Allison smiled. “Chester whittled me a robin once. I still have it in my jewelry box. He told me my hair was as red as a robin’s breast.” She chuckled and touched the ends of her dark auburn hair. “Thank goodness it’s gotten darker.”

  She paused and glanced at Seth, sympathy in her gaze. “He’s a good man, Seth. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. When he started getting mean, we knew someone needed to reach out to you or Sarah. He’s always been curt, but it got worse there for a while.”

  “I heard,” Seth said quietly, glancing toward the storefront. Then he turned back. “Do you think it’d be okay if I bought some bread for our dinner tonight?”

  “Sure.” She nodded. “Tell you what. Go around to the back. I’ll grab something fresh for you. What do you need? Something for sandwiches or a baguette?”

  “I’m making soup tonight. I was hoping for something Dad can slather with butter and dunk in it.”

  Allison laughed. “So, not a cracker kind of guy?”

  “Never has been. Mom used to bake bread every week, right up until she passed. Dad loves his bread and butter.”

  Her expression softened. “I’m so sorry about your mom. I was out of town at my cousin’s wedding in Colorado when the funeral happened. Did you come home for it?”

  “Yeah. Me, Sarah, and her family. I couldn’t stay long, though. Most of my emergency leave was used up traveling. First, getting back to the States, then out here with her.”

  “Where were you stationed?”

  “I was working the MAJCOM program at Ramstein Air Force Base.”

  Allison’s eyebrows lifted. “That sounds important. High-ranking or something?”

  “Nope. Just pushing paper, not dogs. Hated every minute of it.” He gave her a half-smile. “We’ll go around back and meet you there.”

  As Seth and Gomer turned toward the side of the building, the dog stuck close to his leg, moving in perfect sync. There wasn’t more than an inch of space between them.

  Allison walked through the bakery, unlocked the back door, and called out, “You can come in. This is the mudroom. Past that is my break room. You both can wait there.”

  Seth glanced down at Gomer, then back at her. “Won’t the county shut you down for letting a dog into the business?”

  Allison laughed over her shoulder. “Not if she still wants her baguettes and strawberry rhubarb pies.”

  She disappeared into the front of the store and put together a small bag of dinner rolls he could warm up. After a moment’s hesitation, she boxed up a blueberry pie and carried it back to the break room.

  “Here you go,” she said, handing him the bag.

  Seth looked at it, eyebrows raised. “That’s more than just bread.”

  She smiled. “You can call it a welcome home gift.”

  Their eyes met and lingered. Seth’s expression shifted and softened. He smiled, one corner of his mouth tugging up before saying, “I’d better go grab Chester.”

  He stepped toward the door but paused, hand on the knob. “I’m glad you and Ken never got together.”

  Allison blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  He looked back at her with a slow, certain smile. “Because now I have a chance with the prettiest girl in school.”

  He opened the door and stepped outside. Allison stood frozen in place. Then she blinked again and reached up to touch her face. Totally felt it. Yep, not a dream. She shook her head and shut the door. Why did she all of the sudden feel like Alice spiraling down to Wonderland?

  CHAPTER 7

  Later that evening, Seth reheated some chicken and rice soup he bought from the diner and brought it to the recliner on a tray. “Dinner,” he said simply, setting the tray on the small table in front of Chester.

  Chester blinked awake, eyes foggy with sleep. He took the tray without comment, then stared at the spoon as if it were something foreign in his hand.

  Seth knelt down in front of him. “It’s just soup, Pops. Chicken and rice.”

  “I can feed myself,” Chester snapped, his voice low and rough. His hand trembled as he picked up the spoon.

  Seth hesitated, then sat back on his heels. “Right. I’ll be here if you need me.”

  Chester managed a few bites. Slow. Careful. After a moment, he set the spoon down with a quiet clink against the bowl. “Your mother used to make this kind of soup.”

  “I know.”

