falls.”
She couldn’t hide her skepticism. The loner probably hadn’t seen his fiancé shot down in a hail of bullets by one of people he was trying to help. “How much is a dog? I don’t have much money.”
“It’s free. The dog has all its shots, is well trained and there’s equipment provided, as well. A dog bed, dishes. Food. Toys.”
She felt like a fish being reeled in. She didn’t like being manipulated, but she had to make a decision. And fast.
Dr. Payne waited, as he always did. He rarely appeared to push, but in his own devious way, that was exactly what happened.
“Maybe I’ll give the cabin a try,” she said reluctantly.
“What about the dog?” Dr. Payne said.
She hesitated, just as she hesitated at any move forward these days. Inertia had taken over her life. Decisions were difficult if not impossible. That was entirely new for her. She had been making decisions since she was little older than a toddler. When set on a course she could be rarely be deterred. But that was before. Now...nothing was important.
“Andy,” Dr. Payne said, changing from his usual formal “Lieutenant.” “Give it a try. At least talk to the trainer. See the dog. You don’t have to make a decision this minute.”
There was that reason again. Sometimes she hated it.
She nodded her head.
* * *
THREE DAYS LATER, she drove with Dr. Payne to meet the dog. She braced herself for meeting someone new and having to make a decision.
Dr. Payne had warned her that the trainer wouldn’t let the dog go with just anyone. There had to be “a fit.” She swallowed as Dr. Payne turned the car onto a well-rutted dirt road. What if the dog rejected her? She didn’t know whether that was what she wanted or not. She had decided that if it did work she was going to keep an emotional distance from the animal.
Why had she let Dr. Payne talk her into this?
“You’re second-guessing yourself again,” Dr. Payne said.
“You didn’t trust me to get here on my own,” she accused him.
She’d been surprised when he’d offered to drive her down on his day off. Probably because he feared she would back out, or not make it in the Bucket, her ancient Volkswagen.
If the introduction went well, she would be expected to stay at the trainer’s ranch for several days for intense training and to ensure the match would be successful.
Maybe it wouldn’t be. In the past few days, she’d read enough about the program to know there had to be trust on the part of both the veteran and the dog. She didn’t know if she could give that.
Dr. Payne turned onto a dirt road that led to a small ranch house. There were also stables, an oblong building with a chimney, kennels and a fenced-in area. Several dogs came to the fence and barked as Dr. Payne parked the car.
A wiry woman came to the car as Andy stepped out. “Lieutenant,” she said. “I’m Karen Conway. Call me Karen. Everyone does.” She held out a weathered hand, and Andy took it.
“We won’t waste time,” Karen said. “I know Richard...Dr. Payne...hasn’t much of that.”
The way she said Richard startled Andy. There was a warmth in it, as if they were more than simply acquaintances. Dr. Payne never talked about his private life.
Before any more thoughts flickered through her mind, she was herded into the ranch house. A dog was at the window, watching. He didn’t move until they were all inside and Karen said, “Joseph, say hello.”
The dog approached obediently. He was medium size where she had expected a larger animal. Maybe a German shepherd. But this dog more resembled a small Lassie; his coat appeared woven of shades of tan and black and gray. He had blue eyes that regarded her as cautiously as she expected hers were.
“Joseph?” Karen said again.
The dog held up his paw.
Andy took it gingerly. The fur was soft, and the dog’s gaze seemed to reach inside her and ask questions she couldn’t answer. Then his tongue flicked out and licked her hand.
“He likes you,” Karen said. “It took much longer for Adam to win a kiss.”
Andy found herself petting the dog.
“Try behind his ears,” Karen said. “That and his stomach are his favorite places.”
Andy followed the advice and with her good hand rubbed behind the dog’s ears. Joseph turned on his back and bared his stomach. She rubbed it, stopped when she heard a rumbling noise.
“That’s a groan of pleasure,” Karen said with a smile.
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
Andy went back to rubbing his stomach before straightening up.
“You think he will do?” Karen asked.
Andy stood and Joseph sat in front of her. She hesitated. Joseph lifted the same paw that he had before and looked expectant.
“He’s accepted you. Now it’s up to you,” Karen said. “He’s a smart dog, one of the smartest I’ve trained, and that says a lot. He had to be to survive. If you feel through the fur, you’ll find scars. He’s had some rough times. Some hikers found him badly hurt in the mountains. They assumed he’d been dumped by someone and had a run-in with wild animals. One of the hikers, a donor to this program, took him home, but he already had several dogs.
“He called me,” Karen continued. “Said Joseph had a natural empathy that makes him ideal for our purposes. If you have a nightmare, he knows to wake you up. He will remind you when it’s time to go to bed. Panic attack? He will physically interrupt you and redirect the panic.”
Andy was stunned. She had read about dogs and vets but hadn’t realized exactly what they did. “All of that?” she asked dubiously.
“And more. He can find and locate objects, like your shoes, or your phone or keys. In other words, he can pretty much do anything you want to teach him to do.”
Andy found it hard to believe he could do all that. But if he just interrupted the nightmares, she would be grateful.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Karen said, “but it’s really remarkable what these dogs can do.”
“Dr. Payne said they are free. How can you do that?”
“I have sponsors. Dr. Payne is one of them. But there’s others, including area veterinarians who donate their services. I do it because my son had PTSD, only it wasn’t recognized like it is now.” She paused, then added, “He committed suicide.”
“I’m sorry,” Andy said.
Karen simply nodded. “If you decide you want to come into the program, you’ll stay in the bunkhouse with the dog until I think the two of you are ready. But I want to know for sure that you’re committed, that you will stick with it. I don’t want Joseph disappointed again.”
“What happened?”
“Adam took Joseph home and then discovered his wife was extremely allergic to dog hair. It was either her or Joseph.” She looked sternly into Andy’s eyes. “You don’t have anyone allergic, do you?”
“No.”
