"Rover doesn't understand that you're coming back," Neal explained, speaking above the sound of Rover's moans.

"Oh dear."

"I'll tell you what," Neal said, lowering his voice. "I'll loan you this pet carrier as long as you promise to return it this afternoon. That way you can take Rover now."

"Sure, no problem." At least I hoped it wouldn't be a problem. My one concern was leaving him in the car while I went into the shop. But I doubted the pet store would object to me bringing a dog inside, especially if he was already in a carrier.

I crouched down on the floor so that Rover could see me. He raised his paw against the bars and barked once as though to get my attention. Slowly he lowered his paw and regarded me with deep, dark, soulful eyes that seemed to plead with me not to leave him behind.

"Don't worry," I whispered and thought myself ridiculous for believing a dog would understand.

"I'll walk out with you," Neal said, lifting the carrier.

I straightened, looped my purse strap over my shoulder, retrieved my car keys, and led the way into the parking lot. "Is this behavior common?" I asked Neal. As a volunteer, he must have seen literally hundreds of dogs find homes.

"No," he was quick to tell me. "I've never seen anything like it. Marnie, the manager, and I, feared we wouldn't be able to place Rover. Until you, his behavior has made placement nearly impossible. I don't know how to explain it. It isn't possible, of course, but it's almost as if he was waiting for you and he rejected everyone else until you walked through the door."

It was odd. I'd hoped that Rover would lose his ferocity now that he had a home with me. If not, it could be a serious problem with guests at the inn. That said, I didn't second guess my decision for an instant.

"Would it be all right if I stopped by the inn in a week or so to see how Rover is adjusting?" Neal asked as he loaded the carrier into the rear seat of my car.

"Of course."

"I can't help being curious."

As a matter of fact, I was interested in how Rover and I would adjust, too. I remembered Paul had loved dogs and when he originally enlisted in the military he'd hoped to work with the canine unit. But following basic training he'd gone into the Ranger program instead.

As soon as he realized he wasn't being left behind, Rover laid down in the carrier, head forward, and promptly closed his eyes. After saying good-bye and my thanking him, Neal returned to the shelter and I turned on the car engine. Before pulling out of the parking lot, I twisted around to glance at Rover.

"Did Paul send you?" I asked again in a whisper.

Rover lifted his head and c.o.c.ked it quizzically.

"Never mind; I have a very strong feeling that he did." As I drove away from the shelter I felt sure that Paul had intervened in my life once again, this time bringing me this small companion. We would help each other, I believed.

The stop at the pet store took longer than I antic.i.p.ated. By the time I'd acc.u.mulated all the paraphernalia required for a dog an hour had pa.s.sed. I'd never intended to be away from the inn this long, so I hurried back to the shelter to return the carrier. Rover had made the transfer to the new one I'd purchased without a qualm, almost as if he knew exactly what was required of him.

Neal wasn't around when I carted the carrier back into the shelter. I didn't stay longer than necessary and hurried back to where I'd left the car. When I opened the driver's-side door Rover looked up, saw it was me, and immediately put his head back down, resting his chin on his front paws.

I drove directly back to the inn. At breakfast both my guests had said not to expect them for tea that afternoon. If life had taught me anything it was that plans change, though, and I wanted to be prepared in case either of them found themselves at loose ends and returned to the inn.

After parking my car I was relieved to see that both my guests' vehicles were nowhere in sight. I brought Rover out of the car and unzipped the carrier, attached his leash, and lifted him out.

"You might want to acquaint yourself with the gra.s.s," I told him. The woman who'd waited on me at the pet store said that Rover would want to mark his territory.

He shivered in the cold and looked up at me doubtfully.

"Do your thing," I said, waving him forward, eager to get inside where it was warm.

He twisted his head around and looked at me a second time with the same questioning look.

"You know ... relieve yourself," I elaborated, gesturing with my hand once more.

After a moment he apparently got the idea and lifted his hind leg against a bush. Then, as if he knew exactly where to go, he trotted toward the inn, leading me up the steps.

