Page 122 of I Could Never

The rest of that afternoon, I was on edge. It got worse the longer Josh stayed out. Whatever the surprise was, I wondered if it had gone wrong. He’d told me he would be back fairly soon over an hour ago.

When his car finally pulled up, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I was so freaking nervous—for him and for me because I knew I’d likely blown my hopes out of proportion.

I situated myself casually on the couch next to Scottie, as if I hadn’t been waiting with bated breath for Josh to walk in. Yet when the door opened, I stood up. So much for remaining nonchalant.

The sound of a dog collar jingled behind him.

And then I saw him—a familiar goldendoodle.

Bubba-Hank?

Tears filled my eyes as I ran to my big, fluffy dog. “What in the world?” I cried as the dog started jumping on me and licking my face. “What is he doing here, Josh?”

“Surprise!” Josh beamed.

“You didn’t steal him, did you?”

“Of course not. I’m not a thief like you.” He winked.

“Then what is he doing here?”

“He’s back, baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“The poor woman who owned him passed away.”

“Oh no.” I looked up at him. “But how the heck did you know that? You stalked her or something?”

He laughed. “No. But I always remembered her name and where they lived. So, I did some digging and contacted her daughter a while ago to check on him. At that time, she told me her mother was ailing but still wanted the dog. I told her Bubba-Hank meant a lot to you, and if anything with the situation were to change, we would love to take him in. I didn’t actually think anything was going to happen, but then I got a call from her a couple of weeks ago. She told me her mother had died, and the dog was too much responsibility for her. She wanted to know if we still wanted him.”

Hope filled me. “He’s not going back?”

“Nope. He’s here to stay.”

Digging my nose in his orangey-brown fur, I cried, “This is the best surprise you could’ve given me, Josh. I thought I was happy before, but having Bubba-Hank back? I feel complete now.” I stood up and wrapped my arms around Josh as the dog circled us. “What took you so long to get back?”

“Well, the woman’s daughter lives in Massachusetts. I had to go pick him up. There was an accident on 93 on the way back, so it took forever.” Josh leaned in to kiss me. “I’m so glad it worked out.”

Bubba-Hank settled into the spot on the couch next to Scottie as if he’d never left this house. I sat on the other side of him and rubbed between his ears for several minutes. Bubba-Hank’s eyes slowly closed. Scottie didn’t seem fazed one way or the other by the dog’s presence. Josh sat across from us, seeming to derive immense pleasure from watching me get reacquainted with my precious pet.

The pile of mail I’d fetched earlier was sitting on the end table next to him.

“You got a notepad from the monks. You must’ve donated.”

“Oh.” He turned and picked up the envelope containing the notepad. He took it out and flipped through it. “Yeah. I figured I’d keep the tradition going.”

“Anything in particular you’re asking them to pray for?”

“I have a few things.” He smiled but didn’t elaborate. Then he stood and went to the kitchen. When he returned, he handed me a note as he passed by the couch.

A Thank You from The Trappist Monks of St. Francis:

You’re killing me.

“What’s this about?” I blinked. “Why am I killing you?”

He sat back down across from me, rubbing his hands together. His face was actually turning red.