Page 125 of Unexpected Redemption

I sputter the only words I can force out through this frozen block of sadness in my throat. “Was it a black dog?”

Sawyer’s face screws up comically. “Super random question.” He grows serious again, his eyes losing focus while he searches for an answer. “It was a long time ago. I can’t recall if he mentioned the color of the dog.”

“Why?” Sammy asks me, all traces of her sarcasm a distant memory.

I wave my fingers in front of my face, drying my tears before they screw up my mascara. “He said...” My chin wobbles. “He wants us to get a black dog when we get a new house.”

Almost instantly, tears well up in Sammy’s eyes. “Oh my fucking hell.” She does the same finger fanning the eyes thing I did a moment earlier. “Shit,shit. I don’t want to crybeforetherapy.But oh fuck. Poor Tomer.”

Eyes bulging, she digs her fingertips into her chest over her heart. “What is this pain?Argh. I feel like the Grinch. My heart. I didn’t even have a heart a year ago, and now it’s breaking for Tomer.”

It’s a bit odd how she’s being overdramatic and sarcastic but also genuinely overcome with grief for Tomer. I’ll dissect how she pulls both off so effortlessly later.

For now, I need to find a tissue because I’m officially blubbering like a baby.

Sawyer kneels in front of his fiancée, offering her a hug, which she eagerly accepts. “Princess, don’t cry. Tomer’s fine. He’s in love and about to become a daddy. Plus, he’s got his Redleg family.” He pats her back, stroking it soothingly. “Everything is okay now.”

Through a sniffle, Sammy whines, “And we’ll get him a dog?”

“We can get him a dog, princess. Do you want a dog too? I can get you one as well. Any kind you want.”

He’s fathering his wife right now, comforting her while her pregnancy emotions run wild. It’s kind of adorable, helping take the focus off my own sadness. Nonetheless, my tears keep flowing like they’re trying to fill a river.

Sammy must realize I’m crying by my lonesome because she pops her head off Sawyer’s shoulder and flings her arm toward me. “Bring it in, Lettie. Hug this one out.”

With happiness sprouting in my soul, I enter the awkwardly positioned, three-person embrace.

When we return to our own personal space bubbles, Sawyer grabs some tissues off the coffee table and passes them around.

After a half dozen sniffles, some of my twang sneaks out. “If ya’d let me handle the dog situation, I’d be much obliged.”

They nod in silent agreement.

“Thank you,” I mutter, my tears finally slowing.

Suddenly, Sammy bounces like she was zapped with a jolt of electricity. “Oh! Sue has a dog.”

Has this woman gone mad? Is pregnancy hysteria still a thing like it was in the olden golden days?

“I ain’t gonna take Sue’s dog,” I tell her.

She snorts, her features gradually returning to their typical vibrancy. “No. I mean she’s training a dog. And it’s black.”

“Oh yeah. She’s a dog trainer like her brother.”

Last week, Sue and I were chatting in the break room about this. She and her brother Nick partner with local kill shelters. They find sweet and loving dogs in desperate need of training. Once they’re taught basic obedience commands, it’s easier for them to be adopted.

The three of us remain thoughtful and silent for a while. The noise from the nearby road provides a soundtrack for my wandering thoughts.

Eventually, Sammy says, “So fucking glad Tomer’s dad is dead.”

Sawyer and I both nod in agreement.

“Good riddance,” she grumbles under her breath.

“Do you know when he died?” I ask Sawyer.

Tilting his chin upward, he flitters his gaze around the ceiling. “Um. Let’s see. We were newly in the Rangers when it happened. Had to be about fifteen years ago.”

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