"All right, all right," I said, smiling to myself. I unlocked the front door and swung it open. "It's a big house, you're welcome to look around," I told him.

I unfastened the leash and expected Rover to immediately go exploring. To my surprise he sat down on his back haunches and studied me.

"What?" I asked. This was the most peculiar dog.

Rover just continued to stare up at me as though he was waiting-for what I could only speculate.

"Well fine," I muttered. "You can stay right here if you want, I've got things to do." I traipsed back to the car and lugged in the two heavy bags of supplies I'd purchased at the pet store. First things first, I made room in the pantry for the bag of dry dog food and the cans.

I was still rearranging the storage area when I was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. Immediately Rover barked ferociously and raced so fast into the entryway that his hind legs nearly went out from under him on the polished wood floor.

I took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't be aggressive or overly protective with visitors. When I opened the door I was surprised to find Grace Harding from the library on the other side.

"Grace," I said, welcoming her. "This is a surprise. Come in." I pulled the door farther open and then realized Rover was in the way, greeting her with a low growl. "Rover," I said, chastising him, "this is a friend." To my relief, he immediately backed off and sat down.

"I apologize for stopping in unannounced," Grace said. "Neal phoned and told me you'd adopted Rover and I was concerned."

"Concerned?" I straightened and led the way into the kitchen. Without asking, I automatically put water on the stove for a pot of tea. I hoped Grace would stay long enough to join me.

Rover found the braided rug in front of the refrigerator, curled up, and watched me as I moved about the kitchen.

"Rover is ... a troubled dog."

"Really?" I hid a smile. What Grace and Neal didn't know was that this dog and I had already bonded. I was pretty sure we understood each other.

"Well, he certainly looks content now," she added, and seemed surprised. "Neal said that Rover had the most unusual reaction to you." She paused as though she expected me to fill in the blanks; only I didn't know what to tell her. We had barely met and I wasn't comfortable explaining that I had just come through a major loss, which was why my heart felt wide open to this small dog. It was impossible to know exactly what had transpired in Rover's short life, but apparently he hadn't had such an easy time of it either.

Years ago I remember reading the story of a construction worker who'd been hurt on the job, losing the use of his arm. A friend had suggested he adopt a dog and he'd gone to the shelter. That dog chose him. I knew without a doubt that Rover had chosen me.

"It looks like you're adapting to each other just fine."

"We are," I a.s.sured her.

Grace continued to frown. "He hasn't ... well, you've only had him a short while."

"Hasn't what?" I asked.

"Never mind."

"No, tell me," I said. The kettle on the stove whistled. I removed it, poured the hot water into the teapot, and automatically brought down two cups.

"Perhaps another time. I really can't stay long. Cliff is at home waiting for me and I told him I would only be a few minutes."

"Do you have time for tea?" I asked.

She hesitated. "It does look inviting."

"You have time," I a.s.sured her. I was sure her husband wouldn't begrudge her a cup of tea.

Grace unfastened her coat and slipped it over the back of a chair and then sat on one of the stools by the kitchen counter.

I poured the tea and placed the sugar bowl and milk in the center of the counter. Then I scooted a stool to the other side, so we could sit directly across from each other.

"A few weeks ago we had a couple of men come through the shelter," Grace said. "They asked to see what dogs were available for adoption. I had my suspicions right away-something didn't feel right about those two. They lingered for a bit and wandered out to where we walk the dogs. Another volunteer happened to have Rover on a leash and the dog went ballistic when he saw the two men, barking crazily and tugging at his leash."

"Perhaps he knew them?"

Grace reached for her teacup and held it with both hands. "Perhaps. We'll never know for sure. One thing was certain, he had the same feeling I did."

"Have you learned anything about them since that time?"

Grace shook her head. "It was just a feeling. If they'd applied to adopt one of the animals, I would have found an excuse to refuse them. They gave me the creeps."

I sipped my tea, wondering how Rover had known. Grace, too, for that matter. Perhaps the men ran a puppy mill. Well, it wouldn't do any good to speculate. They didn't get any of the dogs.

