Chapter Fourteen

Oliver grinned as he moved a red checker in a zigzag pattern of jumps, ending in the king's row on Ford's side of the playing board. "King me."

Ford then watched as the little boy plucked two more of his black checkers out of play and added them to the sizable stack of Ford's castoffs piled on the hospital bedside tray. This game was going to end just like the others had, and if things kept going at the current pace, he was about to get trounced in record time.

He placed a red checker on top of the one that had just annihilated half of his remaining pieces. "There you go, bud."

"Are you even trying to win?" Oliver cast him an accusatory glance. "You're not letting me beat you just because I'm sick, are you?"

"Absolutely not. I'm genuinely this bad at checkers." Ford made a cross-your-heart motion over the left pocket of his scrubs.

Granted, the fact that that he was preoccupied with keeping an eye on Oliver's vital signs as they flashed on the monitor beside the bed didn't help matters. He was doing his best under the circumstances, though. He could never beat Gram at board games, either—probably because she was a notorious cheat.

"You're even worse at Go Fish." Oliver snickered.

"Careful, there. Or I'll tell your mom you know where she hides the chocolate bars." Ford winked.

He'd never tell. The kid had him wrapped around his little finger. Never in his career had Ford spent every waking moment of his free time at the bedside of one of his young patients. Then again, no other child had touched his heart in the way that Oliver had.

If only he wasn't fighting the same exact disease that had claimed the life of Ford's childhood friend... If only Oliver's most recent bone-marrow test hadn't indicated that this latest round of treatment wasn't working... If only there was something more Ford could do to help...

If only.

"It's your turn again," Oliver prompted.

Ford slid one of his few remaining checkers from one square to another, and Oliver immediately jumped over it with a double-stacked red playing piece. That's right, kings could move in any direction. Ford had forgotten.

He needed sleep. He was so exhausted from trying to keep up with his regular appointments while also monitoring Oliver's progress as closely as possible that he could barely think straight. Was playing games and coloring with the child in the evenings while his mom worked the night shift doing anything to beat Oliver's cancer?

Doubtful. But Ford wasn't about to let that little boy spend his evenings alone when the odds of him beating the disease were suddenly in doubt. He hadn't been there to spend time with Bobby all those years ago. When his friend passed away, the rug had been pulled out from underneath Ford's entire life. He'd never doubted for a minute that Bobby would recover. Kids like them didn't die.

That's how naive he'd been back then. That's how idyllic growing up in Bluebonnet had been. Ford knew better now, and he wasn't going to let the rug get yanked out from under him again without a fight.

He hadn't been around when Oliver had his last bone-marrow test. There hadn't been a reason for him to be there since he was only the child's primary care doctor, but that was beside the point. The kid had very little in the way of a support system, hence his deep attachment to Lady Bird, even though pet-therapy visits typically only took place once a week.

The boy needed a friend, especially now, and Ford could be that friend. That, he could do. That much he could control.

He'd dropped the ball for a bit, that's all. Rationally speaking, he knew his feelings for Maple had nothing at all to do with Oliver's illness. But the night the puppies had been born had marked a turning point—Ford had finally let loose and given up control. He'd let himself want. He'd let himself yearn. He'd let himself love. And then, when he'd been the happiest he could remember in a long, long time, he'd gotten the text from Oliver's nurse.

It was a gut punch Ford had never seen coming.

The chemo wasn't working. No change, the oncologist had said. Ford didn't understand how that was possible. Oliver was handling the treatments like a champ. His spirits were up. His color looked good. Even the nausea was getting better.

The cancer, on the other hand, wasn't.

"Can we play again?" Oliver asked as he leaped over Ford's last checker. "Please?"

"I don't know, bud. It's getting late, and you have another bone-marrow test in the morning." This one would be different. It had to.

Ford scrubbed his face.

When was the last time he'd slept? He wasn't even sure. Every night when he got home from the hospital, he fell into bed, closed his eyes, and dreamed of Maple. She didn't deserve to be treated like an afterthought. Ford didn't know how to let her in anymore, though. He couldn't wrap his mind—or his heart—around allowing himself to be vulnerable and strong all at once. It was easier—safer—to not let himself feel anything at all.

When did you turn into such a caveman?

He wasn't. That was the problem. He couldn't turn it off. No matter how much Ford tried, he couldn't stop thinking about Maple. He had this fantasy that she'd walk through the door of Oliver's hospital room one evening and suddenly, everything would go back to feeling right and good. Ford knew it would never happen. Even if she came, she'd never look at him the same way again. How could she? His actions over the past week had been shameful. Ford knew Maple had trouble trusting people, and in the end, he'd shown her that he was the least trustworthy of them all.

"Lady Bird!" Oliver shouted, fully ignoring Ford's reminder that tomorrow was an important day and he needed to get some rest.

Ford paused from pressing his fingertips against his eyelids to slide his gaze toward the child. He'd known this was going to happen, eventually. Maybe he could get Pam to call Maple and request a visit from the therapy dog, and Ford could make himself scarce before she got there.

No, that would never work. She'd need a ride to the hospital. He'd volunteered the last time, and Pam wouldn't hesitate to ask him again.

