Soul Scars (Dog Haven Sanctuary Romance) (16 page)

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Last night—”

“Yeah, actually, you’re right. Let’s talk a bit more about last night. That hurt, Vince, that you wouldn’t come and have a drink with us, play a game of pool.”

“I know. I tried to tell you. My behavior was inexcusable. I’m not saying that by explaining what happened makes it any more acceptable. What I’m saying is that this is me. I try to control it but I can’t. Stuff rolls in and intrudes on situations.”

“Are you going to use PTSD as a pass every time you feel like being an ass?”

He pushed himself up. “I get enough of this from Taryn—”

“No, really, Vince, I need to know.”

“Know what?”

“Know that you’re totally invested in helping yourself.” She swung her legs to the floor and swore.

“There, right there. You are hurt.”

“Yup,
I’m
hurting, Vince, and
you
can fix it. However, this”—she pointed to her bruised thigh—“three or four days and this will fix itself.” When she reached the door she called Joker to her side. “Breakfast is at six-thirty.”

Through the window above the workbench, he watched her cross the yard and carefully climb the steps with a leg that was giving her grief. What an idiot he was. Bringing Taryn into this was fucking childish. Nothing like comparing Lulah to the woman you’re about to divorce. He should go after her, apologize, explain, fix it, but her cabin was her sanctuary and busting in there was too intrusive. For her sake, she had to be confident that allowing him to stay in the barn didn’t mean he was going to intrude on her private space.

Back at his workbench, he started on a fresh sheet of paper and sketched Lulah as she’d looked stretched across the sofa. Drawing her was the highest level of intimacy he could allow.

BY MONDAY EVENING, he had shifted his gear out of the house and made the repairs to the kitchen door. Jono, from the Sanctuary, came over to give him a hand with moving. All these people being so good to him were pretty amazing, but their generosity was countered by the pressure of a growing emotional debt. The more help he accepted, the more faith people put in him, the greater the potential of his failure. It didn’t matter what he tried to tell himself, he had reached a stage where solitude was so damned easy. As he finished unpacking a box back at the barn, he found his favorite picture of Gable. With the bottom of his t-shirt, he cleaned the dirt from the frame glass. Solitude might be easy, but it wasn’t going to be an option.

Chapter 13

L
ULAH SAT IN Marlo’s office chair, her hand hovering the mouse over the ‘submit’ button on the web page in front of her.

“I’ll count to three for you to press that button, Lulah.”

“I feel sick.”

“You’ll be great. Get ready to do it. You can close your eyes if you want, but you have to press the damned button or you’ll time-out on the website. You know what those sites are like.”

Lulah spun the chair around. “I clicked it, quick, Marlo, tell me what’s on the screen!”

“No,” Marlo shut her eyes. “They’re your results. Come on. I can’t believe you’re being such a baby.”

Lulah spun back. “Ohgodohgodohgod…” She grabbed at her chest. “Pass, Marlo, I can’t believe it, I’ve passed. No more nasty written assignments.” She grinned. “Looks like I need some time off, Boss, because now I have three five-day lab courses to do. I feel sick and excited. How much time do I have before applications for the Director of Training position close?”

“You’ll have plenty of time to apply, Lulah. The CRAR Board knows you want the position, and they understand that for us, you’re the best choice.” CRAR, otherwise known as Canine Rescue and Rehabilitation, was the umbrella organization that funded a number of dog sanctuaries, including Dog Haven. They were generous but, in return, insisted on professionalism and transparency on behalf of their benefactors. Branching into the PTSD service dog training program was Lulah’s idea, but if she didn’t complete her Animal Behavior degree, someone else would raise that baby.

“What if I don’t make it?”

“You’ll make it. Hey, come on, tough chick, you’re never like this.”

Right there, Marlo nailed it. Always coping, being the strong one for everyone, hiding behind a laugh, it made it that much tougher when you were vulnerable because nobody thought to step in and help. And at this moment, she’d belted through a tide of vulnerability in more ways than she’d ever done in her life. Proud and scared all at the same time. Who’d have thought? “I’ve never passed any sort of exam before. I can’t wait to tell Vince; he helped me so much with this.”

“He’s going to be proud of you. Why don’t you stay for dinner and we’ll celebrate? Adam’s overnighting in Seattle for more interviews tomorrow. He was going to come home tonight, and drive back in the morning, but I convinced him to stay. He still doesn’t like leaving me alone in the house so I told him I’m completely safe with Justice around, and that he wasn’t actually needed.”

“I bet he loved that. Why don’t you come to the cabin for dinner instead? Vince is cooking and right now I think he needs to be close to home. He’ll probably go and work after dinner, but he may want to stick around.”

“How is he since the weekend?”

“Contrite and concerned. He had a session with his doctor this afternoon so he might not be too talkative tonight. He’s inclined to shut down a bit after that. Horrific as the weekend was, at least it pushed him into fully committing to dealing with his issues. He seemed to think that if he worked hard at burying the emotions, being a good person, and generally holding his shit together, everything would be fine.”

Marlo winced.

“Oh, sorry, Boss. You have that t-shirt, huh?”

“At least I know it doesn’t work. Let me talk with Vince. We haven’t had a chat without Adam around for a while. Love that man with all my heart but hell, he thinks it’s his job to fix
everything
.”

“HOW LUCKY FOR you to have your own in-house chef.”

