Chapter Eight

Maple really shouldn't have been so worried. Lady Bird knew exactly what to do, and as her handler, Maple was pretty much just along for the ride.

The dog moved deftly between wheelchairs, resting her head on the arm handles and allowing easy access for pats and scratches behind her ears. She didn't miss a beat, padding from one resident to the next, greeting everyone with happy tail wags and a wide doggy grin. Just a few minutes into the visit, Maple found herself relaxing into her role as Lady Bird's human sidekick.

Most of the seniors reminisced about dogs they'd known or shared stories about their childhood pets while Lady Bird worked her golden magic. A few residents even grew teary-eyed as they interacted with the dog, and Maple realized she shouldn't have worried so much about what to say. She didn't need to talk at all, really. Mostly, the retirees just wanted someone to listen.

Maple could do that. She liked hearing about the dogs that had meant so much to the seniors in years past, and it warmed her heart to see how simply petting Lady Bird for a few minutes could bring back such fond memories.

"Here you are again, you sweetheart," a woman with short salt-and-pepper hair and dressed in a colorful muumuu said as Maple and the dog approached her wheelchair. "Oh, Lady Bird, I know I tell you this every week, but you remind me so much of my precious Toby."

The woman hugged Lady Bird's neck, closed her eyes and rocked back and forth for several long moments. Then she offered Maple a watery smile. "I had to give my dog up a few months ago. He lives with my granddaughter now."

"I'm so sorry to hear that." Maple pressed a hand to her heart.

"These visits help, you know. I never miss seeing Lady Bird. It's the highlight of my week." The woman cupped the dog's face with trembling hands. "Isn't that right, darling?"

Lady Bird made a snuffling sound and nodded her big gold head.

And so it went, from one bittersweet exchange to the next, until Maple's gaze landed on a familiar face.

"Hi, there," she said as they reached Ford's grandmother, sitting at the end of a floral sofa with her walker parked in front of her. The infamous Coco sat propped in a basket attached to the front of the mobility device. "It's good to see you again."

Lady Bird touched noses with the stuffed animal as if they were old friends.

"I remember you." Gram's face split into a wide grin as she gazed up at Maple. "You're the pretty new veterinarian."

"That's right." Maple kneeled beside Lady Bird so she and the older woman were on eye level with one another. "How is your little dog feeling today?"

"Much better, thanks to you." Gram reached shaky fingertips toward Lady Bird and rested her palm on the dog's smooth head.

"I'm glad to hear it. Treating her was my pleasure," Maple said, and the tug in her heart told her that she meant it. She ran her hand along Coco's synthetic fur and the dog's mechanical head swiveled toward her. It blinked a few times, and then its mouth dropped open and the toy dog made a few panting sounds, followed by a sharp yip.

"Coco likes you," Gram said.

"I'm glad. I like her too." Maple smiled. She could feel Ford's gaze on her, and when she snuck a glance at him, he was watching her with unmistakable warmth in his eyes.

Maple's heart leaped straight to her throat, and she forced herself to look away.

"Next time, we're bringing Coco to you instead of Grover." Gram leaned closer, like she wanted to tell Maple a secret. "He won't like that, but he'll get over it."

Maple couldn't help but laugh, and for a second, she let herself believe that there really would be a next time. Would that seriously be so bad?

Lady Bird nudged her way between Gram and her walker, plopped her head on the older woman's lap and peered up at her with melting eyes. Gram placed her hands on either side of the dog's face and told her she was a good girl, just like Coco.

"It's so nice that you brought Lady Bird here today. Your daddy would be so proud of you, you know," Gram said, eyes twinkling.

For a disorienting second, Charles Leighton's face flashed in Maple's mind. Her dad had never been much of a dog person. Neither of her parents really understood her affinity for animals, but she liked the thought of making her family proud.

