he knew that when broken people kept to themselves, holed up behind walls built to keep out hurt, eventually their family and friends, even the closest ones, stopped asking the hard questions and accepted the new, hollow versions, forgetting that at one time those wounded people were whole.
He got up from his chair and moved toward the couch to scratch Janie’s pink tummy, which she’d shamelessly turned over and exposed so that Avery could have the esteemed privilege of rubbing it.
He raised his eyes and watched as Avery pet Jane, admiring the way the dog’s gentle serenity seemed to seep into the woman’s weary bones.
“Tell you what—I had a long day and I’m hungry, so I’m going to start up a grilled cheese sandwich.” He watched Avery for any change in her expression, but her features remained still. “You’re welcome to join me if you want to, and I’d be happy to make two.”
She raised her eyes then and he was reminded of how blue they were, like shadowy mountaintops at dusk.
“I wasn’t always like this, you know,” Avery said, her voice so quiet he wasn’t sure the words were meant for him to hear.
Even though her gaze was on his, Isaac could tell her thoughts were far off somewhere he couldn’t reach. He’d seen the same look on many of the veterans he worked with at the training facility, and he’d learned not to push too hard. Sometimes it was best to stay silent and let the person decide how much he or she wanted to say or not say.
“I used to be strong. Independent.” She glanced away. “I can’t tell you how humiliating it is to be sitting here in your house, having to trust your word on how I got here.”
Isaac’s insides ached at her admission and he had the sudden urge to reach out and hold her hand. He wouldn’t, but he wanted to.
He’d always had an easier time relating to canines than to his own kind, a product of being homeschooled by a widowed young mom who’d been overwhelmed by the world outside their door, with only his older brother and a series of family pets to keep him company. He would never complain about his childhood. After all, it had been safer and saner than many of his friends’ and colleagues’, but it had also been lonely.
Ever since he’d moved away briefly for college and then come home to start a business, Isaac had longed for a family of his own. He wanted life to be much different from the way he’d been raised; he wanted kiddos running around shouting happily, dogs barking joyfully and, above all, lots and lots of laughter.
Most people wanted quiet when they came home at the end of a long workday, he thought with a chuckle, but Isaac craved noise.
He wasn’t sure what he could say, but he gave it a try anyway. “I know I don’t know you, so my saying so doesn’t mean much, but you have nothing to be embarrassed by.”
He looked up in time to see Avery shaking her head, but he went on, sharing things he rarely got a chance to. “You served your country with honor, and I can bet you dealt with a lot of things no one should ever have to, but that doesn’t mean you’re different than any other human being. People aren’t meant to be around the things I’m sure you were, and come out the same on the other side. War is bound to do some damage to a person’s soul. I don’t think anyone expects you to come back and pick up where you left off without a few hurdles to jump.”
Avery closed her eyes and then opened them slowly, regarding him with an expression he couldn’t read.
“Sometimes it feels like that’s exactly what they expect.”
“Well, they shouldn’t,” he responded. “And I think that’s just a product of not really being able to understand what you went through over there.”
Not wanting to say anything that would make Avery uncomfortable, that would make her retreat back into her shell, Isaac gave Jane one final pat and then headed off to the kitchen.
He’d pulled cheese and butter out of the fridge and was opening a wooden bread box when he heard her soft footsteps behind him. He tossed a welcome grin over his shoulder, pleased when he noticed that she wasn’t alone. Jane, his big, goofy sweetheart, had followed Avery and was glued to her side. It was one of the characteristics he loved most about dogs. They were quick to make friends.
“How are you so wise about this stuff?” Avery asked, giving him a sad little smile. “Did you serve, as well?”
He shook his head. “No, but in my work, I meet a lot of people who did, and I’ve learned a few things along the way.” He bit back the urge to mention the brother he’d lost; talking about what happened to Stephen would likely be unhelpful at that particular moment.
Her eyes, huge and dark blue in a small, lovely, heart-shaped face, were full of questions and she seemed almost eager, for the first time that evening, to talk with him.
“What kind of work do you do?” she asked, not meeting his eyes as she ran a finger along the glossy edge of the oak table in the adjoining breakfast nook.
“I own a dog-training facility. I opened it a couple of years ago and I have a few assistants now, other trainers. We do all kinds of work—basic obedience, scent, search and rescue—but my most recent project is working with veterans.”
“Do you mind if I ask, I mean, how well does that usually work? The vet-and-dog combination?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her sit down at the table and he began cutting squares of cheese off a block of cheddar.
Isaac gave a rough little laugh. “You’re not the only one who wants to know that,” he said. A lot of people—influential people—wondered the same thing, and soon Isaac hoped to have a way of answering that with his own research, so that he could raise the necessary funding to expand his project. A project that, thanks to great dogs and veterans willing to work hard to overcome their pain, had already changed several lives for the better. He enjoyed all kinds of training, but this particular sort had become his passion over the past couple of years.
“Quite well, actually.”
Avery’s forehead wrinkled in curiosity, which he took as an invitation to keep talking. Normally, he was a pretty quiet guy, even a little on the shy side, one might say, but when it came to his career, he could go on all day.
“Service animals make some of the best companions to soldiers who’ve returned from war carrying more than physical baggage. With the right training, they can be a huge asset to people dealing with past trauma or symptoms of PTSD, and they can be even better than medication at calming soldiers in the midst of panic attacks, or...even flashbacks.”
He wasn’t going to put a label on what had happened with Avery that night. He wasn’t a doctor and he didn’t have all the details, but his gut told him that’s what had occurred to her prior to him stumbling upon her in that ditch.
“Sorry if I sound like a public service announcement. I just care a lot about this stuff. It’s affected a lot of people I care about.”
Her shoulders let go of some of their tension as he spoke, and there was even a hint of hope in her eyes as he explained the process of rescuing dogs from the local shelter and giving them homes, purpose and new, full lives.
“So basically you’re saving two people at once,” she said, her eyes brighter than they had been since he’d met
