Knitted Hearts by Amber Kelly

Sonia

“Edith, are you ready?” I bellow as I enter the door to Walker’s mom’s home.

“Yes, dear. I’ll be out in a minute,” she calls from the back bedroom.

I make my way in and check the cabinet beside the refrigerator. All of her medications are stored there, and I set to filling her weekly pill dispenser so that she doesn’t have to try to read each bottle and figure out her dosage.

When she joins me, she is as pretty as a picture in a light-blue dress and navy shawl.

“Well, don’t you look stunning this morning!” I praise as she sits at the table.

She offers me her hand to prick her finger and check her blood sugar level before I load a syringe and administer her daily insulin dose.

“Your sugar level is so good. I’m very proud of you,” I tell her as I remove my gloves and dispose of the needle.

“I feel good. I’ve had an extra spring in my step all week,” she informs me.

“Do you need a ride to church?” I ask.

I’m never sure if she wants to go or not. Each week is different, depending on how she feels, but judging by her state of dress, I assume today is a church day.

“No, thank you, dear. Mr. Reynolds asked to escort me to services today, and then we are going to have a picnic in the park. I made potato salad,” she says.

Mr. Reynolds is one of her neighbors, and the two have been spending more and more time together. I have a suspicion that he is responsible for that spring in her step.

“That sounds nice,” I encourage.

“Doesn’t it?” She beams.

“I’ll just come back and check on you in the morning, then. You can tell me all about your hot date over coffee.”

I pat her hand and give her a wink, and a slight blush tinges her cheeks.

“And you’ll tell me all about your hot date last night,” she replies.

Edith is the one and only person I told that I was having dinner with Foster last night. I was bursting to tell someone, but I didn’t want my friends or my mother to make more out of it than it was, so yesterday morning, while we were out, doing her shopping, I told her how I was nervous to be going on my first date in years.

“I will,” I agree.

I help her gather her things and walk her over to Mr. Reynolds’s porch before I head back into town.

Brandt and Bellamy are sponsoring a pet adoption drive at the clinic this afternoon, and I promised Bells I’d stop by and see the pups and kittens that needed a home.

I park at home and walk down to the clinic. It is a whirl of activity with parents chasing excited children, moving from pen to pen, petting puppies of all shapes and colors.

I stand to the side and watch as one little boy picks up a puppy that doesn’t look to be much bigger than him. He squeals in delight as the brown-and-white pup squirms and twists in his hold, trying to lick the chocolate-milk mustache from his mouth.

A moment later, Bellamy appears from down the hallway, and she locks eyes with me. She looks a bit overwhelmed as she approaches.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she says as she hugs me.

“Looks like you have a good turnout,” I tell her.

“Not good enough. If we don’t adopt out all these little critters, they are going home with us until we can find them new homes,” she informs me.

“What?”

“Yeah, the shelter in Montebello had to shut its doors because it was short of funding. These little guys were going to be put down if we didn’t rescue them. I just can’t stand the thought of any of them not finding new humans,” she says as a girl with a white kitten tugs at her skirt.

“What’s her name?” she asks.

“I call her Snowball, but if you take her home with you, you can choose any name you want for her.”

“I like Snowball,” the girl says, and then she runs off to find her parents to no doubt beg to be the fluffy kitty’s new momma.

“Well, show me what you have,” I tell Bells.

I have wanted a dog to keep me company at home. I’ve just been worried that I’m too on the go to be a proper pet owner.

“We have some older puppies in here. Follow me,” she says as we walk down the hall to one of the larger exam rooms, closed off with a gate in the doorway.

Inside are about a dozen of the cutest dogs I’ve ever seen. A couple are curled together in a corner, sleeping, while the others are bouncing around, pawing and gnawing at one another.

“I wanted to introduce you to that one.” She points to a cream-colored floof with a patch of brown surrounding its left eye and each of its paws. Its coat is long and wavy, and it has a tiny brown nose.

“Oh, it’s adorable,” I tell her.

“It’s a female labradoodle. She’s sixteen weeks old, and she’s had all her shots. She’s teething, but she seems to be handling it well. They are very mild-tempered, love their humans, and ride easy so that you could take her with you on house calls. She is just the sweetest thing, and they don’t shed and are hypoallergenic, so your patients shouldn’t have a problem being around her.” She drives home the sale.

“How big will she get?” I ask.

“Judging by her age and weight, Brandt is guessing she is a medium breed, so she’ll probably end up somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five pounds. So, not too big, not too small.”

“Bellamy, can you come to the office for a second?” Elaine, Brandt’s mother, calls out.

“Be there in a sec,” Bells answers before turning back to me. “If you’re not sold, look around; any of these guys would make wonderful companions. I’ll be right back,” she says before leaving me with the group and taking off down the hallway.

I step over the gate and walk into the midst of the room. I’m instantly surrounded by a barrage of puppies, fighting for my attention. I don’t know which one to pick up first when I hear a deep voice from the doorway.

“I think you might have to take them all home.”

I look up to see Foster propped in the doorway, watching us.

“I wish I could,” I say as I laugh at the antics of the babies at my feet.

Foster steps over the gate and joins me in the room.

I take a seat in the center and start petting the pups, trying to get them to settle.

