Rescuing Finley (A Forever Home Novel Book 1) Read online

  Amy knew what she was talking about and knew that she was right. But she didn’t want to push Finley away. She was right there in the same fantasy.

  “Amy,” Rita said in a softer tone, “you can’t keep him. You know that, right? If one of these vets doesn’t take him home, he won’t be staying here. He’ll be going back to the Humane Society and some family will adopt him. Either way, he won’t be here with you. I’m sorry to have to be so blunt, but it’s just the truth. That happens, and all this training we’ve been putting him through was for nothing. And some vet—someone who really could be helped bigtime by a dog like Finley—will lose out.”

  Amy didn’t respond right away. “I know,” she finally said. “I know you’re right.”

  “Well, let’s get them outside so they’ll be ready to go when the vets start showing up.”

  “Okay.” Amy stood.

  “Alright Charlie,” Rita said in a firm voice, “Leave it.”

  Both Charlie and Finley stop tugging when they heard her command. Charlie let go of the stuffed animal and walked over to Rita’s side. She praised him for it, snapped on his leash. “Let’s go.”

  28

  A steady procession of dogs and trainers made their way out of the dorm rooms, down the hall and into the main training room. Finley walked cheerfully beside Amy, totally used to this routine now. As soon as she entered the main room, Amy looked to her left at the guest chairs lined up along the far wall and at the door that opened to the outside.

  Many of the vets who’d already picked out their dogs were sitting in the chairs or coming through the door. They smiled and waved at their respective trainers and dogs. Most of the dogs seemed to recognize “their” vets. The inmate-trainers had been given permission to let the dogs spend a few minutes greeting their future owners before the class began.

  Those who were still unmatched, like Finley, stood in their usual place in the training line waiting for this little get-together to end. She looked down at Finley, who was looking back at her. He occasionally glanced over at the scene but seemed totally disinterested. His eyes rotated between Amy’s face, her hand and the pouch tied at her waist, which contained the bag of treats for today’s class.

  She reached in the pouch, picked out a treat and handed it to him. Looking back at the scene against the wall, she noticed three or four new faces among the guests. Although not in uniform, she figured they were probably all vets. Each of the men looked to be in their mid-to-late twenties, except for the one with the beard who seemed at least ten years older. Then again, she always had a hard time judging the age of guys with beards. The new vets had that serious look in their eyes she had grown accustomed to. For some, the look came off a little more ominous. Maybe troubled was a better word.

  From everything she’d read, they had a right to be.

  That look contrasted the countenance on the other vets’ faces, the ones petting their future dogs. Their eyes were bright, their faces smiling. They looked mostly…normal.

  But she remembered what they’d looked like when they had first arrived. Just like the new guys did. Same firm expressions. What a difference these dogs were already making. She had to remember that, stay focused on that thought. For Finley’s sake, and for whichever vet wound up taking him home.

  Finley looked at all the commotion across the room. It was something of a familiar scene now but still, when it happened, he never understood it. On most days, things were the same. The same dogs with the same women. They spent some of the time all together, and some of the time with just their trainers.

  Finley liked the other dogs for the most part, especially Charlie. But he loved the times with Amy the most. Amy was the best. When he was with her, anyone else could be around, and he was fine. When she was gone, he mostly just waited until she returned, however long it took.

  He still remembered Chaz and, when he did, it was a happy moment. Although he couldn’t remember Chaz’s scent anymore, and that saddened him a little. The truth was, he liked Amy as much as Chaz, if not more. It wasn’t that she treated him better; they both treated him well. But Amy treated him well a lot more often. He wasn’t sure of this, but it seemed like Finley had been with Amy longer than anyone.

  Maybe it just seemed that way, because they were together all the time. Whatever it was, he didn’t remember ever being this happy so often, and for so many days in a row.

  Suddenly, the woman named Bridget spoke. All the dogs heard it; some of the people did. A few moments later she spoke again. Now everyone turned and paid attention. Finley could only pick up a few of the words, but he understood she wanted all the dogs and owners to line up like they did every day.

  He knew what came next. He was used to it by now. They would go through all the basic commands as they walked back and forth across the room. It was kind of a special time because, for once, he understood everything the humans wanted him to do. Everything made sense. He could tell all the other dogs enjoyed this time, too.

  The best part was that he got to do this with Amy.

  Well, that and all the treats.

  For the next twenty-five minutes, Amy and the other trainers led their dogs through a variety of routines that hit on all the behaviors and commands they had learned. This was mainly just to reinforce things, but it also served to give the new veterans a chance to see the dogs in action.

  It never failed to impress them. It still impressed her; not just that the dogs were so well-trained, but that she was right there doing her part. Doing all the dog trainer tasks, understanding it all, and able to teach Finley how to do it all, as well.

  The only unnerving thing at the moment was that one of the new veterans clearly had his eye on Finley. And only Finley. It was the guy with the beard. Not that the beard mattered. It was the guy’s eyes. They looked so…serious, and penetrating. He never smiled. She looked at the other vets, the newer ones who’d come today. They were all smiling. They weren’t when they came in here, but they were now.

