Remember Tuesday Morning Part 18

A door sounded at the other end of the waiting room, and Holly looked up to see the doctor enter. He was moving slowly, his face grim, and he stopped a few feet from her. "Ms. Brooks?"

She was on her feet, her heart pounding. Like everyone involved in the fire, she was exhausted and drained. As she watched the doctor she felt faint, and she steadied the back of her legs against the sofa where she'd been sitting. She looked into the doctor's eyes and she knew, she knew before he said a word.

"About Bo ... the news isn't good."

Holly wanted to stop him there, because if something happened to Alex's dog, then maybe Alex would never recover. She remembered the newspaper article, the stoic, cold look on Alex's face and the dog at his side. Holly had no idea how long they'd worked together, but Alex's love for Bo had been obvious tonight. She wanted to run, leave the waiting room and let the news fall on someone else's ears. Because hours ago she'd allowed herself the faintest hope that in finding each other again, Alex might also find himself. That together they would both find the G.o.d who would never leave them nor forsake them. But that hope would be gone forever if something happened to Alex's dog.

No matter what Max the janitor had said.

Bo was going to be okay. By the time Alex wheeled his Dodge into the parking lot of the veterinarian hospital, he had convinced himself. Dogs bled out much faster than people, so if the bullet had gotten him in one of his major organs or an artery, he would've died long before they reached the ambulance. As he drove, Alex thought about calling for an update, but he didn't have Holly's number, and there was no time to grab his phone and call information.

Better just to drive and get there.

Alex parked and ran from his car up a few steps to the front door. The place wasn't very big, and the waiting room was empty except for Holly and ...

He stopped and stared at the scene taking place before his eyes. Holly was crying, her fingers covering her face, and the doctor had his hand on her shoulder. No, G.o.d ... he took a step back, because this couldn't be happening. This wasn't the end. He could run back out to his truck, drive home, and there would be Bo, sleeping near the front door waiting for his return. The whole thing was a mistake, right? It had to be.

Holly must've heard him, because she turned and looked at him, her eyes red and swollen, her face twisted in sorrow.

"No ..." he shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and shook his head as he looked from her to the doctor. "Not Bo ... don't tell me." He briefly noticed the workers behind the front desk discreetly leave for some back part of the building. They were giving him privacy so that ... so that ...

"Alex." Holly's arms were crossed and she was gripping her elbows, her whole body shaking.

"Mr. Brady," the doctor was walking toward him.

Alex shook his head again and turned toward the door. He wasn't here, not in a vet hospital with Bo on the other side of the waiting room. He squeezed his eyes closed and grabbed a fistful of his own hair. He wasn't here. He was at headquarters, and his sergeant was ushering him into a small room where a striking young German shepherd was standing at attention, his ears forward, and the sergeant was saying, "Alex, I'd like you to meet your new partner." He blinked and shook his head, refusing to hear anything from anyone, and there he and Bo were at the far end of a gra.s.sy field at the training center, seven hundred and ten hours into training. A dozen officers were giving hand signs to their respective K9 partners, and every dog was messing up. Every dog but Bo. Then he was at home a few months later, looking for the TV remote so he could watch the Dodgers game before he went to bed, and there was Bo trotting into the room from the back of the condo, the remote in his mouth, and he was c.o.c.king his head, looking at Alex as if to say, "I'm here for you, friend. Anything you need, I'm here."

"Mr. Brady?"

Alex dropped his hands to his side and shook his head one last time. He could feel Bo beside him still, his dog's coat brus.h.i.+ng against his legs as they jogged the hills at Pierce College a few weeks ago. He wasn't sure how, but he found the strength to turn around. "I'm sorry ..." he looked into the doctor's eyes. "Tell me."