  Seth had watched her make it hundreds of times. He could make it in his sleep, but the diner’s was easier and tasted good.

  They sat in silence again. Not the brittle kind they used to fall into, full of resentment and unsaid words. This silence was softer. Heavier. Sadder.

  And on Seth’s end, it was more forgiving.

  “Why’d you come back?” Chester asked suddenly, his voice quieter than before.

  Seth looked at him. “Because you’re my dad.”

  Chester gave a quiet grunt. He didn’t say more. But he didn’t need to.

  As the sky outside the window turned gold with sunset and Gomer snored softly at Chester’s feet, Seth sat beside his father and let the quiet hold them both.

  He realized then that the strife between them might never be resolved. But maybe that wasn’t the point anymore. Maybe now it was just about being here while there was still time left.

  The next morning, Seth went out for a jog. He left Gomer in Chester’s room with his father, figuring he’d exercise the dog later, after taking him to see the vet about his arthritis.

  He wasn’t gone long. Maybe thirty, thirty-five minutes, tops. But when he returned, the back door was wide open. Seth dropped the water bottle he’d been carrying, and it hit the porch with a dull thud.

  His heart lurched. The kitchen was empty. Too quiet. The coffee pot sat cold and untouched. Chester’s mug was already in the sink, and it was clean.

  “Dad?” he called out as he moved quickly through the kitchen. “Gomer?”

  No answer.

  Seth jogged through the house, calling louder this time. He checked the bathroom, then the spare room. Nothing. He ran outside. The barn was empty. Panic prickled under his skin, hot and cold all at once. He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. The early fall air had bite, and if Chester had gone out without his coat …

  Seth bolted. It took him nearly ten minutes to find them.

  Chester was walking straight into the pasture a mile down the dirt road. He was in sock feet and flannel pajamas. Gomer padded beside him, the big shepherd sticking close but looking backward toward Seth and barking.

  That was what led Seth to them. God knew it would’ve taken twice as long without Gomer’s alert, loud and sharp in the morning quiet.

  Chester had a bridle in one hand, his other swinging loosely at his side.

  He kept calling out. “Dusty! Come on, boy! Dusty!”

  Seth’s chest tightened. Dusty had been gone for more than ten years. Seth approached carefully, not wanting to startle him.

  “Pops?” he said softly. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

  Chester turned toward him, squinting against the sun. “Where the hell is the horse? I can’t run the damn fence line without him.”

  Seth exhaled slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Dusty’s gone, Pops. Remember? Besides, we’re not riding today. Come on. Let’s head back. We both need a cup of coffee.”

  Frowning, Chester looked down at the bridle in his hand like it had betrayed him.

  “Somebody took him. I know it.”

  Seth stepped closer. “Nobody took him. He’s been gone a long time.” A beat passed. Then two.

  And Chester’s face crumpled. His anger dissolved, replaced by something lost and frightened. “I can’t find the damn barn,” he whispered. “Where’s the barn, Seth?”

  “It’s okay. I got you, Pops.”

  Seth slid an arm gently around his father’s shoulders and slowly turned him back toward the house. “Let’s go home. I’ll get you some coffee.”

  Chester muttered under his breath the entire way back. His tone was rough, disoriented, and agitated. Seth said nothing. He just listened. Each mumbled word was proof his father didn’t understand where he was or what had just happened. When they stepped into the kitchen, Chester walked to the fridge, opened it, and tried to place the bridle inside.

  Seth moved to stop him, reaching for the reins.

  “I’m not stupid!” Chester shouted, jerking the leather out of his hands. “I know what I’m doing!”

  Seth clamped his jaw shut, the muscles in his neck locked tight. God, he wanted to yell. Slam a door. Shout at the unfairness of it all. Shake something until the fear shook loose from his chest. But he didn’t. He breathed. In. Out. Count to ten. Then, in the quietest voice he could manage, he said, “I know, Dad. I know. Let’s sit down, all right?”