  But not him.

  She tried not to let it distract her. She tried to think of the little talk Rita had given her a little while ago. When Amy came in here today, she was mentally preparing herself to let Finley go. Rita was right. He couldn’t stay here with her permanently.

  Her sentence would be up in a few months, but that didn’t matter. There was no way they would let Finley stay here with her until then. It was too absurd to even bring up. It would be much better for Finley to go home with a vet, not brought back to the Humane Society and adopted later by a total stranger.

  But now, looking at the bearded guy, she wasn’t so sure.

  As she walked Finley back across the room, she glanced at him again. Still staring at Finley. Still giving her the creeps. There was no way she was letting Finley go home with him. She glanced at Rita. Rita wasn’t seeing any of this. Surely, after spending all this time training Finley, Amy would have some say in who took him home. How could it be right to let just anyone take him?

  So what if a vet wanted to be with the dog. What if the dog didn’t want to be with him? Finley was too special. She couldn’t let him go to just anyone. The new owner had to be someone equally special. Someone who would love Finley the way he deserved to be loved. The way she loved him.

  They came to a stop, back to the place in line where they had begun. Miss Bridget shouted out the command, “Finish your dog.”

  Amy looked down at Finley and said, “Finish.” But of course, he was already obeying the command on his own. He circled around and behind her, then came up by her side and sat perfectly straight. She reached down and gave him a treat.

  She looked over at the vet. He wasn’t smiling. Still had that stern look on his face. But at least he was nodding.

  So you approve, do you? Too bad.

  I don’t approve of you.

  29

  Now that he’d finished mowing for the day, Chris did all the things he needed to disengage the mower blades. He raised them up so that he could ride this
big monster a little faster as he headed back to the maintenance building. For the last month or so, Tom and Jed had cleared him to pretty much use all the different lawn equipment on all the different grass areas without any restrictions.

  Like Tom said, it wasn’t rocket science.

  During those first few weeks, there were times though when Chris wondered if he would ever master it all. He felt especially bad on one occasion, two weeks in, when Jed had to run him down on a golf cart to get him to stop mowing at the wrong height. Chris had forgotten to raise the blades when he’d moved from the fairway to the rough, and he’d screwed this up for three holes before Jed stopped him.

  It was a pretty serious mistake, but Jed didn’t ride him too much about it. After all, they were in Florida. In a week it would grow right back. Besides, most of the golfers would probably be happy with the blunder. He’d inadvertently widened the fairways, which would make all their drives roll a few yards further and set things up for an easier shot.

  But within a few weeks’ time, Chris wasn’t making amateur mistakes anymore. In fact, the entire job had slid into a rather easy-going routine. That brought on a new set of challenges.

  Boredom.

  He didn’t have to think about the job all that much anymore, which left his mind unoccupied for large stretches of time, free to drift into all kinds of trouble. Especially on the monster mower he was riding in now. It had a big comfy chair and was enclosed in plexiglass. Between that and the earmuffs, it was almost totally silent inside. It even had air-conditioning, which further added to his nearly zombie-like state.

  Sometimes the flashbacks were almost unbearable.

  Happened again about an hour ago. He wasn’t sure what set it off. But all of a sudden, he was lying flat on his back in the helicopter, just after he’d stepped on the mine. The whole thing was vibrating. Guys worked on him furiously. He saw the look in their eyes, when they looked down at his leg. He could feel everything he felt at that moment. All the fear, all the pain, all the confusion.

  He’d only snapped out of it after running over a big tree branch. Thank God it was there. He had been heading right for a retention pond. He’d slammed on the brakes and stopped less than three feet from the water’s edge.

  Rounding the last cluster of trees, he could see the maintenance building up ahead. There were no worries about being distracted now, with all the golfers and golf carts to navigate around.

  After a few minutes, he reached the parking lot, felt a slight bump as he transitioned from grass to pavement. The main garage door was already open. It was a clear shot to ride right in, but since there were nothing to block his way, he carefully spun the mower around and backed into its designated place. He put it in neutral, set the brake and turned it off.

  As soon as he opened the plexiglass door, the heat and humidity rushed in. As he stepped down to ground level, Jed came up behind him.

  “You’re getting to be like an old pro on that thing. I saw how you backed it in. All in one smooth move.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty much getting like you said it would be when I first started.”

  “Like driving your car,” Jed said. “I’m also noticing how quickly you can get up and down in that thing now compared to when you first started. How’s your leg holding up?”

  “Fine.” Thankfully, that was the truth. “Not really given me any problems at all, especially with this mower. The pedals are way easier than the other mowers. But even they don’t bother me much anymore.”

  “Yeah,” Jed said, “this one’s definitely the dream machine. Better be, considering how much they paid for it.”

  Chris nodded. Then he had a thought, wondered if he should bring it up to Jed.

  They stood there staring at each other for a moment. Jed finally said, “Something on your mind?”

  “How long were you doing this job before they let you start doing…other things?”

  “Two years, almost.”

  That’s what Chris remembered.

