Page 13 of A Forever Home
Roman had felt something when he’d touched Della’s hand. A spark somewhere deep inside his chest. He wanted to ignore it, but some part of him was thinking that he’d be making a huge mistake if he dropped Della off, turned around, and didn’t make arrangements to see her again.
There was something about her that soothed the deep ache that resonated within his heart. He hadn’t realized how lonely he was until the last few hours. Hearing Della talk about her life and family made him realize that he wanted that for himself. Seeing his family and the folks in Sweetwater Springs again made him regret how long he’d stayed away—even if his father still blamed him for Brian’s accident.
He was serious about looking for another job. His position was a good one—a dream job on paper. But he missed getting his hands dirty. He loved drawing his own designs and being involved with every aspect of building. He didn’t enjoy doing someone else’s dirty work for them. He’d helped ruin the Cokers’ holiday while Della had just singlehandedly saved it.
Woof!
Roman tapped the brakes. “What was that?”
He glanced over at Della, who didn’t look shocked at all. Instead, she looked sheepish as she nibbled on her bottom lip.
Woof!
Roman glanced in the back seat and saw a brown dog with a patch of white fur between its eyes. He looked at the road again and took a breath. “Della, where did the dog come from?”
“The gas station attendant had already called animal control. He said that the dog had been hanging out there for weeks. It doesn’t have any tags, and I mean, look at the poor thing. Obviously, it has no owner. I couldn’t just allow it to get hauled off to the shelter. What if no one adopted it? You know what happens in places like that.”
Roman pressed his lips together for a moment. “You don’t know if it’s rabid.”
Della rolled her eyes as a nervous-sounding laugh tumbled off her lips. “She’s not Cujo.”
“She? Have you named her yet? Are you keeping her?”
“My boys want a dog, remember? Maybe we can keep this one. And as far as names go, I think a Christmassy name would be fitting, since it’s the holidays. Have any suggestions?”
Roman frowned. He still didn’t think bringing home an unknown dog was a fantastic idea. “What if it bites?”
Della reached around to the back seat to pet the dog’s head. “I’ve a good read on people and animals. This dog is harmless. I’m thinking Jingle. Or what about Bell? Jingle Bell?”
“A first and last name. I guess you’re serious about keeping her,” he said, wondering at the warmness inside his chest over a practical stranger rescuing a down-on-its-luck dog from an uncertain fate. “Jingle Bell is a good name.” When he glanced over again, Della looked pleased.
She reached for a piece of bread that Roman had seen her pinching off for the last hour and handed it back to the canine. “Here you go, Jingle. Eat up. It’s going to be an exciting night for you. My boys are a handful,” she told the dog. “I hope you’re prepared for a new family.”
Roman felt that comment in his chest too. Instead of warmness, it stung. “My family seemed to like you,” he said.
“They were nice. I’m sorry about all the difficulties you’ve had with them.” Della reached for his arm.
“Thanks. I guess I can’t complain. My brother is the one in the wheelchair.”
“He looks happy.”
“More so than me, I guess,” Roman agreed.
They grew quiet for a long time as Della focused on making the GoFundMe page for the Coker family. An hour later, Roman pointed.
“Here we are. Welcome to Somerset Lake.”
Della looked up and cheered while Jingle Bell barked excitedly. Roman started to laugh, but then the car spun out on a patch of black ice. He gripped the steering wheel, held his breath, and prayed that all would be calm when the spinning stopped.
After long seconds that seemed to defy time, Roman looked over at Della.
“Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly.
She seemed to relax, then blinked and looked around. “That was terrifying.”
“Yeah.” Roman checked on Jingle Bell, who was cowering on the back floorboard. Then he surveyed the car, which had landed at the bottom of the slope off the shoulder. “There’s no way I can push this thing up onto the road.”
Della’s eyes widened as she seemed to process what that meant. “Oh, no. We’re not going to make it to my sons’ recital.” Her eyes quickly teared up. She looked down at her folded hands in her lap and remained quiet for a moment.
