Page 88 of Reclaimed

“Do you need any help?”

I glance over at her from the corner of my eye. “I’d love to have you there,” I say, reverting my gaze to the gravel road.

A silver gate up ahead blocks the rest of the long driveway. I hop out to key in the code in order to get moving again. Isla’s excitement in the passenger seat is palpable. Her energy invades the small cab, chasing away my insecurities some.

Her carefree attitude reminds me how I used to feel. Where I hope to get back to. I wish I could harness her positivity to imbue myself during some of those darker days.

Though they’re becoming less and less the more she’s around.

“Here’s my home away from home.”

“There they are!” she squeals and points to the excited dogs pacing around on the front porch.

“That’s Jude’s pack.”

“Those are all his dogs?”

I shift the car into park and kill the ignition. “They are. Those are the ones deemed unadoptable for one reason or another. They’re pretty special. He’s had to rehab most of them and grew pretty attached.”

She turns to me, tears shimmering in her eyes. “That’s so sad.”

“They don’t think so. He, and now Frankie, take really good care of them.” My tone softens.

“I’m just sad they started out in poor conditions.”

“Us Powells understand a thing or two about that.”

“And look at you all thriving now.”

The compliment slips into my heart for safekeeping. “Come on. They’re eager to meet you.”

We hop out. My shoulders tense as I step onto the familiar grounds. I haven’t been here in months. In some ways, nothing has changed. It’s like I’m here dropping off another stray or helping to process some intakes. But in other ways, I don’t even feel like the same person. That version of me doesn’t exist any longer.

As I take Isla’s hand and lead her up to the porch, I hope she can’t feel the sweat in my palms.

The enthusiastic yips and barks greet us on the front steps. The porch is gated to keep the dogs from running off without supervision. I slip the black latch through the hole, and guide Isla in front of me into the group of dogs.

“Down, down.” The gentle reprimand falls on stubborn ears. I block Isla’s belly with my arm. “You good?”

“This is heaven.” Her face flushes with excitement. “I’m okay. They aren’t jumping hard.”

Toyota puts his front paws on her thighs and licks her arm.

“That’s Toyota.”

“Hey, big boy.” She scratches him between his ears. “Another animal found in a vehicle?”

“Close. Dealership,” I laugh. “We have to get creative. Otherwise every dog would wind up named Bear and Cooper and Luna and Bella.”

“I thought you’d see more Busters and Maxes.”

“Oh we have. This is Ramona.” I pick up the small French bulldog. “Ashe is the big white one. She’s Jude’s favorite. That’s Grizz. Loofah. Saint. Dottie. Willow.” I point at each dog as I name them, faltering at the medium sized pepper colored heeler. “Remy.”

Isla clocks the change in my tone. “He’s beautiful.” She crouches and holds out her hand.

The guy is wary after the events earlier this year. He was with me when the gun went off, but thankfully neither he nor Ashe was harmed. With ears pinned flat, he slinks closer, his eyes never leaving Isla’s outstretched fingers.

The cautious Heeler sniffs her hand, and nudges it with his snout. After a moment, he butts his head underneath in a clear signal for affection.

---