  “Why? Starting to get too easy?”

  “Starting to. I just thought it might be nice to mix up the mowing with some other things. Break up the monotony a little. I ride by, see guys planting shrubs and flowers, laying down fertilizer, aerating the greens.”

  Jed looked at him a moment. “Idleness is the devil’s workshop.”

  “Something like that,” Chris said.

  “Too much time on your hands opens a door for the PTSD.”

  Chris sighed. That was it.

  “We can talk to Tom about it. I don’t know what he’ll say. In the meantime you might try something that worked for me. At least some of the time. You got a smartphone, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you can do this. Start listening to podcasts. There’s a ton of them on the internet. Mostly free. Covering all kinds of topics. Anything you’re interested in, or even curious about. Another thing I would sometimes do, still do sometimes…listen to books on tape. If you can get deep in thought about something harmless, your mind can’t slip into trouble so easy. Listening to books can be fun, the good ones anyway. Kinda like listening to old-time radio shows. They got actors doing the narration. Use different voices for all the different characters. You should try it sometime.”

  Chris had never done either of these things before. “How much do these books cost?”

  “If you don’t get the CDs, they don’t cost much at all. Go on Amazon and check it out. There’s a bunch on there for free, or just a couple of bucks. Some of the big name authors cost more. But you can try it out on the cheaper ones, see if you like the idea. Just remember to check out the reviews first, so you can steer clear of the duds.”

  “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

  “Still want to talk to Tom about…doing other things?”

  “I think I’ll wait on that. Give this a try first.” He glanced at his watch. “Better go, time to clock out.”

  After doing that, he headed toward his car thinking about what Jed had said. He wasn’t sure it would solve his problem, but he was willing to try anything that might help.

  As he closed the car door and put the key in the ignition, that anxious feeling started coming over him. Almost a claustrophobic thing, like the sides of the car were closing in on him. He quickly opened the door and got out, walked a few steps away from the car.

  Take some deep breaths. Slow your heartbeat down. There’s nothing going on. Nothing to be afraid of.

  After a few minutes pacing around, it started to subside. He walked back to the open car door, deciding if he was ready to climb back inside.

  30

  The first half of the car ride home went smoothly. Chris listened to a conservative talk radio host and a liberal guest debating climate change. He wasn’t sure who was winning the argument and didn’t really care. The information that he’d picked up on the issue seemed pretty conflicting, and he rather doubted he could do much to improve the situation if he became a hardliner for either side.

  What he mainly liked was that it kept his mind engaged. Listening to music helped sometimes, but he found that too many songs talked about love and romance. That and couples spending the night together. He was in no shape to pursue a romance right now, so why torture himself listening to songs that stirred him in that direction.

  Pulling into a 7-Eleven located about midway to his apartment, he turned off the car. He just needed to pick up a few things. Several full-size grocery stores were even closer to home, but he had a problem with the crowds. He paid a little more for things here, but the cost to his peace of mind in the big stores was far greater.

  Even here, he paused before getting out of the car, sizing up any possible danger zones within his field of vision. This wasn’t a bad section of town, even nicer than the area he lived. That fact offered no comfort. He wished it did. He wished he could force himself to accept the likelihood that he was in no danger here, nor anywhere else in this town; that it was a near-certainty he’d never be in the kind
of danger he’d experienced in Afghanistan ever again.

  Still, he gave the whole place another thorough review. He carefully stepped out of the car, wincing a little as he put his full weight on the leg. A little sore today for some reason. He checked out the parking lot, the area around the gas pumps.

  Convinced it was okay to proceed, he closed the car door and headed into the store.

  Chris made it home to his apartment safe and sound.

  His time in the 7-Eleven had gone fine, right up until he’d gotten in line at the cash register. A short, elderly woman had stood in line in front of him. But then the front door opened, and in walked some dark-skinned Arab-looking guys. Three of them. Totally fit the profile. Mid-to-late twenties. Just guys, no wives or children with them. Sounded like they were speaking Arabic or Pashto, he couldn’t tell which.

  It certainly wasn’t English.

  Coming in the door, they were joking and laughing until they saw him in line. Then they straightened up and got serious, quickly looked away after making eye contact. Of course, it might’ve been the look he had been giving them. His counselor said sometimes when he was struggling like this, he gave a look that was pretty menacing.

  Until he paid his bill, he’d kept an eye on them. Even after getting into his car, he sat there watching them. They were just getting hot dogs, burritos, and Big Gulps. He finally decided, they were harmless. They weren’t carrying any weapons, not wearing any explosive vests.

  Heck, for all he knew, they could be from India. Maybe they were speaking Hindi. The point was, they weren’t bad guys. They were just…guys. Stopping at a 7-Eleven for stuff, like he was. Not carrying out some terrorist agenda.

  He walked across his living room and set the things he bought on the counter. Now, safe within the confines of his apartment, he started breathing a little easier. A wave of exhaustion suddenly came over him. He rested both hands on the counter. Apparently he was more tired than hungry. Was he more tired out from working all day, or from the workout he’d just been through at the store?