She tipped the shell up, reading it again.
Why am I taking this so personally? It’s a random find.
“Can we keep it, Mom?” Hailey asked.
“We sure can.” The quote rolled in her mind.
Trekking those last thirty feet over the dune was like crossing the finishing line of a marathon. The kids were dragging, but she felt the world brighten more every time she saw their house waiting for them. She opened the gate, and Denali ran through, followed by Jesse and then Hailey. More than a house. The latch clicked behind them. Home sweet home.
“Where should we put our keeper shells?” Amanda asked.
“Can we have them in our rooms tonight?” Hope hung in the air. “For a while,” Hailey begged. “Just until we get too many?”
It was hard to say no to them. “Yes. If you want to. That seems fair.” She had no intention of leaving hers outside either.
Jesse placed his on the corner of the flower box that Amanda had hung over the hose bib. “Mine.”
As they ran ahead to go inside, she took the purple shell from her pocket. Help me stay focused on the beauty around us. She placed it next to Jesse’s treasure.
She prayed Hailey and Jesse were adjusting to life as well as it seemed despite her own daily inner battle. She carried the big shell inside, reading the quote once more.
5
From Paul’s office at Paws Town Square, he had nearly a panoramic view overlooking the dog park, pond, and myriad walking trails. Because the facility was meant to also serve as a rehabilitation-and-training center, each of the hiking paths had multiple rest stops, including water fountains and benches. The outside trails had them, too, but with the humidity, not many people cared to use them this time of year.
His leather chair screeched against the ceramic tile floor as he leaned his arms forward on his desk. Memories from his Marine career filled a shelf on the bookcase otherwise piled with nonfiction, reference books, and binders of information on projects completed and pending. A few of his personal belongings were on that shelf. He walked over and picked up the picture of him, dressed in fatigues, with his partner Gunner, one of the best bomb-sniffing dogs the Marines had. He located more IEDs than any other dog and had the medals to prove it. The hardest part of leaving the Marines had been leaving Gunner behind, but the powers that be weren’t ready to let him retire at that time.
Paul’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. There was a time when he’d thought he’d be an active-duty Marine until his hands began to weather with age and they forced him to retire. But now there were no more combat boots and no daily salutes. The expectations hadn’t changed that much, though. He still put his needs and wants second to his new mission: to help his fellow service members, including the military working dogs. For that, there was honor.
He’d danced with death, been taken prisoner, protected his country, and helped shape another round of new recruits along the way. He made friends and lost the best of them. Those losses had forced him to make a change. Who would’ve thought that at the lowest point in his life, he would come up with the greatest opportunity of all?
A double knock came from his open door. His assistant poked her head inside. “Hey, Paul. I have those packages ready for you. Do you want me to run them down to the post office?”
“No, thank you. I can take care of it. I have a couple other errands to run today.” He walked over to get the packages. “Thanks.”
“Don’t forget that conference call in an hour.”
“I’ll be back in plenty of time,” he assured her.
Her lips pursed as she pointed out the window toward the view of the park below. “When are you going to slow down long enough to find yourself a nice gal to share all this with?”
“Me? Never gonna happen,” Paul said, then winced. He hadn’t meant it to come out so abrupt, which left him feeling the need to explain. “There’s not a woman out there who could put up with the likes of me.” He took in a breath. “I met my one true love. It just wasn’t meant to be, and that’s that. Mission impossible.”
“Sorry, boss. I won’t press, but for the record, I don’t believe that.”
She was plucky—he had to give her that. “Thank you, but I’ve found my life’s calling now. I’m married to my work. She might not be all that pretty, but she’s all I need.”
“You need to look out that window again. She’s pretty. Real pretty. High maintenance as heck, but beautiful. You made sure of that.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” Paul laughed. He could’ve gotten away with a lot less and served his customers just as well, but the ambiance got people in the door, and the service kept them happy.
“Okay, I’ll get out of your hair.” She walked out of the room, and Paul moved over to the window. His assistant was right. It was beautiful. The greenery and flowering trees and plants below soothed his soul. What more could I need?
A Lynyrd Skynyrd song played in his mind.
That’s what I get for asking questions. “I always need Skynyrd.”
He dug the keys from his pocket and headed downstairs.
It wasn’t even four miles to the post office. On a cooler day he could’ve walked or jogged, but with less than an hour to spare, he took the truck. He got behind the wheel and hit redial on his phone for Tug’s Diner as he backed out. “Can I get two hot dogs all the way for Paws Town Square? I’ll be by to get them in about twenty minutes.”
Those hot dogs were his weakness. He ate them for lunch at least twice a week, something he used to avoid completely, but they were quick, cheap, and easy, and Tug made homemade chili and toasted the buns. He could already taste them.
The Whelk’s Island post office was the tiniest one he’d ever seen. The original for this town, it was a historic landmark. According to the locals, the compact building had once sat right in the middle of a sandy field, but the town had eventually grown up around it.
The teeny structure had withstood years of hurricanes, and when the city planner recommended relocating it to an updated building, the townspeople wouldn’t stand for it. Instead, they compromised and allowed an external makeover. The worn and rotting pillars had been replaced with new composite material that would never need painting, and where there used to be lapboard was all vinyl siding in soft yellow with glossy white trim. It looked like a kid’s playhouse to him.
He parked his truck at the curb and carried the packages inside. The interior boasted the original wooden counter, and vintage brass twin-letter-combination post-office-box units lined the walls.
“Hi there!” Maeve walked toward him with a stack of mail in her hands.