Lulah and Marlo were sitting on the sofa among a scatter of cushions and a jumble of dogs. Fala, Marlo’s old dog, made a rare trip out for the night and as befitting a grand duchess, commandeered the best dog bed. Justice, Marlo’s rescue pit bull, Joker, and Calliope lay on the floor in between wrestling bouts. Vince cooking looked happy and relaxed.

“Clarification, that would be
hot
in-house chef,” Vince called out to Marlo.

“Hot because of the spiciness of his food,” said Lulah.

“She a liar,” Vince added. “Somebody set the table, dinner is almost done.”

While Lulah set the table, Marlo opened the Méthode Traditionnelle she had earlier placed in Lulah’s fridge. “We’ll have champagne when you’re qualified, and when you buy yourself a matching set of appropriate glasses. Is this all you have?” She gestured to the two mismatched wine glasses and tumbler Lulah set out.

“That’s it.” Lulah grinned. “Now, pour away, sister, before those bubbles expire.” When Marlo finished Lulah picked up the bottle. “Oh, someone’s in trouble when Adam gets back, you’ve raided his wine cache again.”

“
Our
wine cache.”

“Except I think Adam’s brought this from New Zealand. You won’t be able to replace it.”

“He’ll never notice.”

“Right, sure. He was probably saving it for a special occasion.”

“This is a special occasion.”

Vince tapped his glass with his fork, placing it back on the table when he had the attention of the two women. “I know, tacky, but it was the only way I could make you two to listen up. It’s time for a toast—”

“Toast? I want risotto!”

“Lulah!”

“Sorry.”

Vince stared at the ceiling. “Patiently waiting with glass in the air…”

“Sorry, even more. Go ahead.”

“Here’s to your perseverance, Lulah, for going after what you want, despite the obstacles. And for reaching your goal.”

Lulah raised her own glass. “And here’s to you, Vince, because I wouldn’t have managed this without the way you patiently helped me put the words in the right order.”

Marlo cleared her throat. “And here’s to both of you for giving and receiving help, because for some of us, that’s a difficult concept to grasp.” She paused, “Now, let’s drink.”

They started with a simple white bean soup, followed by a risotto Vince made using mushrooms he’d foraged up in the hills, along with a side dish of braised Cavolo Nero from Lulah’s vegetable garden.

“Vince, this is excellent,” Marlo said after her first mouthful. “You can come and cook for Adam and me any night.”

“No way,” said Lulah, “he’s all mine. I enjoy cooking, but Vince is so adventurous. I’ve hiked past mushrooms for two years now. Who knew they were all edible?”

“Not all of them are,” said Vince.

“So how do you know which ones to gather?” Marlo asked.

“It’s easy; you only pick the wrong ones once.”

When they finished dinner, Lulah had Marlo and Vince move to the living area while she warmed an apple crisp she’d made earlier for dessert. Vince stopped at one glass of wine and now carried a glass of water over to the fireplace where he studied a small picture on the mantle.

“This is you, Lulah.” He held the oil painting of a young girl and her dog.

“Yeah, me and Trilby, my first dog.”

Vince rubbed his finger around the edge of the frame.

“You checking on my housekeeping skills?”

He ignored her, still studying the picture. “You looked like a little imp back then, too,” he said quietly as he placed it back on the mantle. Lulah crossed the room carrying a tray with their dessert and a jug of cream which she set on top of the old trunk that multi-tasked as a storage unit and coffee table.

“Who painted that?”

Glancing quickly at the picture then Vince, as if to be sure they were talking about the same thing, she answered. “My dad.”

“It’s good. Really good.”

“He never believed in his painting; he preferred gambling instead. He said he was an average painter among thousands of other average painters. What a pity he never grasped the idea that he was a below-average gambler.” She went to the picture and picked it up. Despite the fact that it had traveled with her throughout her life, sat on her mantle and been dusted each week, she hadn’t studied it closely in years. There she sat on the grass with Trilby stretched out at her feet. He carried a red ball in his mouth while she leaned back on her arms, a quirky smile on her face. Her father had captured them well. The picture spoke of a child without a care, a time before the gambling losses, the fights, and the vanishing assets.

“You know, it’s all I have from my childhood. Obviously books didn’t feature much, and my mother disappeared with the little left once the repo man had been through.” Her laugh was hollow.

“Really, that’s it?”

“Yup, that and a few photos, which is more than what Marlo had.”

Marlo set the cream jug back on the tray, using her forearm to guide Fala away from the food. “I had books. That was something.”

“No photos?” Vince asked.

“No. It’s odd, isn’t it? They’re something most people take for granted, but I don’t have any. I don’t know if photos were taken. I don’t recall. None made it with my belongings to the school where I boarded after Mom died. An actual record of my life in that sense didn’t begin until I met Adam. Now he makes up for it. I feel as though every time I turn around I catch him taking a photo of me.”

Lulah crossed her hands over her heart. “Aw, young love,” she teased.

“Having books and normal parents are no guarantee for an easy life. Look at me, I’m the biggest wreck of all of us and my upbringing was all sunshine and apple pie.”

“True dat.”

“Lulah!”

She grinned at Vince. “Oh, so I wasn’t supposed to agree?”

“I’d accuse you of leaving the gate open, but I’m not letting you away with that any more. That’s your excuse for making mischief.”

“You haven’t seen me close to misbehaving, Vince.”

Marlo cleared her throat. “Hello, I’m still here. If you two need privacy go ahead, say the word.”

Vince smiled. “It’s okay, I’ll leave you ladies to it soon. I have work to catch up on.” He faced Lulah. “What comes next with your course?”