The doctor frowned and his eyes s.h.i.+fted to the floor. When he looked up, there was no question what he was going to say. "We tried everything we could. The bullet pierced one of Bo's lungs and perforated his liver. By the time he got here, he'd lost a lot of blood, but even if we'd operated on him at the scene he wouldn't have made it. Just too much damage. We've been in surgery since he got here, but - " The doctor pressed his lips together, as if he understood that no explanation was needed. No words would help now. He put his hand on Alex's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Holly was still standing where she had been when Alex walked into the hospital, tears streaming down her cheeks, and quiet sobs shaking her shoulders. She dropped back down to the sofa and put her face in her hands. Alex couldn't think about her, about the conversation he needed to have with her. Right now he had to take care of the matter at hand.

Bo was dead. "Can I ...," he swallowed, struggling. "Can I see him?"

"Yes." The doctor moved somberly, the way people moved around in a funeral home, and again the moment didn't feel like it matched the reality. Bo wasn't dead ... not his Bo. He was riding in the backseat, barking at the fire and ready for action, and he was heeling at his side, his partner. His friend.

"This way." The doctor walked through a set of double doors to a room at the end of a short hallway. He opened the door and allowed Alex to step inside by himself. "Take as long as you need."

Alex nodded, but already his eyes were on Bo, lying on the table. He heard the door shut behind him, and Alex stayed in that spot, not moving. Because from here, Bo was only sleeping, the familiar blacks and browns and tans that made up his back spread out just the way they'd been a few hours ago at the foot of his bed when Alex first heard the call.

He was probably cold and lonely up there on the sterile examination table. Alex went to him and put his hand on Bo's side. A gathered sheet was pressed against his chest, covering the area where he'd been shot, but otherwise he looked fine and whole, his expression the familiar one of loyalty and trust.

Alex put his hand on the dog's side and patted him, slowly and steadily. He was still warm, still full of the life that had driven him to do whatever Alex asked of him. "Bo ... you're a good dog, boy. Good dog." He moved his hand up to Bo's head and ran his fingers through the softer hair beneath the dog's ear. "Good boy."

A flood of sorrow was rising in his heart, and Alex didn't try to stop it. Alex had been driven to get the REA guys at any cost, and Bo had paid the price. More than that, he had done it willingly, rus.h.i.+ng at the suspect with the gun even before Alex had seen him. Bo's heart had beat with one singular concern - the safety and well-being of his partner.

Alex's tears came then, and he was. .h.i.t by the certain reality that he had failed. He hadn't stopped evil - not in the city of Los Angeles, and not at the Oak Canyon Estates, and not in his own life. Evil had found him, anyway, and now his dog was dead. He wanted to yell, rail at the collective bad in the world that would allow a dog as good and true as Bo to take a bullet. But he couldn't yell here, because the sound would frighten Bo. The dog hated when Alex was angry for any reason, and there was no need to upset him now.

He patted Bo's head again, and once more a host of yesterdays came over him. He was at the beach watching the surf, trying to find himself and failing, but grateful because Bo was his friend anyway, Bo right beside him, his ears back, eyes alert to any danger that might come Alex's way. Bo was there in the middle of every good memory he'd had over the last three years, Bo das.h.i.+ng out along a suspect trail and knocking to the ground one bad guy after another. Bo riding in the backseat behind him for what felt like a lifetime of calls and adventures.

He should've left him home tonight. "Bo," he held the dog's head, cradled it against his chest. "I'm sorry, boy ... I'm so sorry."

This wasn't how it was supposed to end. He and Bo had years of calls ahead of them, and when Bo grew too old to be the aggressive, intelligent K9 deputy, he was supposed to retire into Alex's care. Relaxed and doing nothing more demanding than jogging or running hills. They should've had so many years ahead of them.

Alex buried his face against Bo's fur and wept. Of course he couldn't have left his dog at home, because Bo wanted to take the call. He lived for the chance to protect Alex, and if he hadn't jumped at the gunman, if he hadn't taken the bullet, the guy would've shot Alex point-blank in the head. Alex never would've seen it coming.

