for catching a glimpse of her personal pain when she had no desire to share such intimate details about herself. There was a brittle quality to her rigidly held composure, like someone whose hold on the fabric of life as she’d known it was slipping as it tore in two.
“Have you gone to see your father yet?” he asked, the question springing from his lips without conscious thought.
An iron curtain slammed behind her eyes and he had his answer. Disappointment welled in his chest but he couldn’t explain why. If the woman had no interest in seeing her father before he died, it was none of his business. Sure, it seemed heartless, but why should he care? His utmost concern was relieving his home of the dog that had seemed quite comfortable this morning laying beside his hearth. “Your dog is at my house. If you want to follow me I’ll take you to her.”
“She’s not my dog,” she corrected him.
“She is now.”
She conceded that small point, adding, “Well, only until I can find a suitable home for her. My life isn’t conducive to pets.”
He knew she worked for a magazine but he wasn’t sure in what capacity. Before he could ask, she answered what must’ve been the question in his eyes.
“I’m a photographer. I travel. A lot.”
“That’s right, American Photographic,” he said, recalling how difficult it had been tracking her down. “Real nice magazine.”
She accepted his compliment with a reluctant smile and he was struck by how she looked every inch the part of a sophisticated traveler. She could probably navigate a crowded airport terminal with ease and sleep just as comfortably in a hotel bed as her own. In her world, the word home was probably a relative term. He couldn’t imagine a life like that. “So, how long are you staying?”
She seemed startled by his question and she fumbled a little, causing a momentary break in her carefully held composure. “N-not long,” she answered, quickly regaining her equilibrium. “Um…the dog?”
In other words: Butt out of my business.
“I’ll get my coat,” he answered, prickling just a little at her subtle hint to back off, yet at the same time reluctantly intrigued by the questions that came to mind when he considered her attitude toward her father. He was smart enough to know that it was foolish to draw parallels between his problems with Danni and the damaged relationship Erin had with her father. The situations were likely not the same but he couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever come a time when Danni would refuse to see him at his darkest hour. The pain that went straight to his heart almost made him make a plea for Charlie’s case, but a quick reminder that it was none of his business kept him from making a fool out of himself.
Five minutes later Colin was pulling into his driveway while Erin’s sleek, black rented Tahoe came to a stop directly behind him. The storm had kicked up again, sending flurries of snow drifting to the ground, making him wonder whether or not Danni had remembered to take her woolen hat when she stomped off to school this morning. Probably not, which was why he decided at that moment, despite the glares he’d no doubt receive, to pick her up after school.
“Dog’s pretty easygoing,” he called over his shoulder as he trudged his way through the freshly fallen snow to his front door. “She might be a little hungry, though. I gave her some hamburger to tide her over.” He unlocked the door and waited for Erin to catch up. “She also seems to have some sort of hip dysplasia. You might want to have a vet check that out.”
“Hip dysplasia? Wonderful,” she said with a touch of frustration. She rubbed her arms for warmth despite her thick woolen peacoat. “Old and crippled. What are the chances of finding her a home within a few days?”
Not good, he communicated with a look.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, following him into the house. At the sound of the door opening, the dog raised her head and peered expectantly into the hallway. As if believing it was her job to greet guests, she struggled to her feet and walked over to them. Erin’s forehead furrowed and her gaze softened ever so slightly. She cast a worried glance his way. “She does seem a bit stiff… is there a vet in town who could look at her?”
Ridiculously relieved, he nodded. “Doc Archer can probably take a look at her first thing in the morning.” At her glance, he explained. “Doc closes shop at noon, and he’s the only vet in town.”
She accepted his answer, but from her expression he could tell she wasn’t pleased. It was clear she wanted her stay in Granite Hills to be as brief as possible and a crippled dog only hindered that plan.
“I figure you’ll be staying out at Caroline’s place?” he said, leaning down to gently click the leash into place and handing it to her.
“No,” she answered, the tone of her voice suggesting the thought was too much to bear. She added hastily, “There’s bound to be a hotel that has a room available. It’ll be easier if I stay in town.”
He frowned and she queried sharply, “What?”
“I don’t know how long you’ve been gone but around this time of year the hotels are all full. Winter Festival. It’s one of our biggest tourist attractions,” he said.
She swore under her breath. Obviously, she hadn’t taken that into consideration. Her voice took on an incredulous tone. “All the hotels? Even Buttercreek?”
“No, that one closed about a year ago. Mr. Grogan died from congestive heart failure and his wife went to live with their daughter over in Ironwood,” he answered, surprised by her stricken expression.
“I hadn’t heard,” she murmured, something, regret perhaps, catching in her throat. “The Grogans were nice people. They used to let me swim in their pool during the summer and Mrs. Grogan always had a small something for me at Christmastime. Well, that’s too bad about the hotel closing. It was a special place.”
He didn’t disagree with her. Danni had learned to swim in the Grogans’ pool. When Cappy Grogan died, he’d been one of the pallbearers.
Eyes suddenly clearing, Erin looked down at the dog, who was watching the exchange with a soft intelligence that was almost startling, and reluctantly relented, though he could tell it was the least desirable option. “I guess it’s back to Caroline’s then…for the time being,” she said, focusing for a moment on the leash in her hand before meeting his gaze again. “Thanks…for taking care of her.”
“No problem,” he answered, noting that the brief smile she offered was pained around the edges. “She’s a good dog. I hope you can find her a good home.”
“Me, too,” she said, sincerity evident in her tone, as she headed toward the door. Suddenly, she paused and twisted to face him wearing a drawn and pinched expression, as if whatever she was about to say tasted bitter on her tongue. “When I used to live here, the Barstow family owned the mortuary…is that still the place to go to make…funeral arrangements?”
He answered her with a short nod, his gut reacting to the almost palpable sense of sorrow that surrounded her like a cloud. She drew a deep breath, as if she needed the extra oxygen for strength, and offered her thanks in a husky murmur before turning and leading the old dog carefully down the snow-covered steps to the front walk. Within minutes they were gone.
He stared after
