Choices.
Five minutes later, I rolled to a stop in front of Patricia’s rambling house, and spotted her out in the garden. Her head came up when she heard the car, and she peered at me under the wide brim of a straw gardening hat.
I fought a wave of nausea as I opened the Jeep’s door and crossed to the other side to open the door for Louella. She hopped down, and I grabbed the tote bag I’d brought along before heading through the gate at the side of the house.
“What are you doing here?” Patricia asked, her tone sharp.
“Making choices.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t have time for this.”
“Make the time.” I walked over to a patio set under a pergola wrapped in climbing roses that still had a few blooms remaining, even this late into the season.
I set the tote bag on the table, reached inside, and pulled out a small can of dog food. I popped the top, removed a plastic spoon from the bag, and held both out to Patricia. “Please feed Louella. She’s starving herself to death, and you’re the only one I’ve seen who’s been able to get her to eat.”
She looked from me to the dog and back to me again and slowly took off her gardening gloves. After dropping them on the table, she took the food and spoon from me and sat down.
Louella immediately went to her side, pushing her face against Patricia’s leg. I sat down, too, watching and hoping.
Patricia dipped the spoon into the food, scooping some up, and brought it down close to Louella’s face.
I held my breath.
It took a moment, but eventually Louella’s tiny pink tongue darted out to taste the food. A second later, the spoon was licked clean and Patricia scooped up another teaspoonful.
“What happened to her fur?” she asked.
“She’s stressed-out.”
“A lot of that going around,” Patricia said, rubbing Louella’s head.
The dog didn’t so much as grumble, which told me that one of the choices I was making today was the right one.
“Sure enough,” I agreed, admiring the beauty of Patricia’s backyard, which overlooked the north fork of the Darling River. The water looked like a sparkling silver ribbon this time of day as it flowed toward town.
We sat in silence until Louella had finished the entire can of food. Patricia set the spoon aside and lifted up the dog, settling her in her lap.
I tugged the tote bag over and started unpacking it. “I think everything you need is in here.”
“Need for what?”
“Toys, food, a spare leash,” I listed. “Her dog bed is in my Jeep. I’ll grab it for you when I head out.”
“Carly, what are you talking about?”
“You adopting Louella, of course. I mean, look at her. She loves you. Adores you.” I took a deep breath. “Even though you aren’t her original owner, she knows you’ll love her like she’s always been yours alone. It’s what you do for those you adopt.”
A wash of tears filled her blue eyes. “You know.”
“About Dylan’s parentage?” I asked, not wanting to play games. “Yes.”
“Does Dylan know?” she asked, sounding like her heart was being ripped from her chest.
“Not yet.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“Yes, but he thinks I’m just dropping off Louella.” He’d wanted to come with me, and it took everything I had to convince him not to. I needed to have this conversation with Patricia alone.
“He cannot find out.” She shook her head and gave me the evil eye. “This, Carly Bell Hartwell, is exactly why I never wanted you around him. You and your witchy ways. I knew you’d somehow figure out my secret and ruin his life.”
Feeling as though I’d just been punched, I leaned back. “That’s what your contempt for me has been about all these years? Not about my magic or my housekeeping or my family, but your secret?”
“I’ve known your family a long time, Carly. Adelaide, Neige, Augustus, Delia . . . Your magic is different. Special. I saw it when you were little, and I see it now. I don’t know the extent of your abilities, and I didn’t want to get close enough to you to find out. I didn’t want Dylan close to you, either. Don’t you understand? I had to protect him at all costs.”
“He doesn’t need protection from me,” I protested.
“Clearly he does if you’re sitting here, telling me he should be informed about something that will destroy his life.”
“How?” I asked. “How will it destroy anything? If nothing else, it might help him to understand your bizarre behavior. It sure helped me.”
“This isn’t about you,” she snapped. “It’s about him learning that a man he idolized wasn’t so perfect.”
“Is it?” I asked. “Couldn’t it be that you’re more afraid he’ll walk away from you forever if he knows you’re not his birth mother? Especially with the way you’ve behaved the past few years?”