He pictured Bo's eyes, the way he had looked on the ride down the mountain to the ambulance, the loyal eyes and trusting heart, the look of apology deep within his expression - as if he had known this was good-bye. He hugged his dog once more and then straightened, his eyes too blurred with tears to see clearly.

"Bo ... you can't be gone." The words came out with his tears. "I can't let you go, boy." He hated that Bo wasn't moving, that he wasn't lifting his head. Until now there had never been a time when he would talk to Bo and Bo wouldn't look at him. "G.o.d ... please get me through this, please." He stroked his dog's side one last time. "I hope heaven has dogs, because ... because I just want one more chance to run with you, Bo. One more chance."

He couldn't stay. There was no getting Bo back, no turning the hands of the clock the other direction so he could've been standing on the front yard of that house and noticed the suspect himself, so things might've turned out differently. It was too late for any of that. Bo was gone. His partner - his friend - was dead.

One more time he patted Bo's head, the soft place beneath his ears. For all their years together, Bo had desired Alex's praise more than food or water or air. This one last time, Alex took the moment to give his dog what he would've wanted most. He leaned close to Bo's head and whispered, "No better friend ever, Bo ... you saved my life. You did good." He patted his side. "You were a good dog, Bo ... the best. You did everything right."

He couldn't bear to step away, because when he did he would have to believe it was over, and he wouldn't have this chance again. Suddenly, he was mad at himself because he hadn't taken enough pictures. Hardly any over the years, so there would be nothing much to remember Bo by.

As soon as the thought hit his heart, he knew there wasn't an ounce of truth in it. He didn't need photographs. He would remember Bo every time he climbed into his Dodge or whenever he sped off down the streets of Los Angeles after the next crook. He would feel him sitting in the seat behind him and remember the look in his eyes as surely as he knew his own reflection. He stepped back, his fingers still spread deep into Bo's furry side. He needed to say it, because his dog deserved that much.

"Good-bye, Bo ... You were a good friend."

Then, with the weight of the world full against his shoulders, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Out in the hallway, he placed his forearm against the wall and buried his face in the crook of his elbow. The tears came harder, because already he felt lonely and cold and defeated. Bo was dead. How could that be? Couldn't G.o.d have spared his dog, when Bo was so full of good?

For a few seconds, the old pain and anger crept back in around the edges of his soul, but then just as quickly he could hear his father's words as they'd been spoken to Jake Bryan. So far, my family has had very little trouble. Life is good, love is sweet, and time seems like it'll last forever ... We all know that isn't true. Especially working for the FDNY.

Or working as a K9 officer for the sheriff's department.

He dragged his face against his arm and turned so his back was against the wall. Once more he reminded himself of what Clay had said, that G.o.d never intended for man to rid the world of evil, but through G.o.d's strength, that man might look at the evil within himself. Bo was gone; there was nothing he could do about the fact. But there was one way he could offset the evil that had taken place over the last five hours.

He could offset it with love.

For a long minute, he examined himself, the heart and soul that had grown cold and hard within him, and he studied the person he had allowed himself to become. His love for Holly Brooks had never wavered. He knew that now. She had been his best friend, the girl who took his breath away every time he saw her. The way he'd treated her these past seven years was, itself, a form of evil.

He opened his eyes and straightened, refusing to give in to the exhaustion and grief that were spinning his head in circles and making his breathing fast and unsteady. He walked down the hall, and he could almost feel Bo there beside him, looking up at him as if to say, "This is the right thing ... let's do this."

She was still on the sofa, where she'd been sitting before, but her head was no longer in her hands. She looked at him, and in her eyes he saw fear, like maybe he would walk past without talking to her, the way he'd done so many ridiculous times that first year after the terrorist attacks. The terrorists who had pulled off 9/11 hadn't only killed his father and the other thousands of people. They'd killed him too.

But G.o.d had brought his heart and soul back to life again.

