Page 78 of The Way Back Home

It’s not the first time I’ve been inside Dalton’s house. I drove him home after pancakes last Sunday with Xena and he invited me in, but walking in now I feel uneasy, and I shiver despite the sweltering heat. The man has no electricity, no phone, and no means of communication with the outside world. I don’t want to leave him here alone, but I don’t see what choice I have. I can’t take him back to Tanglewood, not like this; he could lash out and hurt Bettina, and I won’t have that on my conscience. But I don’t know what else to do. It’s a one-room shack with one couch and no bed—there isn’t even so much as another armchair to sit in. There’s a tiny kitchenette, and it’s as clean and uniform as any Marine’s room would be, but it’s hardly a home, and apart from Xena’s dog bowls and the folded up bedding sitting on the end of the sofa, you’d never know anyone lived here.

Dalton sits on the couch while Xena attempts to nudge his lap, a trick we teach the dogs to distract their handler from themselves. Today, it isn’t working, and I can see how frustrated Xena’s becoming with his lack of response. She paces, she nudges, and when all that doesn’t work, she climbs on into his lap and demands his attention by barking. Dalton absentmindedly scratches behind her ears, and she pants, but I can tell from the way she bows her head and whines that she knows as well as I do that he’s not responding to her the way he should.

“Listen, I can give you the number of a great psychologist—”

“You t-t-think I need someone else inside my head, p-p-poking around and p-p-probing, handing me another b-b-bottle of pills to swallow?”

“You need to listen to your doctors, and you need to talk to someone.”

“I need t-t-to be left a-a-alone.”

I sigh. “Well, unfortunately for you, I can’t do that. I care about what happens to you, Dalton—we all do.”

He shakes his head and extricates Xena from his lap, setting her down on the floor so he can lie out on the couch, and I can take a hint. Emotional episodes like the one he just had outside Jesse’s take it out of you, and I know he probably just wants to sleep it off.

“Take the day off tomorrow. I’ll be back to check on you after the shelter closes. But you come by Tanglewood if you need me, you hear?”

“Y-y-yes ma’am,” he whispers without opening his eyes, and I motion for Josiah to head out the door while I scratch behind Xena’s ears and fill her bowl with fresh water and dry food. I take one last look at the man sprawled out on the couch, and for the first time in fifteen years, I begin to doubt my ability to help anyone.

I know my program works. We’ve saved thousands of ex-servicemen and women, and yet everywhere I turn in this town it feels as if I’m banging my head against brick walls and still never making any leeway. I’ve been so distracted with August and everyone else since the moment I arrived that I feel as if I’m forgetting why Paws for Cause is so important for Magnolia Springs. I’m preoccupied, spread too thin. I’m failing Dalton—and possibly August too—and I don’t know how much longer I can hide the fact that I’m in way over my head.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Olivia

THE NEXT DAY, BETTINAcolors her Frozen book at the table as I top and tail the beans for supper. I still can’t look her brother in the eye, and we haven’t said two words to each other since the incredible sex at the very table I’m leaning on. Josiah is helping August in the front yard, and Bett has been talking my ear off. From outside, the crunch of tires over the unsealed drive can be heard. I glance at the clock and wonder who could be calling right on supper time, and then when I hear the sheriff and Josiah raising their voices, fear twists my stomach.

I wipe my hands on a dish towel and glance at Bett. “Honey, can you take these things on up to your room?”

“But you said I could help you.”

“And you can, but I need a clear table, and I need to talk to the sheriff with your brother first, okay?”

“Ohwkay, Wivvie,” she mumbles and slides off the chair, carrying her coloring upstairs to her room. I take a deep breath and head outside. August is shouting now too, his face red, and his strong features pulled into an angry expression.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. That woman’s done nothing but good for Josiah since you introduced them. Hell, all she’s done from the second she arrived is give her free time, her heart, to everyone who needed it, and now you come out here accusing her of something sick and vile? She looks on both of those boys like sons, and you’re damn lucky she does, or you’d probably be a nephew short. You make him go back to that house, and that’s what you’re handing him—a death sentence. Either he comes out of there in a body bag or wearing cuffs as he’s carted off to jail.”

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