When Maple had been a little girl, before her parents' marriage had broken down for good, she'd often thought if she could just be good enough, she could make things better for her family. Looking back, that was certainly when her anxiety had started. She'd foolishly thought that if she could behave perfectly, she could fix whatever had gone wrong between her mom and dad. She'd tried her best in school, but no amount of straight A's on her report card or gushing reviews from her teachers about her polite classroom demeanor changed things. Her parents' relationship kept spiraling out of control, and the only other thing Maple could do was try and make herself smaller so she wouldn't get caught in the crossfire.

That was all a very long time ago, obviously. But old habits died hard. Maple loved her parents, as imperfect as they were. She still wanted them to be proud of her—maybe even more so than if she'd followed in their footsteps and gone to law school. All during veterinary school, she'd waited for one of them to realize how wrong they'd been. Surely, they'd noticed how passionate she felt about helping pets...how right it seemed. She'd found her purpose. Shouldn't that make any parent proud?

Her mom and dad still didn't fully understand, but that was okay. Maple was a fully grown adult. Now she chose to believe that somewhere deep down, they really were proud of her, even if they didn't share her love for animals. And even if they didn't show it. Still, she couldn't help thinking that even the Leightons might appreciate the power of a dog's unconditional love if they could see Lady Bird in action.

But then, as Maple was reminding herself that the golden would be the absolute last thing Charles and Meredith Leighton would care about here in Bluebonnet, the true meaning of Gram's words sank in.

Your daddy would be so proud of you, you know.

Maple's smile felt wooden all of a sudden. "Oh, you mean Percy."

"Of course, I do." Gram nodded. "You're so much like him it's uncanny."

"I—" Maple shook her head, all too ready to disagree.

She was nothing like her biological father. Clearly, Percy had been deeply devoted to his community. Lady Bird had a busier volunteer schedule than any human she'd ever met, but the dog couldn't spread joy and happiness without a handler. Their therapy-dog work had been Percy's doing. He'd lived in a quaint town in a tiny pink house with fanciful gingerbread trim. He'd paid for her entire education, despite the fact that she didn't have the first clue who he was.

Percy Walker had left behind some very large shoes to fill, and those shoes had nothing to do with the slippers Maple had so hastily shoved into her bag.

"I think Lady Bird's hour is up."

Maple blinked and dragged her attention back to the present. Ford must've picked up on her sudden feeling of unease, because there he was, swooping in to save her from the conversation. She wasn't prepared to talk about Percy. It hurt, and she wasn't altogether sure why.

This, she thought. This is why I asked Ford to stay.

Thank goodness she had. She'd choke down an entire plate full of barbecue in gratitude, if necessary.

"Gram, isn't it just about time for arts-and-crafts hour?" he prompted with a glance toward the activities calendar.

"We're making crepe paper flowers today—dogwood blossoms, just like in the town square," Gram said.

"That sounds nice." Maple gave Lady Bird's leash a gentle tug to guide the dog out of the way while Ford helped his grandmother to a standing position behind her walker.

The woman in the muumuu who'd told her about Toby tugged on the sleeve of Maple's lemon-print Kate Spade dress. "You and Lady Bird are welcome to stay and make flowers with us."

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid Lady Bird and I already have plans this afternoon." Plans involving a food truck and a certain do-gooder who'd just rescued her right when she'd begun to feel out of her depth.

Oh, and catching a plane. She couldn't forget that crucial item on her agenda.

"Maybe another time," Gram said as she gripped the handles of her walker.

Maple didn't have the heart to admit that she and Lady Bird wouldn't be coming back. Instead, she simply smiled and said, "I'd like that very much."

Maple wasn't a thing like Percy Walker, but there was a certain type of magic about Lady Bird's therapy-dog sessions. Maple could feel it from the other end of the leash. She wasn't a patient, and these visits weren't about her, but accompanying the dog and seeing the effect she had on people filled her with hope. Joy. Peace...

And along with those precious feelings, the idea that perhaps it was okay that she wasn't just like her biological father. Maybe, just maybe, simply wanting to be like him was enough.