  Eventually, Chester did. He dropped into his recliner with a weight that seemed to deflate him completely. His hands shook. His breath came shallow. His eyes stared past the window, vacant and unfocused.

  Something had been taken from Chester that morning, and Seth felt like he was standing in the rubble of that violence, powerless to rebuild it.

  He brought a cup of coffee and handed it to Chester, who stared at it for a long moment before taking a sip. When he looked up, his eyes were glassy, glistening with tears. “I think something’s wrong with me, Seth,” he whispered.

  Seth sat down across from him, his voice soft, steady. “Yeah, Pops. I know. But you’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again. I’m here. I got you.”

  Just past sunset, Seth sat at the kitchen table surrounded by a small mountain of paperwork. There were bills, brochures, pamphlets with resources for caregivers, options for memory care …

  All of it heavier than stone. He rubbed the back of his neck, blinking through the weight of decision fatigue, when he heard the soft shuffle of sock-covered feet in the hallway.

  Chester appeared in the doorway wearing plaid pajama pants and a faded old T-shirt that read Property of the U.S. Army, 1964.

  Seth had no idea where the shirt had come from. Chester was never in the Army. And definitely not in 1964.

  “Are you making popcorn?” Chester asked.

  Seth blinked. “No, but I could.”

  Chester sniffed the air. “I smell it. I smell popcorn.”

  Seth laughed under his breath. “You smell the dog’s feet. I just put ointment on one. Gomer ripped a gash between his paw pads while he was out in the field with you today.”

  Chester squinted at Gomer, who was stretched out nearby.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Damn dog smells like popcorn. And you know what? That dog likes me.”

  Seth smiled, his chest warming. “He sure does, Pops.”

  And Seth was sure of that fact. Gomer had not left Chester’s side since they’d returned home that morning. The old shepherd had chosen his next duty.

  Chester.

  Seth laughed, really laughed, for the first time in days. “You want me to make some popcorn anyway?”

  Chester shrugged and wandered into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet like it was routine, like nothing at all had happened that morning. “If we’re eating dog feet, we might as well put butter on them.”

  Seth grabbed a bag from the shelf and tossed it into the microwave. “I’ll take mine with extra toenails.”

  Chester cracked a smile and lowered into the chair across from him. “You always were a weird kid.”

  “And you were the one who let me build a catapult in the backyard.”

  “Hell of a shot, though,” Chester said. “You launched your cousin’s bike clean over the chicken coop.” They both chuckled, the sound soft and full of memory. And for a brief moment, the fog seemed to lift from Chester’s face. His eyes were sharp. His smile was real, not tight or confused, but natural. Alive.

  “I miss your mama,” Chester said after a quiet pause. “She always burned the popcorn, but she made it anyway.”

  Seth nodded, his voice quiet. “I miss her, too.”

  The microwave dinged. He stood and poured the popcorn into a bowl, adding extra butter just the way his dad liked it. Carrying it back to the table, he set it down between them and took a seat across from Chester.

  They passed the bowl back and forth in silence, each man reaching in, eating, and chewing with no conversation necessary. Just two souls who had once been oceans apart settling into the rhythm of something that felt like old times.

  Eventually, Chester leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “You gonna tell the neighbors I lost a horse that’s been dead for a decade?”

  Seth grinned. “Only if you tell them I cried during Field of Dreams when we watched it last night.”

  Chester snorted, then shook his head. “That part where the dad shows up? Gets me every damn time.”

  Seth’s smile softened, his eyes meeting his father’s. “Yeah, me, too, Pops.”

  For that one night, the diagnosis didn’t matter. The wandering, the fear, hell, even the doctors’ appointments … all of it faded to the background.

  They just were. A father and a son, passing a bowl of buttery popcorn and sharing the kind of quiet that only came from love that had weathered distance, time, and pain. Just a moment of peace before the storm returned.