"How about one more game of checkers?" Ford offered. "You really need to rest up. Lady Bird can visit another time."

Oliver's face scrunched. "But she's already here."

He pointed toward the door, and Ford's chest grew so tight that he couldn't breathe as he slowly turned to look.

And there she was. Maple, just like in his fantasy—smiling, with Lady Bird wagging happily at her feet. The only difference between his dreams and the impossible reality taking place was the addition of a large wicker basket in Maple arms.

"Hi, there," she said, nodding toward the basket as she lingered in the doorway. "Lady Bird and I brought you a little surprise, Oliver. Is it okay if we come in?"

Her gaze flitted toward Ford, and his dread coiled in his gut as he waited to absorb the full blow of the inevitable hurt in her gaze—hurt that he'd put there. But when their eyes met, the only things he saw in her beautiful expression were affection and understanding and a tenderness so deep that he very nearly wept with relief.

"Yes! Come in!" Oliver demanded, then clamped a hand over his mouth as he remembered his manners. "Please?"

"Come on, Lady Bird." Maple's eyes glittered. "Let's go visit."

Maple's legs wobbled as she entered the hospital room.

She wasn't sure why she was nervous. The look on Ford's face when he'd first spotted her standing in Oliver's doorway had said more than any words of apology ever could. He'd blinked—hard—as if trying to convince himself he wasn't dreaming. And his eyes, the exact shade of blue as Texas twilight, flickered with regret.

Everything is going to be okay, she wanted to tell him. But she couldn't make that kind of promise. Maple wasn't sure exactly what was going on with Oliver, but whatever it was had sent Ford reeling. That was okay...that was human. They could figure out the rest later, but the important thing was she wanted to be here for him now, the same way he'd shown up for her—again and again—since the day she'd come home.

Home to Bluebonnet.

"Hi," she said as he rose from the chair beside Oliver's bed and walked toward her.

He looked exhausted to his core—much more so than the morning after they'd stayed up bottle-feeding puppies. That had been a happy sort of exhaustion. This... This was something else. This was a bone-deep weariness that made Maple worry he might break.

"Hi." Ford cleared his throat, and the smile he offered her was the saddest she'd ever seen. "Thank you. I don't how you got here or how you knew how badly Oliver needed this, but thank you. From the bottom of my heart."

"I'm not just here for Oliver," she said as Lady Bird licked Ford's hand in greeting before trotting toward the hospital bed.

Ford looked at her for a long, silent moment until, at last, the smile on his face turned more genuine.

"You could've told me, you know," Maple whispered. "You don't always have to be the strong one—the one holding up the world for everyone else. It's okay to need people. We all do from time to time. That's a lesson I only learned just recently, by the way."

His tired eyes twinkled. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. From someone I've grown quite fond of." Someone I just might love. She took a tremulous inhale. Now wasn't the proper time or place to tell him she was in love with him, but she would...soon. "As for how I got here, let's just say there's a pickup truck taking up two spaces in the parking garage downstairs. For the life of me, I couldn't get that thing to squeeze in between the two yellow lines."

Even if she'd heard from him in the past few days, there would've been no time for driving practice. Caring for Ginger and the puppies was practically a full-time job, and Maple was busier than ever at the clinic since Grover had decided she was, in fact, competent. Just this morning, he'd surprised her by adding her name to the felt letter board in the reception area. It was listed right alongside his, where Percy's used to be. Dr. Percy Walker was spelled out directly beneath, along with the years of his birth and death.

"You finally drove Percy's truck?" Ford arched a disbelieving eyebrow.

"I had to do it sooner or later." A smile danced on Maple's lips. "I can't live here permanently if I don't drive, can I?"

He gave her a tentative smile that built as the news sank in that she was staying. For good.

Maple had made up her mind even before she'd told the Leightons she wasn't going back to New York with them. She'd decided a few days ago, and she'd been weaving new dreams for her future ever since. There were still a lot of things to figure out, but she was resolute.

"I just told my parents. They're here, if you can believe it." She blew out a breath. "Or they were. I left in a hurry, so I wouldn't be surprised if they're already headed for the airport in Austin."

The look in his eyes turned gentle, as if he knew how hard it was for her to tell the Leightons she wanted to start a new life here in Texas. He probably did. Ford had always seemed to understand her like no one else could.

"I don't know. From what I've seen, your family doesn't have the greatest record when it comes to travel plans. Maybe they'll surprise you and stick around for a while," he said.

"Maybe." She took a deep breath. She might like that, actually. Bluebonnet would probably do them some good.

She'd meant it when she'd told them she loved them, just like she'd meant it when she'd said she wanted to learn more about her birth family and this town that had embraced her and made her feel like she belonged. Those two things could be true at the same time. The Leightons had loved her as best as they could. It was the only way they knew how.

"I would've been here sooner if they hadn't turned up out the blue. The only other person who knows so far is Grover." Maple shifted the basket in her arms to hide its contents from view until the big reveal. "I didn't want to tell anyone else until we had a chance to talk. I wanted you to hear it from me, not someone else."