Ford cupped a hand around his ear and leaned closer to Maple, who sat opposite him at one of the picnic tables in Bluebonnet's town square. "I'm sorry, Doc. I'm going to need you to repeat what you just said. I'm not sure I heard correctly."

Maple's pupils flared. "You heard me the first time."

"Naw." Ford shook his head and offered Lady Bird a small bite of brisket, which she gobbled down with tail-wagging enthusiasm. "I don't think I did."

"Fine, you win." She pointed at the empty paper plate in front of her. "That was the most delicious meal I've ever eaten. Happy now?"

He winked. "Kinda."

"You're impossible." She reached to snag a Tater Tot from his plate.

He gave her hand a playful swat, but it didn't deter her in the slightest. "So I've heard."

After Lady Bird's visit to the senior center, Ford had made good on his promise to take her to Smokin' Joes. She'd hardly said a word during the short walk to the food truck, other than a quiet thank-you for intervening when Gram had brought up Percy. He'd swiftly changed the subject, poking fun of the fact that Maple continued to walk all over town in her fancy high heels, but she hadn't taken the bait. Not even when he promised her free medical services when she eventually twisted an ankle on the cobblestones in the town square.

It wasn't until she'd taken her first bite that she'd seemed to get out of her head. The second Joe's brisket passed her lips, she'd visibly relaxed. Within minutes, her eyes had drifted closed and the sigh she let out bordered on obscene. Ford had never been so jealous of a slab of beef, but there was a first time for everything, apparently.

"Seriously, where has real Texas barbecue been all my life?" Maple dabbed at the corners of her cherry-red mouth with her napkin.

"Right here in the Lone Star State, darlin'," Ford said.

Was he flirting with City Mouse?

It certainly appeared that way. Ford probably needed to reel that in. This wasn't a date, even though it sort of felt like one. It shouldn't, but it did. Or maybe Ford was just so rusty in the romance department that he'd forgotten what a real date felt like.

Probably that.

"Clearly, I should've made my way to Texas before now." Maple laughed, and then her forehead puckered like it always did when she was overthinking something. "Other than when I was a newborn, I guess."

She glanced around the town square, gaze softening ever so slightly as she took in the gazebo, the picnic tables surrounding Smokin' Joe's silver Airstream trailer and the dogwood blossoms swaying overhead. "I feel like I should remember this place. I know that's weird, but I can't help it. This could've been my home."

It still could.

He didn't dare say it. He shouldn't even be thinking it.

"There's so much I don't know about Bluebonnet...about my very own father." Maple swallowed, and then her voice went soft and breathy, as if she was telling him a deep, dark secret. "I wish I'd known him. Or, at the very least, that I knew a little bit more about him. Everyone in town seems to have known Percy, and I never got the chance to meet him."

"Maybe I can help. What do you want to know?" Ford didn't realize his fingertips had crept across the table toward Maple's until their hands were somehow fully intertwined. He told himself he was simply offering up moral support, pointedly ignoring the electricity that skittered over his skin at the softness of her touch.

"Everything." She shook her head and let out a laugh that was more than just a little bit sad around the edges. "Honestly, I don't even know where to start. He was a whole person with a whole life. It's easier to think of him as a stranger, but then someone will say something about him that resonates, and it catches me so off guard that I feel like the wind has just been knocked out of me."

Which is exactly what had happened at the senior center. He'd seen the pain wash over her face the second it happened, and in that fleeting moment, Maple's eyes had brimmed with a loneliness that had grabbed him by the throat.

He couldn't remember making a conscious decision to try and extricate her from the exchange with Gram. It had been pure instinct. He'd wanted to protect her, which was patently ridiculous. Maple was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She'd made that much clear since day one.

But Ford knew there was more to Maple than the prickly image she seemed so hell-bent on showing to the world. She kept insisting she wasn't a people person, but last night when he'd seen her with her dainty feet swimming in Percy Walker's bedroom slippers, a hidden truth had shimmered between them. Maple wasn't a people person because she'd never had anyone in her life who she could fully trust with her innermost thoughts and feelings. She was hungry for connection, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Against his better judgment, Ford wanted to help her find it. Adaline liked to say he was a fixer, and maybe she was right. He spent the better part of his time setting broken bones, mending scraped knees, and stitching childhood accidents back together. But bodies were like souls. No matter how tenderly they were cared for, they still bore the scars of yesteryear.