He never stopped, never broke his slow and steady stride as he made his way to her. At first she didn't want to look at him, because the grief was too raw for both of them. But then she must've seen something different in his face, because when he was halfway to her she met his eyes and didn't break contact again. When he reached her, he stopped and held out his arms.

He had so much to say, seven years' worth of words and apologies and questions about how she'd been and why she was still here. He didn't know if she was involved with someone, but it didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that he loved her the way she deserved to be loved. Not the romantic love that might've come if he'd done things differently, but the love of days gone by, a love that cared for her still - would care for her forever.

But no matter how much he wanted to talk, he couldn't say a word. His sorrow and grief stuck in his throat and stopped him from speaking. So he did the only thing he could. He took her in his arms, slowly, with the greatest care, and he wrapped his arms around her. Alone in the waiting room, buried beneath his sorrow and hers, they stayed that way, clinging to each other until they were both crying again, silently weeping for all they'd lost in the wake of his unrelenting quest to right his father's death.

Please, G.o.d ... I can't talk ... please let her know what I'm feeling.

Her hands pressed into his back and his into hers, and still they stayed in each other's arms, neither of them willing for the moment to end. And it wouldn't end, either. Everything bitter and angry and full of hurt dissolved in wave after wave of love was.h.i.+ng over him and leaving him intoxicated by her presence. His Holly, here ... impossibly here, where she would stay. Because whatever was happening in her personal life, now that he'd found her, now that he'd found himself, Alex wasn't letting her go. If she was in love with someone else, fine. Alex would be her friend, but he wasn't walking away again.

Not now and not ever.

THIRTY.

Holly wore dark sungla.s.ses and sat at the end of a middle row in the sea of folding chairs that were lined across the gra.s.sy field at the sheriff's headquarters. Jamie Michaels was to her right, and Jamie's kids and in-laws filled out the row. Alex was in front with the other K9 officers. Tissue packets had been handed out as the hundreds of people arrived, and Holly was grateful. It was Alex's friend Clay's turn at the microphone. His arm was in a sling because of the bullet he'd taken to the shoulder, but he was okay. The whole city knew the story by now.

Three days had pa.s.sed since that awful night, and the fires set by the arsonists were almost completely contained. Oak Canyon Estates was a complete loss, but everyone agreed the damage could've been much worse. The newspapers and local television stations had all remarked that only a miracle could've caused the s.h.i.+ft in winds that saved every house at the bottom of the hill below where the fires had been set. "If I didn't know better, I'd say we saw the hand of G.o.d at work tonight," one reporter stated. Alex didn't have to wonder. Of course the miracle of the wind s.h.i.+ft was the hand of G.o.d. Alex had witnessed it firsthand.

No more winds were expected, so the worst of the firestorm was behind them. At least for this season. As Clay made his way up, Holly stared at the picture of Alex and Bo, the one that had run in the newspaper. Someone had enlarged it and framed it on an easel near the platform. Already they'd heard from a dozen K9 and SWAT deputies about Bo's bravery and innate ability to get the crooks. But Jamie had told her before the service that none of them knew Alex and Bo the way Clay did.

Clay took his spot and looked out at the crowd. "This is hard." His voice rang with transparent grief. "Bo was a good dog." He looked down for a few seconds, and when he had composed himself, he continued. "Most of you know ... a very unique friends.h.i.+p exists between a K9 officer and his service dog. In the case of Bo and Alex, that dog knew every emotion, every nuance and move his partner made. Everyone who saw them together understood that even among police dogs, Bo was a rare treasure. A dog whose loyalty and commitment to getting the bad guys knew no limits." Clay spoke clearly, and his voice carried across the field. "The same way it was for Alex." He launched into a story, something funny about Bo being lost during a chase, and Alex finding him on the hood of the squad car, waiting and watching for his partner. The story was long, and it gave Holly a chance to fade out for a few minutes. She let her eyes find the back of Alex's head, his dark blond hair and strong shoulders. He had filled out since high school, and he was more handsome than before. More chiseled. But in the days since their hug, he had barely spoken to her.

