Dark Destiny by Avelyn Paige

Delilah

Call after call,after call. That’s all I’ve done today, field phone calls. From the moment I woke up, until I landed in my office after doing food and water checks on the kennels, I haven’t stopped working. Running a not-for-profit private animal rescue will do that to you. If you’d told me after all those years at college, studying to be a physical therapist, that this is where I would end up, I’d have laughed in your face. But even with days like today, I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Well, until Ashley sheepishly pops her head through the door of my office with a single white piece of paper in her hand and sorrow in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Delilah. I have to put in my notice.” She slides the piece of paper onto my desk, but I don’t even look at it—I can’t. If I do, it’ll make this real.

“You’re quitting?” I clarify, my voice almost trembling.

“I love volunteering here, but I’m moving to Dallas with Rick,” she informs me, grimacing. “Rick proposed last night and asked me to go with him. Friday has to be my last day. I know it’s not a full two weeks’ notice, but I am a volunteer.”

“He proposed? That seems sudden.” She barely knows the guy, or so I thought. They’d met online maybe three months ago. He was fresh off his second divorce after leaving the military, and she had decided to dip her toes back into the dating pool after a few years of the single life. If you ask me, this decision has “disaster” written all over it. But it’s her life, not mine.

Ashley slides her left hand forward, and sure enough, there’s a giant diamond sparkler on her ring finger. Giant isn’t really the appropriate word to describe the behemoth rock, though. Rick was definitely going for the “shock and awe” factor with her ring.

“I’m so happy for you,” I lie, forcing a smile on my face. Stepping forward, I pull her into a tight hug, thinking, silly girl. I step away, and she beams back at me.

“I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I love him.” Her smile dims. “I just wish I didn’t have to leave Austin.”

“Are you sure you can't stay for a few more weeks? Rick will need to get settled into his new job, right?”

“You know I would stay if it were possible. I love this place, love volunteering with you, but Rick really wants me to drive up with him and start house hunting. The temporary housing is only available for a month, tops, so we’re going to have to find something fast. I know this is going to leave you shorthanded, but I really have to go.”

Shorthanded is an understatement, but that’s how it goes when you can only offer volunteer positions. People weren’t lining up for long hours and zero pay these days. With our expanding prison program, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack to find someone willing to spend a couple hours a week working directly with the animals and the inmates. Ashley is, well, was that needle for me. She took over the local program at the Travis County Jail after we got it started, and after a few years, we expanded into the penitentiary program, which I run. Doing both without her will be nearly impossible.

“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “But that’s not a problem you need to worry about. I’ll figure something out—I always do.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

I think quietly to myself before I answer her. “Could you maybe write up a summary about your work at the jail? The people you’ve been working with, and any details that you can think of for the person who will be taking over for you there.”

“Of course! I can get started on that right now.”

“That would be great.” I pause. “I’ll miss you, but I’m happy for you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” A tear falls down her cheek, but she quickly wipes it away. “I’ll go get started on that report for you.” With a smile, she slips out of my office.

The second she leaves, my head drops. How am I going to do this without her? Ashley is my second-in-command, my most reliable employee, and in a few short days, she’ll be leaving. I know if her position here was a paying one, she would most likely stay, but our budget barely covers the rent on our main building and the supplies for the dogs. The extra income from the jail program supplied by our local government padded it, but only slightly. Just enough to cover buying the additional van and paying for our gas. If it hadn't been for my inheritance from my late grandfather, I’d be homeless myself instead of living in my parents’ old Volkswagen camper van on the rescue’s property.

Shaking off the sense of dread about how I’m going to make this work, I immerse myself in the pet adoption applications I found on my desk when I came in. There were dozens for the litter of puppies that had been dumped over the weekend off the interstate, and only one for one of the older dogs. The sad state of rescues. Everyone wanted cute, cuddly puppies, and not the senior or special needs dogs who deserved to be in their forever homes too.

My ringing phone draws my attention away from the applications. Grabbing up the receiver, I greet, “Austin Animal Rescue.”

“Hey, Delilah,” a familiar voice replies.

“Maria, how are you doing? How’s Popeye fitting in with your family?”

A few weeks ago, she and her son had come to the shelter and adopted our longest resident, Popeye, a one-eyed pit mix who needs extra care after he and four other dogs were brought to us after being used as bait dogs by a dog fighter. He was thriving here with the volunteers, but finding a home for him had been my mission over the last few years. He deserved to find his family.

“That’s why I’m calling…” Her voice trails off. Oh, no. I know that tone. Not again. “Popeye’s not really working out for us. We had an incident this morning.”

“An incident?”

“He destroyed all of my son’s toys and ripped our couch to shreds. I tried to correct him like we talked about, and he snarled at me. Tommy’s scared to death of him now.”

“Oh my goodness, Maria. You’re both okay, right?”

“We are. He scared us more than anything, but I can’t keep him.”

“If you’d like me to pick him up, I can come by.”

“That might be best for all of us. I’m really sorry about this. Everything was going fine until it wasn’t.”

“Sometimes, things don’t work out.” Story of the day, it seems. “Are you home now?”

“I am.”

“Let me get a few things together here, and I’ll come by to get him.”

“I really appreciate that.” She sighs in relief. “I really hate doing this, you know, but if he scares Tommy and can’t behave, our landlord will kick us out of our complex if he finds out he’s...” She trails off again, realizing the lie she’s just let slip. “Not friendly.”

“I understand,” I force out, hiding the disappointment in my voice. She assured me her apartment complex was okay with him being classified as a bully breed, but clearly, she lied on her application about that. “I’ll be over shortly.”

“Thanks again, Delilah.”

“Sure thing,” I mutter. Sparks of frustration prickle beneath my skin. I wish I could say this is a one-off, but with dogs like Popeye, it happens more than I care to admit. Adopters think they’ll fit right in and be a part of the family when, in fact, they need more time to adjust to their new surroundings and to create a routine of their own. They need months, not days or weeks. Every animal is different, and in this day and age, where everyone wants easy, Popeye doesn’t fit for them.

It’s dogs like Popeye that keep me going. The lost and lonely. Those deserving of love have never found it because they’re different—mold breakers.

Just like me.