Page 3 of The Bear's Second Chance Mate
“I’m sure Stanley can manage,” she said a little too quickly.
“But rabbits are fast,” the boy countered. “And what if it hides under a bush?”
The pitch of his voice rose slightly, his words tumbling faster now. Stanley sensed it. A tension building beneath the surface,like a balloon stretched too tight. Another wrong word and his mood could tip into tears or shouting. And he really didn’t want to be the cause of that.
Stanley raised his hands slightly and took a half-step back. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “I can manage. Really.”
“Mom,” the boy said, voice strained.
Her eyes flicked to her son, and in that second, Stanley knew she saw the signs, too. The slight twitch in his hands, the wobble in his bottom lip. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just a kid being stubborn. This mattered to him.
She exhaled slowly, then gave a reluctant nod. “I guess…we could help out. Just to catch the rabbit.”
Stanley’s face lit up. “Great!” he said, too loudly, too brightly.
“Great!” the boy echoed, matching his tone with wide-eyed enthusiasm.
“Maybe we should introduce ourselves. Stanley.” He held out his hand, wanting to experience that first touch.
But it was the boy who stepped forward and shook his hand. “I’m Oli. And this is my mom, June.”
“Good to meet you, Oli.” Stanley shook the boy’s hand, his expression solemn. “And good to meet you, June.”
At last, his bear sighed happily.
“Shall we?” Stanley held up the crate as he let go of Oli’s hand and headed back out of the gate.
Oli followed close behind, while June hesitated, as if she were still not sure this was a good idea.
But it’s the best idea, Stanley’s bear declared.
He was certain June did not echo that sentiment, but with a resigned sigh, she followed after them.
Together, the three of them crossed the quiet cul-de-sac. The garden at number 21 was wilder than June’s, with tangled flowerbeds and a lopsided wooden arch marking the entrance to the back gate. A faded sign near the door read:“Beware—Retired History Teacher. Dates are not debatable.”
Stanley knocked gently, but before he could call out, the gate creaked open from the other side.
“About time,” came a familiar voice. “Thought I’d end up catching it myself.”
Mrs. Abernathy stood in the gap, one hand on the gate and the other holding a gardening trowel. Her sunhat was slightly askew, and a large pair of reading glasses sat halfway down her nose. She squinted at Stanley, then at the others.
“I texted Finn,” she said. “He said you’d be by. But that was nearly an hour ago!”
“Sorry for the delay. I had to shut up the store, and then Finn sent me to the wrong house,” Stanley replied. “Twelve instead of twenty-one.”
Mrs. Abernathy sniffed. “Figures. That boy mixed up the Tudors and Stuarts three years in a row. Smart as a whip, but only when it suits him.”
Stanley smiled. Oh yeah, he remembered Mrs. Abernathy from school. “Is the rabbit still here?”
“Oh, it’s here,” she said, stepping aside and waving them in. “Nibbled through my petunias before settling in under the rhododendrons. I’d have caught it myself, but these knees aren’t what they used to be.”
“I’m happy to take it from here,” Stanley offered, holding up the crate. “And I brought backup.”
“Backup?” Mrs. Abernathy echoed.
Oli stepped forward, his expression solemn. “I want to help.”
“Well.” Mrs. Abernathy looked Oli up and down. “That’s the spirit. This way!”