She'd been busy, of course. There had been the trip back to the site of the fire and the surprise arrival of a dozen contractors with earthmoving equipment. Each of them had taken part in one of Dave Jacobs' charity home-building projects, and now that Dave was in need, they all showed up to help - not expecting anything in return. The story offered beauty amidst the ashes and was picked up by the Los Angeles Times.

The next day Holly had a lengthy meeting with Dave and Ron Jacobs, so that she could share every detail about what had happened that fateful night. A debriefing, Ron called it. At the end, Dave came to her and hugged her the way her father used to hug her. "You were very brave, Holly." He pulled back, his eyes s.h.i.+ning. "I'm so glad you weren't hurt."

Holly thanked him, and the moment eased the feeling of tension between her and Ron. They had not shared a private moment since the conversation they'd had in the midst of the fire, and it seemed clear to both of them that their dating days were over. Ron was a good man. He and his father would rebound from this and find something new and better to be a part of - whether they rebuilt at Oak Canyon or not.

At the end of the meeting, Holly turned in her resignation. She needed something new, maybe a job with a magazine or a newspaper. Selling houses would never be the same after the horrifying terror of that night, and besides, maybe it was time for her and her mom to sell their condos and move somewhere new. San Diego, or back to New York City, maybe.

Especially now that it looked like she'd lost Alex again.

Holly blinked and focused on him once more. If it weren't for Bo, Alex would be dead now. Clay would be at the podium talking about him and not his dog. Holly couldn't stand the thought. She remembered what it felt like to be in his arms the other night and how she had known with everything in her that she still loved Alex Brady.

She would love him until the day she died. Which was all the more reason why she couldn't stay around. The possibility of running into him was too great. If she was ever going to have a chance to move on, then first she needed to move away from Los Angeles as soon as possible. Her heart would follow in time.

Alex turned his head just enough that she could see the rugged muscles along the side of his face. He hadn't cried during the ceremony, and that was another sign that maybe the Alex she wanted him to be was gone once again, lost even farther than before because of this new injustice in his life.

Be with him, G.o.d ... life's too short to spend it angry and driven. She longed for him, ached for him to look at her like he'd looked at her that night in the veterinary hospital, but she hadn't seen him again until an hour ago. In that moment, there wasn't even a flicker of the depth and connection she'd felt in the vet's waiting room. Help him, G.o.d ... let him find the strength to let his feelings show again.

This was new, this ability to pray as easily as she'd prayed back in high school. It was something good that had come from the terrible firestorm, and Holly was grateful. Whatever the future held, she couldn't imagine taking it on without G.o.d's wisdom and protection, His guidance and promise of eternity. If she couldn't have Alex, her faith would sustain her. It was something her mother had prayed about for years, and it would bring the two of them closer, as well.

Clay was finis.h.i.+ng up, and after he sat back down, the sergeant of the K9 division said a few more words and then closed the ceremony with a prayer, asking G.o.d for continued protection and guidance for Alex and all the deputies in the sheriff's department, and thanking the Lord for the courage of police dogs like Bo.

A quartet of bagpipe players started a haunting rendition of "Amazing Grace" as the procession of officers filed from the seats and back into the meeting room inside headquarters. A reception had been prepared by one of the churches in town, so that the K9 and SWAT guys could talk about the loss and share memories of Bo and his heroic feats. His and Alex's.

"You staying here?" Jamie put her hand over Holly's as she stood with the others in their row.

"For awhile." She looked at Alex and gave a light shrug with one shoulder. "I'm not sure if he wants to talk, but I want to be close ... just in case."

Jamie hesitated, her expression kind and sincere. "Clay and I'll be praying for you."

"Thank you." Holly smiled. "I hope we can see each other again."

"Me too." Jamie took hold of her kids' hands, and together with her family they walked across the gra.s.s toward the reception.

