Page 5 of Operation: Return

“Pete, get away from the window.” She slid the slide back with a preciseclick.

He must have heard the decision in her voice because he didn’t question her, though his eyes widened at the sight of her gun aimed at the ceiling.

“What are you going to do with that? You can’t shoot him. He’s got a dog.”

Oh, to be young and convinced that any man who would take care of a stray dog was a good man. But she couldn’t go back to that kind of trust. The man knocked on the door softly and Erica opened it only enough to peer out at him.

Her heart did a flip as familiar blue-gray eyes looked at her in the light of the front step. It couldn’t be. Taylor was dead. Who was this guy and why was he on her step? She raised her pistol. “Who are you?”

He stepped back, his shoulders raising slightly like he’s raise his hands if he hadn’t been holding the dog. “That’s a long story. I promise I’m not here to hurt you. You knew me as Taylor Creed.”

She swung the door, slamming it in his face. No. Not today. Not on this of all the worst ever days. She’d been fired. She’d almost been late for her son’s bus. She’d had to cancel his trip to horse camp. And now, her dead first love had shown up on her front step. What else could possibly happen?

“Mom?” Pete peeked in from the kitchen. “Was he a bad guy?”

Her heart thundered as her eyes filled with tears. Taylor had not been a bad guy. She’d loved him with everything she had in her, giving him what she realized later was her soul, something she should’ve taken better care of. Later, when she’d learned about true agape love, she’d realized what they’d had might not have lasted, but she still ached to know.

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Then why did you slam the door on him? What about the poor dog?” Pete’s lip quivered. “Even if we can’t keep him, the dog needs our help.”

“We can’t help everyone, Pete. I wish we could.” When she was young, she’d thought about helping the poor and volunteering all the time. She was going to save the world, now she was the one in need of saving.

“But we can help this one. You said he wasn’t a bad man.” His voice rose in pitch and she could sense a rare tantrum coming on.

The man knew she was armed. He had to know something about her past or he wouldn’t know Taylor’s name. That alone made her curious. “Okay. Fine. We’ll help the dog then send him on his way. He has a car to take it where it needs to go.”

Pete nodded and rushed for the door.

“Stop this instant.” She wasn’t going to have him whipping open the door to some strange dude who looked strikingly similar to Taylor and knew his name. She reminded herself Taylor was dead. She saw the letter, the folded flag, the files of paperwork his parents had to sign in order to see the benefits they never lived to receive. This was not and never could be, Taylor.

She slowly slid the gun into the back of her pants and told Pete to wait as she opened the door. The man had just reached his car when she opened her door again. He turned to look at her. Now he was in shadow and she could hardly see him, how had she let it get so late? Why was she letting this stranger into her house at night?

“Erica?”

He knew her name? “What do you want?”

He held the dog so gently, so carefully despite its visible ribs and sunken eyes. The man leaned against his car. “I just want to talk but I found this stray dog on my way here and I couldn’t leave it in the car.”

Pete held onto her leg as he looked around her. “Can I pet him?”

The man smiled, but slowly shook his head. “He’s been treated pretty bad. I’d be worried about him biting because he’s scared. I was out here for a while trying to get him to trust me enough to carry him. I was out here a lot longer than I planned to be. I’m sorry it’s late.”

Starting with an apology would get him closer to the door. She glanced at her watch, letting him know she wasn’t having him stay late just because he’d been trying to work with his dog.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” He waited without moving from the car.

“Okay, you can come in. But the dog has to stay in the kitchen.” She didn’t have a good enough vacuum to pick up dog hair and she wasn’t completely sure how the owner of the house would feel about a dog, especially one that might have fleas or other issues.

“That’s fair. I’ll even sit in there with him.” He pushed away from the car with his hips, still balancing the dog in both arms like a farmer carrying a baby sheep. No, stop. That is not a baby sheep and this guy is not some shepherd. But he did make her curious.

How did he know her name? How did he know about Taylor? And how in the world did he manage to look like him?

She held open the door and the dog looked up at her with pitiful brown eyes that begged for anything good. She sighed and pointed the way to the kitchen. He sat down in a chair and held the dog in his lap, though it didn’t look comfortable. The poor thing was so boney, holding him couldn’t be easy.

“Here, I have an old blanket he can lay on. I don’t have any dog food or anything.”

“I have some out in the car, but I think he’s full at the moment.” The man who called himself Taylor waited until she got the blanket then lay the dog at his feet. “His name is Bubbles.”