The labradoodle fights her way to my lap. She places her paws on my chest and starts to lick at my jaw. Her sweet puppy breath is coming fast as she pants with excitement. I stroke her soft fur, and she rolls over in my lap to expose her tummy. I gently begin to scratch her, and her hind legs start to kick in ecstasy.

My heart instantly melts.

Foster stoops to one knee in front of us. “I think you’ve been claimed,” he says as he gives her a scratch behind the ears.

The pup closes its eyes and gives a growl of content.

“I think so,” I agree.

“So, what are you going to name her?” he asks.

“George,” I answer immediately.

He looks confused.

“George? I thought it was a female.” He looks down at her tummy, and the evidence confirms she is indeed a she.

“She is.”

He raises an eyebrow in question.

“Did you watch cartoons when you were a kid?” I ask.

“Um, sure,” he replies.

“When I was little, I was a Looney Tunes fanatic, and there was this one cartoon that had Hugo the Abominable Snowman on it. And he always wanted a bunny rabbit of his own. He comes upon Daffy Duck, and because of the sleeves of Daffy’s shirt, which are on his head, Hugo mistakes him for a bunny rabbit. He picks him up and starts hugging him and rocking him and saying he will love him and pet him and squeeze him and call him George,” I explain.

“I vaguely remember that,” he says.

“Well, I always said if I got my own puppy, I’d name him or her George.”

He laughs at that.

A black puppy that looks to be a boxer and maybe pit mix strolls up to his side.

Foster picks it up and turns the pup over. “It’s a boy. I guess I’ll have to name him Sue.”

I laugh. “What?”

“After the Johnny Cash song ‘A Boy Named Sue,’ ” he clarifies.

“You’re going to adopt that puppy and name him Sue?”

“I sure am. If your puppy has a cool backstory, mine needs one too. Besides, he’ll protect her at the dog park if any of the other dogs pick on her because she’s named George.”

Something about what he said touches me deeply, and that cold place in my chest, where my heart used to beat, warms.

“I guess that means we’ll have to have playdates at the park,” I point out.

“That’s what the boy and I are angling for—playdates at the park with two pretty girls. Isn’t that right, Sue?”

The puppy yaps his approval, and Foster grins down at him.

“That’s my boy.”

I carry George into her new home.

“This is it, baby girl. It’s not much, but it’s home,” I tell her as I set her on the rug in front of the couch.

After Elaine had Foster and me fill out all the necessary paperwork, he accompanied me to the pet shop a few doors down, and we both picked up the necessities for our new charges. Then, he helped me make two trips back to my apartment with the new crate, collar, puppy food, toys, and feather bed for the tiny queen of the castle. I waited on the sidewalk as he loaded the back of his truck with the same for his house, minus the feather bed—he said Sue was more of a wool-and-flannel bed type of guy.

George and I are just settling in when my phone starts ringing.

Bellamy is calling.

I press the green button, and before I can even say hello, she starts talking.

“What was that with you and Foster today?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Spill,” she demands.

“We were both there, adopting puppies, and he helped me pick up some supplies at the pet store.” I try to evade her question.

“And?” She persists.

“And I like him, okay? We went out to dinner last night, and it was fun,” I admit.

Silence.

“Hello? Bells? You still there?”

“Still here. I’m just processing what you said.”

I wait while I listen to her breathe over the line.

“I can’t believe you had a date with a hot guy and didn’t call your very best friend to tell her!” She finally releases her frustration.

“Well—” I start.

“Don’t well me. Does Elle know about this?” she asks.

“No.”

“That’s good.”

“But I thought you said you couldn’t believe I didn’t tell you guys?”

“If you had told one of us and not the other, then you’d have been in big trouble.”

“Didn’t I just do that?” I ask.

“Yeah, but I called and forced it out of you, so this conversation doesn’t count. Now, are you going out with him again?”

“Hmm, that’s the million-dollar question. It’s not like he asked me on another date, technically. He said he had a nice time, but was it as good a time as I did? Does he want to see more of me, or was he being polite when he mentioned taking me out again someday? I don’t know. He didn’t even ask for my phone number. Maybe he didn’t feel a spark or thought my life was too messy for him,” I tell her.

“Oh, please. Foster’s life is way messier than yours, and he sure didn’t try to avoid you at the clinic today. He’s interested. Hell, he’s been interested for a long time,” she points out.

“Do you think it’s really over with his wife?” I ask.

“Sonia, I don’t think it ever truly began with his wife.”

“But they’ve gone back and forth a lot over the years.”

“Yeah, they have, but honestly, I think, for him, it was more out of obligation than anything else. All he ever seemed was miserable in that relationship. He’s so much happier and carefree at the ranch when they are not together. The last time they tried to reconcile, and it didn’t take, I knew it was done, done.”

“I got that impression too,” I admit.

“He’s a good man. Easy on the eyes. And I’m pretty sure he has an avenue or ten to get your phone number if he wants it.”

“He did make tentative plans for a puppy playdate with George and Sue,” I confess.

“Uh-huh, he’s definitely got your number.”

I sigh into the phone. It’s good to talk to her about it all.

“Now, can we talk about those puppy names? What the hell is that all about?”