Triplets Find a Mom

Tension wound from between her shoulder blades through her body to tighten into a knot in the pit of her stomach.

She had seen that little dog hanging around her yard as she moved boxes in. She assumed it belonged to one of the families on the block and forced herself not to try to gather up the sweet-faced little animal.

You never get a second chance to make a first impression. Polly could practically hear her mother schooling her in an attempt to get the imperfect twin to be more like her sister. It must have sunk in a little because Polly had not wanted the first impression she made to be that she had stolen her neighbor’s pet.

This time a series of three short whimpers, then a snuffle moved her to action. She went to the front door and opened it slowly. She’d just steal a peek and—

A soft golden-brown muzzle poked into the crack between the door and doorframe.

“Oh! No, puppy.” She reached down to push the animal back outside. “This is not your home. You should go back where you belong.”

A small, cold nose filled her palm followed by a soft warm tongue. She glanced down and her gaze met a pair of huge, soft brown eyes.

Polly was lost. She had always been a pushover for brown eyes. And these? Looking up at her from the sweetest little face of a doggy who, like her, wasn’t sure if he would be welcome in this new environment. Oh, yeah, she was lost for sure.

“Okay, I’ll take you in for the night, but starting tomorrow morning I am going to do everything I can to find your real own—” She’d hardly started to pull open the door when the animal nudged his way inside.

He had the elongated body and uncapped energy of a dachshund. The long ears and short, stocky legs of a basset hound maybe, but with the coloring, brown eyes and nose of a golden retriever. Tongue lapping and tail wagging, he jumped on her and threw her off-balance. She sank to the floor and the little guy squirmed into her lap, laid his head against her cheek and sighed.

For one fleeting moment her loneliness eased—until she realized she couldn’t allow herself to get too attached. Her first responsibility to this little fellow was to get him back to those who loved him. Much like her duty as the town’s new second-grade teacher was to encourage children to learn and grow and then to move on.

“Okay, let’s get some food.” She stood and brushed the dog hair off her clothes, snapped up her purse, then went to the door. “Tomorrow I’ll run up to the school and get whatever I need to make some flyers.”

She’d brought paper, markers, glue, scissors and other supplies with her from Atlanta because she didn’t know what she’d find in Baconburg. “Then I can take a picture of you, scan it into my laptop, make a flyer and post them around town. But for now?” She opened the front door and motioned for him to follow. “Wanna go for a ride in the car?”

Apparently he did not.

“Come out from under there!” Gingerly, she poked her nose under the back end of her car where the dog had darted after she had stepped outside.

The puppy whimpered.

She recognized the sound of a car engine cutting off, a door opening and falling shut again. She couldn’t stop to think about what kind of first impression she was making on some neighbor. Despite her thoughts on wanting to leave her competitive upbringing behind, she couldn’t help herself—she was determined to win this little battle of wills. A battle not for her own benefit, but this time to help the frightened animal.

“Just a little closer …” Her cheek flattened against the cold bumper. She stretched out her hand, straining her fingers to try to reach some part of the animal. “I wish I could make you understand that this is for your own good. Can’t you just give a little bit, too?”

“I know people who name their cars. Even some who give them pep talks or good swearing outs, but trying to guilt your car into running? That’s totally new to me.”

Polly gasped at the deep, masculine voice. She wasn’t frightened so much as mortified to be caught in this awkward position.

“Uh, hello, I wasn’t … That is … Hang on a sec …” She knew it would take her a minute to work her arm back enough to get leverage so she could free herself. Maybe she should say something about how silly she looked to make him chuckle, but nothing sprang to mind.

“I, um, I was just … I wasn’t talking to …” Heart racing, she finally got herself out from under the car, banging the back of her head on the plastic bumper as she did. That slight injury—more to her ego than her noggin—did not explain her reaction when she swept her gaze up to take in the full view of the stranger standing in her driveway.

She saw the cowboy boots first. They totally set the tone for what was to come—jeans, denim shirt over broad shoulders, a relaxed, open stance that instantly put her at ease. From what she could see in the shadow of the brim of his dark brown cowboy hat, he had a likable face, not too handsome, not too rugged, and a subtle but earnest smile.

“I was passing by on my way home. Saw you lying in your driveway under your car and I thought, well, either A, you had run over yourself, in which case you’d have a story I couldn’t miss hearing.” He used his left hand to tip his hat back. No wedding ring. His smile took on a hint of teasing. “Or B, I thought maybe you could use a hand.”

He would have laughed if she’d said something about her silly situation while backing out and she sort of wished she’d done it now. There could be worse things than planting herself in this guy’s memory. She swept back the fringe of her shaggy bangs, and stole a peek at the man’s hunter-green truck parked at the end of her driveway with the painted logo Goodacre Organic Farm. The Farmer Sows the Word. Mark 4:14.

“B, definitely B.” Polly smiled. A farmer and a Christian—who better to deal with one of God’s creatures? “I could use some help, thank you.”

“I’d be happy to take a look.” He squatted down, sweeping his hat off as he did. Suddenly they were at eye level. And what warm brown eyes they were.

“I have to admit I don’t know a lot about fixing cars, but I’m willing to give it a go.” He settled the hat on the drive, then ran his hand back through the short-ish waves of sandy-brown hair. “What’s the problem? Loose muffler? Oil leak?”

He bent down low to peer under the car. A cold nose thrust forward, a flash of tongue.

“Scared dog,” Polly said, her timing just a bit off.

“Hey!” The man whipped his large hand across his chin and nailed Polly with a stunned look. “There’s a dog under there.”

“I know. That’s who I was talking to.” Hadn’t she made that clear? The second she’d laid eyes on her champion farmer she’d had a hard time following the conversation. “Can you help me coax him out?”

“Does he bite?”

“He hasn’t bitten me.” She pressed her lips together to launch into a more thorough explanation, but he didn’t give her time.

“All right, I’ll give it a try.” He clapped his hands together.

A soft woof came from beneath the car.

Polly sucked air between her teeth. “Thanks, I really appreciate your coming to our rescue. I guess this is one of the benefits of small-town living.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but instead a woman’s voice called out, “Hey, Sam! Need any help?”

“Got it under control, thanks!” The man, whose name was Sam, it seemed, waved back. He gave Polly a wry look, clearly not quite put out, not quite thrilled with the attention they had drawn. “Another ‘benefit’ of small-town life—wherever you go … there you are.”

Polly gave a light laugh at the oversimplification of his frustration with being spotted.

“More precisely, there your friends are, or your family, or your pastor.” He gave a shrug, then nodded to the car tag sporting a frame from an Atlanta auto dealer on the back of her little red car. “Not the kind of thing you have to worry about where you’re from, I guess.”

“Or here, actually. I’m Polly Bennett, by the way.” She held out her hand.

“Sam Goodacre.” He took her hand in his.

Their eyes met and held. She had been in town for all of a few hours and already met a guy who made her heart race. So much for taking things at a slower pace here. She drew in a deep breath of fresh summer air. “It’s good to meet you. I just—”

A pathetic whimper from under the car kept her from launching into her story.

“Why don’t you go around to the other side of the car in case he heads that direction?” Sam directed her by drawing a circle with one finger.

Polly nodded and hurried around to the other side of the car and started to get down on one knee, but before she could, Sam’s head popped up over the roof of her small vehicle.

“Got him.” He lifted the dog up. Floppy ears and tongue flapped out, all landing in Sam’s smiling face. “Yeah, yeah. No need to get all mushy about it … What’s his name?”

She gave a big sigh at the overload of adorableness, then shifted her gaze to the pup. “I don’t know.”

“What?”