Just because he wanted to help her didn't mean he was in danger of developing feelings for her. And even if he was, he'd survive. Nothing would come of it. By this time tomorrow, she'd probably be busy examining a Park Avenue purse dog.

"What if we start small? That might feel less overwhelming. If you could ask me one thing about Percy, what would it be?" Ford gave Maple's hand an encouraging squeeze.

"Oh." Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth, and Ford was momentarily spellbound. "Just one thing. Let me think for a second..."

She glanced around as if searching for inspiration until her gaze landed on Lady Bird. The big golden panted with glee, and Maple instantly brightened.

"Oh, I know." She sat up straighter on the picnic bench, and Ford could feel her excitement like little sparks dancing along the soft skin of her hand. "He was so into pet therapy. I'd love to hear how that started...how he first got involved with that kind of volunteer work. You don't happen to know, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Ford said.

"So..." Maple leaned closer, until Ford could see tiny flecks of gold in her warm brown irises. Hidden treasure. "Tell me."

"Okay." Ford nodded.

This was going to be rough at first, but if she could stick with him until the end, he had a feeling it was a story she'd like. It would definitely give her a bit of insight into the type of man her biological father had been.

"About five years ago, Percy's mother was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer," he said, only mildly aware that he'd begun to move his thumb in soothing circles over the back of Maple's hand.

"His mother." Her breath caught. "That would be my grandmother."

Ford nodded. She'd found a family and lost it, all in one fell swoop. Percy Walker had died without a single living heir besides Maple. "She taught first grade at Bluebonnet Elementary when I was a kid. I wasn't in her class, but Adaline was. She could probably tell you stories about her sometime if you were ever interested. Miss Walker was a big dog lover. Never met a stray she didn't love, if word around town was to be believed."

"That must be why Percy loved animals so much." Maple grinned and shook off a bit of her melancholy. "Maybe even why he wanted to be a veterinarian."

"No doubt," Ford said. And that love—that passion—had found its way to Maple, too. Against all odds. The good Lord really did work in mysterious ways sometimes.

"Go on. Tell me more," Maple prompted.

"Miss Walker entered hospice care within just a few weeks of her diagnosis. Bluebonnet Senior Living has a skilled nursing unit, in addition to assisted-living and memory-care wings. They made space for Miss Walker in a private room once it became clear she was in her final days and needed around-the-clock care. From what I remember about that time, Percy would work in the clinic all day then head straight to the senior center and sit by her bedside for hours, long into the night. Like most late-stage-cancer patients, she slept a lot and drifted in and out of consciousness." Ford cleared his throat.

Maple was gripping his hand fiercely now, bracing herself for whatever came next. A bittersweet smile tipped her lips when Lady Bird moved to lean against her leg. That dog was more intuitive than any human being Ford had ever met.

"While Percy's mom was in hospice care at the senior center, one of his patients gave birth to a litter of puppies. There were some mild complications, so the mama dog stayed at the pet clinic for a few weeks so Percy and Grover could keep an eye on her. One day, Percy piled all the puppies into a big wicker basket and took them with him on his visit to see his mom." Ford shrugged. "That probably wasn't technically allowed, but everyone knew how much Miss Walker loved dogs."

"So the staff at the senior center looked the other way?" Maple asked.

"Pretty much. She was dying. I'm guessing everyone just wanted her to have one last puppy cuddle, even if she might not have been lucid enough to realize it was happening," Ford said.

Maple shook her head, her brown doe eyes huge in her porcelain face. "That is both the saddest and sweetest thing I've ever heard. Please tell me she woke up long enough to see the puppies."

