Baby Im Back

nostalgia pulled at him, he was starting to feel confined and itchy from idleness. He needed to re-engage his mind and his body, and he couldn’t do it in Sweetness.
    No matter how tempting Lora Jansen had become.
    He tightened his grip on the handles of the four-wheeler and descended from the ridge slowly in deference to the broken and weed-choked asphalt. About halfway down, a noise caught his attention. He cut the engine, ears piqued. It was the whine of a dog, in distress. Barry’s pulse spiked. He glanced at the rugged terrain, then back to his cane—if he fell, he could injure himself further. But neither could he ignore the animal.
    He pushed to his feet and gingerly picked his way through the tall grass, calling out soothing noises to the dog that was now barking. It took him several minutes to locate the animal, a male German Shepherd mix whose feet were caught in the remnants of a barbed-wire fence. He looked to be around six months old. He was scratched and bloody, but appeared to have no broken bones.
    “How did you get up here, boy?” he murmured to the dog, which attempted a few intimidating barks as Barry drew closer, then submitted to his rescuer, too weak to fight. It took Barry several long moments to free the animal, and he got a few deep scratches of his own for his trouble. He hoped the dog would run away when it was freed because he had no illusions of being able to chase it down. Instead, the dog wobbled over and leaned against his prosthetic leg, turning trusting eyes up to Barry.
    His gut tightened and he wanted to walk away, wanted not to get involved. But the dog clearly needed medical attention. So he leaned down and scooped it up with his right arm and slowly made his way back to the four-wheeler, relying heavily on his cane, but recognizing his overall balance had improved dramatically in just a few days. The dog didn’t put up a fight, waiting patiently while Barry got them both settled on the all-terrain vehicle. He fired up the engine, held the trembling dog against his chest under his coat, and headed back to town.
    He had to get out of Sweetness…the longer he stayed, the more complicated things became.

Chapter Six

    LORA WAS WALKING out of the clinic with her lab coat folded over her arm when Barry rode up on a four-wheeler. Her heart cartwheeled at the sight of him, but she schooled her face into a professional smile. Until she saw the blood on his hands and coat.
    She gasped. “You’re hurt.”
    “Not me,” he said, opening his coat. “My friend here was caught in a barb-wire fence. Can you help?”
    At the sight of the scratched and bleeding fur ball, she melted. “How bad is it?”
    “Superficial cuts, but he’s weak.”
    “I can treat him in the utility room of the clinic.” She gathered the whimpering dog in her arms. “Follow me.”
    “Unless you need a hand, I think I’ll take off,” he said.
    She looked up, surprised. “I can handle him, but he’s your dog.”
    He lifted his hands, stop-sign fashion. “He’s not my dog. I found him, and I’m handing him off. See you later.”
    Barry drove away and Lora stared after him, perplexed over his abrupt demeanor. She’d selfishly hoped his unexpected apology over teasing her when they were young would pave the way for them to become friends. Instead as he’d progressed in his physical therapy, he’d withdrawn more personally.
    “Let’s get you patched up,” she murmured to the dog.
    Thankfully, the stray’s wounds required no more than cleaning and a few stitches. The poor thing was dehydrated and malnourished, so she fed him and gave him water, then took his picture and printed flyers for Dog Found and posted them all over town. Even though Sweetness was off the beaten path, it wasn’t unheard of for stray animals to be dropped off along the state road leading to the town and somehow finding their way to civilization. Until she found an owner, she received permission to keep the dog in her room at the boardinghouse.
    The next morning at Barry’s PT session, he was more pensive than normal. In fact, his overall mood seemed antsy and distracted.
    “How is your pain level?” Lora probed.
    “Fine,” he said. “Better, even.” He pursed his mouth. “How’s the dog?”
    “Healing. I’m trying to find him a home.”
    “I saw the flyer at the diner,” he said, his tone clipped. Then he proceeded to throw himself into his exercises with more zeal than necessary.
    Lora was gratified to see