a shelf that could be hung off the end to make a night table, a small dresser and a couple of pictures for the walls. And, when Daria pointed out—tactfully—that as tall as Sam was for his age, he couldn’t reach clothes hanging in the closet, they added a clever setup that hung a lower pole from the upper one, right at Sam’s height.
Stefan managed not to wince when the clerk rang up the total. But Sam was quite disappointed when he realized they couldn’t take it all with them, and that the furniture and some of the other items would have to be delivered in a few days.
“It won’t all fit in the car, plus we have to get the other stuff out of there,” Stefan explained, “so there’s room for your stuff.”
“Oh,” the boy said. Then, warily again, “Are you mad?”
Stefan blinked. “About what, son?”
“Your stuff.”
For a moment Stefan couldn’t think of what to say. So he tried to imagine what Daria would say. And running on that impulse, he reached out and ran a hand over the boy’s soft, short curls. “You’re worth a lot more to me than any amount of stuff.”
Sam stared at him as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. They were on their way back to the car when Daria’s phone rang. She answered as Stefan got Sam in and situated in the booster seat. The boy didn’t like it, and Stefan understood; he was tall enough it seemed extraneous. But it was the law, and so into the booster seat he went.
“That was Fiona,” Daria said as she got in and fastened her own belt. “She suggested this Saturday for the playdate. They’ve got a covered patio with heaters, so the boys can have lunch outside and if the weather holds play on the fort, as they call it.”
Stefan turned to look at her. “Just like that?”
“Fiona,” Daria said, “is the mother every kid wishes they could have. He’ll have fun and be safe. Can’t ask for much more than that.”
“No,” Stefan said gruffly. “I…thank you.”
“Thank her. All I did was facilitate.”
“Still…if not for you…” He drew in a breath. “If not for you, a lot of things.”
And suddenly it was there, in the car with them, the memory of last night and that hug of thanks that had become an entirely different kind of embrace. And he knew, by the way she averted her eyes and became suddenly busy adjusting her purse, that she felt it, too.
Where that left them, he had no idea.
“We should probably explain to Sam what’s going on, don’t you think?” she said as they drove.
“Yeah. Sure.”
Something in the way he said it told her his mind had gone exactly where hers had gone—to last night. But that way lay nothing but trouble, and so she quickly turned to Sam and explained about her friend and the invitation.
Sam took the prospect of this new venture Saturday well, even with a little excitement, although he seemed more enthused about his new bed.
It was a few minutes later when Daria said, with no particular intonation, “We’re not too far from Max Hollick’s place.” Stefan gave her a sideways look, and she shrugged. “Just saying. It’s early yet.”
“You’re determined to get me into this, aren’t you?”
The corners of his mouth were twitching, and she knew he wasn’t upset.
“Not like you’ll go home with one,” she pointed out. “As I said, they’re all spoken for already.”
“Safe enough, I guess. Unless somebody starts nagging.”
“Make it incentive. For good behavior, I mean.”
Stefan surrendered with good grace and made the turn she pointed out.
“Where are we going?” Sam asked.
Daria turned in her seat to look back at the boy. “Do you remember how you felt when you first got here? Like your world had been turned upside down?”
Sam frowned, clearly wondering what this had to do with his question. “Yeah,” he said hesitantly, and Daria hoped the hesitation wasn’t because he still felt that way.
“Well, sometimes when—” she chose the easier word for the five-year-old to understand “—soldiers come home from where there’s been fighting, they feel the same way. Like they don’t know how to fit in back home anymore. Does that make sense to you?”
“Yeah,” the boy repeated, more certainly this time.
“Well, I met someone a while ago who helps them with that, in the coolest way.”
“How?” Sam was clearly intrigued now.
“He finds dogs who have no one to love them, and he matches them up with the soldiers who need them.”
“Dogs?” Sam’s eyes had gone wide.
“Yep,” she said cheerfully. “So the dogs get a home and somebody to love them, and the soldiers get a best friend who will always understand when they’re not feeling quite right. Isn’t that cool?”
“Yeah.” With enthusiasm now, until the boy added sadly, “My mom hates dogs.”
“No surprise there,” Stefan muttered.
She wondered if Stefan realized his son was testing these particular waters. She went on rather briskly, “Anyway, that’s where we’re going. To where Mr. Hollick keeps the dogs for the soldiers. He’s not there right now, but someone will be.”
Sam’s eyes went saucer big this time. “Really?”
“They all belong to someone else already,” she said carefully, “but it would still be fun to meet them, wouldn’t it?”
That Sam could hardly sit still after this gave them the answer to that question. And when they arrived at their destination, and were greeted by an excited cacophony of happy barking, she thought Sam just might lift off, he was so excited.
The fact that within minutes of their arrival Sam was giggling, surrounded by a pack of clearly delighted, gamboling dogs of varying sizes and breed combinations, proved her right better than anything else could have.
The woman who’d greeted them, a grandmotherly sort who said she had become a volunteer at K-9 Cadets after one of Max’s dogs had saved her son’s life, had been quite happy to oblige when Daria explained.
“It’s great for the dogs to encounter all sorts of people, like they will once they’re paired with their veteran. It’s a wonderful thing Max is doing here.”
“Absolutely,” Stefan said, but his eyes were on his son, whose joyous laughter as he played with the animals was something Daria was guessing he hadn’t heard much of.
When he finally turned to look at her, he caught her watching him. “Convinced?” she asked hastily.
His mouth quirked. “Maybe. Still doesn’t give my house any more room for a dog.”
“Details,” she said rather airily, then added with a grin, “Of course, details never matter to the person who doesn’t have to handle them.”
When they got home and Stefan told Sam to look at his room and decide where he wanted his new bed, the boy scampered off happily, looking for the first time like a normal five-year-old.
“Thank you,” Stefan said to Daria again as she prepared to leave.