  CHAPTER 8

  Allison wouldn’t lie to herself. Her heart beat just a little faster, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she saw Seth and Chester pull up in front of the general store.

  For the last week, they’d had a routine. Seth brought his father into town around one each afternoon. Chester would sit on the bench with Delbert, carving and talking, while Seth lingered just long enough to make sure he was okay. Gomer parked himself beside Chester like a silent sentry.

  Then Seth would head down the street and slip through the alley to her back door.

  They’d visit. He always left by two, so she could close up and go for her daily run, but those forty-five minutes? They’d become something she quietly cherished.

  There were no expectations with Seth. He didn’t know much about her past, at least, not the parts that haunted her. Those haunting insecurities that had caused her to act out weren’t a memory for him. He hadn’t seen the push and pull of her controlling grip over Ken. He hadn’t witnessed her being a bitch to him. He was a fresh canvas, a breath of fresh air, and with him, she could just be the Allison she’d fought hard to grow into. Did she still slip into the insecurities? Sure, every now and then, but she had a way to climb out of that spiral and stop the need to control events and people.

  In those quiet minutes on her wooden back steps, sipping iced tea in the shade, laughing at his jokes or stories about dogs he’d handled, she felt something she hadn’t realized she’d missed until now. Peace. She smiled and stared at him as he spoke. Emotions were forming for her. Emotions that drew her to this man in a way she’d never experienced before. Her heart tripped when she saw him, and she smiled at the thought. It didn’t scare her to open herself up to him, and that feeling was freeing.

  She’d started doing her closing chores earlier, just to make sure she had time for him. Even Edna Michaelson had come in early for her order, which was unusual, but she didn’t mind.

  Today, she’d thrown out only a very small amount of food. Most of the sweets had been picked up by the church for Sunday service. The leftovers were still good, but per state rules, she either had to give them away or discard them before the expiration date.

  Allison leaned against the front wall of her shop. Her chores were done, her till counted out and prepped for the morning.

  She smiled as she watched Seth stand up. The big shepherd stayed curled at Chester’s feet as the older man whittled with Delbert. Chester’s hand gently patted the dog’s head now and then. A sensation of warmth and happiness washed over her. She wrapped her arms around herself and laughed freely. She was falling for that man. Too quick? Probably, but that was a worry for another time. Seth turned and headed toward the alley, just like he always did. Allison flipped the lock on the front door and hurried toward the back, her smile still lingering.

  She opened the door and stopped in her tracks.

  A girl, or maybe a young woman, stood at the trash can, holding the lid and digging through the contents.

  Allison’s hand went to her chest.

  “Excuse me,” she said, her voice sharp with surprise. “Can I help you?”

  The woman jerked back, eyes wide. She dropped the lid and ran.

  Just then, Seth rounded the corner. “Who was that?” Seth asked, stepping up beside her.

  Allison shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.”

  “She didn’t look too good, did she?”

  “No. She looked … dirty. Skinny. Really skinny. I should call Ken.”

  “Where did she go?” Seth frowned and walked around the building. When he returned, he shook his head. “She’s gone. Not visible from anywhere. A regular Houdini.”

  “She’s the one who’s been taking food from my trash,” Allison said, hands on her hips.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “For the past week, maybe more, I’ve noticed food disappearing. Only the bags with expired stuff. Nothing else touched. I don’t overbake, so it’s not much, but it’s always gone.”

  Seth’s frown deepened. “You think she’s been living off what you’re throwing away?”

  “I hope not,” Allison said, voice tight. “It’s not enough to keep a bird alive. Maybe I should start leaving a sandwich or something more.”

  Seth crossed his arms over his chest. “This is a small town. I’m surprised no one’s seen her.”

  “I haven’t been to the diner lately,” Allison admitted. “I’ve been swamped with prebaking for the Fall Festival. But that’s where the gossip lives.”

  “Maybe we should head over,” Seth said. “You can keep an eye on the store from there, and Chester’s fine with Delbert. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

 

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