Baby, Hold On. Stephanie BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
more likely. I’m afraid it’s something serious, but I’m trying not to worry until Dr. Greenwood gets back to me with the test results.”
Barry nodded. “So what did Lacey have to say about Sheridan?”
Mike frowned. “She said he was scared.”
“Of what?”
“She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. What a crock.”
“Maybe,” Barry agreed. “But she comes to the training center to groom the dogs, and she’s good with them—even the bad-tempered ones.”
“Sheridan isn’t bad-tempered.”
“You know what I mean—the difficult trainees, the ones that are hyper or antisocial. Lacey has a way with them.”
Mike lifted his water bottle for a drink, then poured a few splashes over Sheridan’s head, since he couldn’t seem to put down the toy long enough to pant and cool himself down naturally. The dog skittered sideways, which only irritated Mike more. “This is why you asked me to bring Sheridan here, to see this Dr. Dolittle lady?”
“Of course not. Like you, I thought Sheridan was just getting lazy, being rebellious.” Barry nodded to the black Lab. “But it’s evident something’s wrong—he’s a different dog than I remember.”
Mike chewed on his tongue. “Like you said, Dr. Greenwood will figure it out.”
Barry clapped him on the back. “Probably. Let’s head back.”
They jogged back across the ridge at a slower rate. Far below them were the buildings that made up the town of Sweetness. Straight ahead in the distance lay another mountainous ridge.
“The town is sitting in a bowl,” Mike observed.
Barry nodded. “That’s why the first tornado did so much damage when it touched down. The mountain ridges contained it and the longer it spun, the more powerful it became.”
“You saw it?”
“I saw it coming,” Barry said, his expression tight, “after the warning alarm was sounded from the water tower.” He shook his head, obviously still moved by his memories. “The size and the force of that monster is still indescribable. It’s something I hope I never see again.”
“How did you ride it out?”
“I ran to Moon’s Grocery and Mr. Moon herded everyone into the basement. When the storm was over, though, we were trapped, buried alive.”
Mike’s step faltered. “Seriously? How’d you get out?”
“Emory Maxwell and Porter Armstrong were home on leave from the Army. They dug us out with little more than their bare hands. And there were stories like that all over town. I still can’t believe no one died that day. The town looked like a pile of matchsticks.”
“I saw the pictures—they’re brutal.”
“When my family left town to move to Atlanta, I didn’t think Sweetness would ever be habitable again, but the Armstrongs have done an amazing job.”
“Wait a minute—you said the first tornado. There were others?”
“I wasn’t here, but last year another twister set down, not quite as powerful as the previous storm, but by all rights, it should’ve done some serious damage.”
“It didn’t?”
“Only minor stuff—a testament to how structurally sound the new buildings are. The training facility is as solid as a bunker.” His voice resonated with pride.
“You’re happy here, I can tell,” Mike offered.
Barry didn’t bother hiding his grin. “I am. If I hadn’t come back after my injury, I wouldn’t have met Lora again, or become reacquainted with the Armstrong brothers. They donated the land to build the dog training center on the condition that I would run the place. I feel like I hit the jackpot.”
“You’ve worked for everything you’ve got, and sacrificed more than a man should have to. You deserve a good life.”
“Thanks,” Barry said. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Anyone special back in Columbus?”
Columbus, Georgia, was where Mike was stationed at Fort Benning. “No. You know how it is—too busy, and the travel is erratic.” And now he was too worried about Sheridan to even consider a serious relationship. He was afraid if he took his eye off his dog for even a few minutes, Sheridan would slide further away.
“All I know is that one of these days, a woman is going to bring you to your knees.”
“Hey, just because Lora has you in a bind doesn’t mean you have to wish it on me.”
“Lora has me exactly where I want to be,” Barry said with a goofy grin. “You should be so lucky. Aren’t you up for reenlistment soon?”
“Six months,” Mike confirmed.
“I hear they’re offering nice bonuses.”
“Yep.”
“What do you think you’ll do?”
Mike took another drink of water. “I might reclass.”
Barry’s eyes widened. “Change your specialty? Give up dog handling?”
Mike shrugged. “Maybe it’s time for a change.”
“You’re letting this situation with Sheridan get to you. If he doesn’t return to service, it has nothing to do with your ability as a handler.”
Mike worked his mouth back and forth. “Maybe it’s a sign.”
Barry gave a little laugh. “Now who sounds eccentric? You and Lacey Lovejoy might have more in common than you think. Come on, old man, pick up the pace!”
Dismayed by his buddy’s comment, Mike dug in, glad to suddenly be running too fast to necessitate a reply.
* * *
By the time he walked through the door of Molly’s Diner for breakfast, Mike had almost put his conversation with Barry out of his mind. He and Lacey Lovejoy had nothing in common.
The thought was reinforced when he spied her sitting at the counter, chatting with the bald cook, Clancey. Indeed, the woman was hard to miss, since she resembled a parrot with a perm. Inexplicably rankled, he took a seat at the opposite end and buried his face in a menu. But even from here, he could hear her tinkling laugh as she and the man discussed the similarities between, of all things, men and dogs. From the cook’s conversation, he was obviously gay, and the two were having a grand time one-upping each other with their jokes, prompting supportive comments from other customers sitting nearby, mostly single women.
“He’ll do anything for a treat,” Lacey said.
“He’ll bury his bone anywhere,” Clancey interjected, to uproarious laughter.
“He barks when another dog comes into his yard.”
“He’s loyal when you’re around, but roams when you’re gone.”
“He sniffs all your friends,” Lacey added, eliciting a burst of applause.
Mike frowned, not amused at the woman’s sense of humor. He glanced at his watch. Besides, didn’t she have a business to run? Maybe she wasn’t as much in demand as she was purported to be. Maybe she was all smoke and mirrors. Thankfully, the volley ended when Clancey returned to the grill, allowing Mike to peruse the blue plate special in relative peace.
“Good morning.”
He looked up to see Lacey standing there, in living Technicolor—a flowing turquoise skirt, a yellow peasant blouse, a flowered