"She did. In the eulogy he gave at his mom's funeral, Percy said he placed the basket of puppies on her bed. Then he took her hand and ran her fingertips along one of the tiny dog's soft fur. He called what happened next a miracle." Ford had been at the funeral and heard Percy tell the story himself. When he spoke, the look on his face had been so full of wonder that there hadn't been a dry eye in the church.

"A miracle?" Maple tilted her head, and Lady Bird did the same in a perfect mirror image. Ford hadn't seen anything so cute in, well...ever.

Don't get attached to either of these two.Alarm bells clanged in the back of his head. Ding, ding, ding. Too late.

He swallowed. "Yeah. A bona fide miracle. Miss Walker opened her eyes, and as soon as her gaze landed on the basket, she broke into a glorious smile. Percy said for the first time in days, he had his mom back. She was herself again. She spent hours cradling those pups, cooing at them and laughing as tears ran down Percy's cheeks."

"Oh..." Maple's fingertips slipped out Ford's grasp and fluttered to her throat. "Wow."

"Yeah, wow." Ford's hands suddenly felt as if they had no purpose. He slid them into his lap. "Miss Walker passed away the following morning."

"Seeing her so happy with those puppies was Percy's last memory of his mom, and that's why he got involved with pet therapy. That's just...incredible." Maple's eyes went liquid.

"‘There's no better medicine than a basketful of puppies,' your dad used to say. You want to hear something even more incredible?" Ford tipped his head toward Lady Bird. "This goofy dog who seems to have fallen head over heels in love with you was one of those puppies."

Maple gasped. "Lady Bird? Seriously?"

"Seriously." Ford's eyes flashed back to Maple, and he felt the corners of his mouth curl. He'd underestimated how good it would feel to help her put a piece of her family puzzle in place. He could've sat at that picnic table and kept talking and talking until he ran out of words.

If only she didn't have a plane to catch.

"Good girl, Lady Bird," Maple whispered against the soft gold fur of Lady Bird's ear.

The dog swiped Maple's cheek with her pink tongue, tail thumping happily against the square's emerald-green grass. Maple gave her a fierce hug, and for reasons Ford really didn't want to contemplate, an ache burrowed its way deep into his chest...all the way down to the place where he held his greatest hopes.

And his greatest hurts.

Ford shifted on the picnic bench. He needed space...just a little breathing room. But then Maple sat up and met his gaze, and he couldn't seem to move a muscle. She was looking at him in a way she'd never beheld him before—with eyes and heart open wide. Then her focus moved slowly, purposefully, toward his mouth.

Ford's breath grew shallow as Maple stood and leaned all the way across the picnic table. She came to a stop mere millimeters away from his face, lips curving into an uncharacteristically bashful grin.

"Yes?" she whispered.

"Yes," Ford said quietly. He couldn't get the word out fast enough.

Then she gave him what was undoubtedly the most tender, reverent kiss of his life. Just a gentle brush of her perfect lips, and Ford was consumed with a kind of yearning he'd never known before.

More.The blood in his veins pumped hard and fast. More. More. More.

She pulled back just far enough to smile into his eyes. "Thank you."

"For?" he asked, incapable of forming more than a single, strangled syllable.

"For telling me that story about Percy and the puppies. It might be the best gift anyone has ever given me."

Ford really hoped that wasn't true. Maple deserved better than that. She deserved a lifetime of birthdays with cake piled high with pink frosting and blazing candles, Easters with baskets full of chocolate bunnies and painted eggs, a puppy with a red satin ribbon tied in a bow around its furry little neck on Christmas morning. She deserved the perfect kind of love she seemed so hungry for. Yesterday, today...always.

He reached and tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "There are more stories where that one came from."

But to hear them all, you'd have to stay.

Maple's gaze bore into his, and neither of them said another word. Bluebonnet could've burned to the ground around them, and Ford would've scarcely noticed. Then she kissed him one last time, and her lips tasted of honey and barbecue. Of soft Texas sunshine. Of the slow, sweet dog days of summer.

And only just a little bit of goodbye.