"Given the opportunity, I feel Rover would have gladly taken a chunk off their legs."

"In other words, you're afraid Rover might be a biter?"

Grace looked down and then nodded. "Keep an eye on him, okay?"

"Will do."

"Let me know if there are any problems, all right?"

"I will," I promised, but in my heart of hearts, damaged as it was, I knew that wouldn't be the case. After all, it wasn't every day that someone got adopted by a dog.

Chapter 31.

Very little had changed about Angela's family home, Abby noticed, as she eased to a stop in front of the Whites' residence. The rambler with its shuttered windows and large three-car garage was as familiar to her as her own childhood home.

At one time Abby had spent as much time at Angela's house as she had at her own. More Fridays than she could count, Abby had spent the night with her best friend. Often they'd stayed awake until dawn, chattering and laughing, so young and silly. The most pressing decision was which boy's invitation they would accept for prom. Those days seemed a lifetime ago now.

The Whites were never the same after burying their daughter, or so Abby had repeatedly heard. Did parents ever recover from the death of a child? She prayed she would never have to answer that question herself.

With her hands braced against the steering wheel, she sucked in a deep breath and then reluctantly turned off the car engine. Her resolve weakened as she approached the house, clenching her purse in her hands. The hedge along the walkway was missing, she noticed. Funny how that small detail would catch her attention. In its place, Charlene White had cut out two foot-wide flower beds.

A memory flashed through her mind and she smiled. It had happened shortly after Angela started wearing Brandon Edmond's cla.s.s ring. She'd hidden her arm behind her back to surprise Abby. She'd wanted to dramatically whip her arm around to show her friend the ring.

The surprise had been all Angela's though. The ring had flown off her finger, landing deep inside the hedge. The two of them had spent hours on their hands and knees searching for Brandon's ring. Thankfully they'd eventually found it, but not before a lot of angst.

Pausing halfway up the walkway, Abby felt herself drowning in the memories of her friend. After all these years she still missed Angela's easy laugh, her quick wit, and her zest for life.

"I don't know that this is such a good idea," she muttered under her breath just as if Angela was standing next to her.

"Just do it." Angela seemed to be telling her.

Oh great, Abby thought to herself, not only am I hearing voices, they are speaking in cliches. This is ridiculous.

Still, she couldn't make herself turn away. It was now or never. Her brother's wedding was due to start in three hours and the rest of the day would be consumed with the ceremony and the wedding reception. Then in the morning, she'd leave for Florida at the crack of dawn. A late night, an early morning, and a flight home-if she was going to confront Angela's parents, it had to be now.

With renewed resolve, Abby approached the front door. Her one hope was that Angela's family wouldn't be home. Then she would feel that she'd done her duty, and could leave in good conscience.

Angela couldn't fault her if that happened. She was going to be in town for such a limited time, that this would have to be it.

Holding in her breath, she rang the doorbell. Her finger bounced against that round white b.u.t.ton, her touch light and hesitant.

Almost right away Abby's hopes were dashed as she heard movement on the other side of the door.

"Coming," Michael White, Angela's father, called out.

Abby held her breath as the front door was unlatched and opened. Mr. White stopped and stared at her. Abby watched as the blood drained from his face.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. White."

He appeared to be in shock and didn't acknowledge her.

"Who is it?" Angela's mother called from the kitchen, and then joined her husband.

Charlene White stood next to Mike and stared at Abby with widening eyes. "You have a lot of nerve," she whispered, almost as if the words were being wrenched from her throat.

"I'm in town for my brother's wedding," Abby blurted out, saying the first thing that came to mind, as if she needed an excuse, an explanation.

"Oh yes, your parents must be happy to be able to attend their child's wedding. Unfortunately Mike and I-"

"Charlene," Mr. White said, cutting her off. He reached forward and unlocked the screen door. "Come inside, Abby," he said.

"Mike, no ..."

Not sure what to do, Abby hesitated.

Mr. White turned toward his wife. "It's time, Char. Angela would have wanted us to welcome her friend."

"How can you say that?" Mrs. White quietly turned and left the room.