"You're just full of surprises tonight, Doc. I haven't slept much in the past few days. If this is a dream, please don't wake me up."

"This isn't a dream." As crazy as it seemed, it was real life. And Maple was finally ready to grab on to it with all her might.

Ford shook his head and grinned like he still couldn't believe it. "So you're really standing here with a basket full of—" He mouthed the next word so Oliver wouldn't hear, although that was doubtful since the child was chattering away to Lady Bird, who'd traveled all the way to the end of her leash to plant her front paws on the edge of the bed. The boy and the dog were in their own little world. "Puppies?"

"Yes and no." At last, she thrust the basket toward him for a closer look. "Peaches and Fuzz are far too young to leave their mom for any length of time, plus they shouldn't get out and about until they're vaccinated. So I brought the next best thing."

Ford's mouth dropped open as he got a good look at the three battery-operated golden-retriever puppies nestled together inside the basket. They were robotic companion animals, just like the one his Gram had. Except these were miniature versions of Lady Bird, Bluebonnet's unofficial town mascot. As soon as Maple had discovered them on the internet, she'd known they were perfect for her new venture. She'd ordered a dozen of them on the spot.

"You're certain I'm not dreaming? Because for the life of me, I can't figure out why you'd have these." He shook his head in disbelief.

"I bought them for Comfort Paws." Maple bit her lip. This was the part she couldn't wait to share with him. She hadn't told a soul—the idea had begun as a passing thought at book club, and the more she saw all the good that Lady Bird did in the community, the more it had taken root.

Ford angled closer, lips curving into a slow smile, almost like he already knew. "What's Comfort Paws?"

"It's what I've decided to name the new pet-therapy organization I'm starting. I have a lot to learn, obviously, but Lady Bird has been a pretty great teacher so far. Ginger's puppies will be perfect for this type of work. Cavaliers love people and make great therapy dogs, just like goldens do. Something tells me I know a few dog lovers who'd want to help get a new group up and running." She grinned, thinking of the book-club girls.

"Oh, there's no doubt you're right about that." He looked at her with a combination of wonder and affection that left her breathless.

She could get used to Ford Bishop looking at her like that, and now she had all the time in the world to do just that.

"So you think this is all a good idea?" Maple nodded at the litter of robot companion animals. "Until we get things off the ground, I've bought some of these guys to share with patients like Oliver and your gram."

Ford pressed a hand to his heart, and she wondered if he, too, was thinking about the day they'd met and tussled over Coco and her dead batteries. She'd been so sure she had him figured out, and she'd never been so wrong in her life. She'd never seen love coming, but it had found her, anyway.

That's the way love worked sometimes—it bowled you over when you least expected it. Love could sneak up on you in the form of well-worn bedroom slippers that felt just right, in the steady presence of a dog with a heart of gold...

In the arms of a man who made you believe in yourself again, even when you hadn't fully realized how lost you were to begin with.

"It's a great idea, sweetheart. It's also rather poetic." The warmth in his gaze seemed to reach down into her soul.

"I like it when you call me sweetheart. It's a much better nickname than Doc."

"This might be the best dream I've ever had." His eyes crinkled in the corners. "Shall we introduce these guys to Oliver?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Hey, bud." Ford turned his smile on his patient. "Wait until you see what Maple and Lady Bird brought for you."

Maple followed him as he walked closer to the bed, and then she set the basket on the edge of the mattress, right next to Lady Bird's front paws. Oliver's mouth formed a perfect O as he peered inside. All three puppies wagged their mechanical tails, and when Lady Bird gave one of the puppies a nudge with her nose, it blinked its eyes and yipped.

Oliver gasped and let loose with a stream of giggles. "They're real! I thought they were stuffed animals, but they're real."

And just like that, Maple's heart lodged in her throat. It was such a small thing, but to a boy confined to a hospital bed, this trio of tail-wagging, battery-powered companions meant the world. The light in his eyes was unparalleled.

Maple prayed with all her might that he would be okay.

"Not all the way real, but as real we can get for now," Ford said.

The distinction didn't matter to Oliver. He couldn't have been happier.

"They look just like you, Lady Bird." Oliver scooped a puppy out of the basket as gently as if it was a living, breathing animal, and he held it up to Lady Bird's nose for a sniff.

"Good girl, Lady Bird." Maple massaged the golden behind her ears, praising her for playing along.

"I can feel the puppy's heartbeat!" Oliver held the stuffed animal close to his chest. "Can I keep him?"

"Of course, you can. You can keep all these pups, for as long as you want. They're all yours. Lady Bird and I wanted to make sure you had some doggy company when we're not around."

"I love them," the boy said with a yawn. "And they love me, too. I'm going to sleep with all of them in my bed tonight."

"There's no better medicine than a basketful of puppies." Maple tilted her chin up and swallowed the lump in her throat. "At least that's what my dad always used to say."

Ford caught her gaze as he took her hand in his and squeezed it tight. "Your dad was a good man."

"He sure was." Maple smiled.

And hopefully, in time, I'll learn to love the way that he did. I'll keep growing, keep dreaming, keep believing. I'll hold people dear instead of hiding my heart away.

And through it all, I'll become my father's daughter.