While the bagpipers finished up, a few of the deputies stayed and gathered around Alex, talking to him, patting him on the back, hugging him. Holly watched as Jamie came back outside and handed Alex a package. The two talked for a minute, and then Jamie gave him a quick hug and returned to the building with the others.

Eventually, Alex and Holly were the only two left outside. Alex didn't seem to notice she was there. He walked slowly toward the photo and lifted it off the easel. He stayed that way for a long time, looking at the picture.

Suddenly, Holly felt awkward and out of place. She should probably leave now, before he turned around and saw her there by herself. That way he wouldn't feel like he had to come over and talk to her. Because if he'd meant everything she'd felt from him that night in the vet's waiting room, he would've found a way to talk to her by now, maybe not by phone - since he didn't have her number - but here at the service, at least. She started to stand. This was no place for her, here alone with Alex. She'd been rejected by him too many times to let it happen again.

She turned and started to walk silently back toward the parking lot, but she only got a few feet before she heard him call out to her.

"Holly ... wait!"

At the sound of his voice, she turned around. Fifty yards of gra.s.s and chairs separated them, but even this far away she thought she could hear a softness in his tone. She stared at him, waiting.

When he seemed sure she wasn't leaving, he set the package from Jamie on a chair and returned the photo back to its place. Then he let his hands fall to his sides, and slowly he walked up the center aisle toward her. The closer he came, the better she could see his eyes, and for a heartbeat she thought they were back to the way they'd been the other night. But in the glare of afternoon sun and through the tint of her gla.s.ses, she couldn't let herself believe that, not when her heart was dying inside her.

But with each step, he never once broke eye contact, and when he was only a few feet from her she didn't have to wonder anymore. The man walking up to her wasn't the angry closed-off sheriff's deputy. He wasn't the broken teenager bent on revenging his father's death. He was just Alex. The Alex she wasn't sure she'd ever see again.

THIRTY-ONE.

Throughout the service, Alex had refused to let himself think about Holly. He knew she was sitting back there with Jamie, but his heart couldn't process everything happening around him. In the past five years, he'd sat in on memorial services for two police dogs and three deputies from across the state. Always he would sit shoulder-to-shoulder with the other deputies. Always he could picture the service being for him, because that was the sort of cop he was, the type that went all out for every call.

But Bo?

Sure, his dog had a knick in his ear where he'd nearly taken a bullet before, and even in the weeks leading up to his death he had made a number of death-defying captures of bad guys. But Bo was so good, so fiercely determined to take care of the crime scene, that Alex had never imagined him being killed in action.

Never imagined a service like this for his very own dog.

So before he could think about Holly, he had to have this time for Bo. His dog deserved his complete attention, the good-bye he had earned. His remains had been cremated, and Alex planned to let them go on a wave at Malibu beach - where he would always see Bo running along behind him in the shallow surf.

None of that was mentioned at the service, though, because the focus wasn't on Bo's death, but on his life. Alex appreciated every story, every officer who took the time to share about Bo. He could've stood up there and told stories till dark, but those were the moments he'd keep forever inside him. What mattered here is that other people knew about Bo. The people who had come to say good-bye to his dog would leave the service knowing him a little better. And that was worth something.

Strange how the service had played out. He could practically feel Bo lying on the ground at his feet, the way the dogs of the other K9 officers were lying near their partners. If he didn't look down, if he didn't check the photo on the easel or pay too close attention to what was being said, he could pretend for a little while longer that it had never happened, that Bo was still there. If only he didn't look down.

But as the program ended and the bagpipes stopped playing, the truth was as painful as it was obvious. Bo was gone. As the other deputies and the bagpipers cleared out, he talked to G.o.d about all he was feeling, and a truth settled in around the broken pieces of his heart.

If - in the minute before his sergeant had introduced him to Bo - someone would've told him that the ride would be far too short, that it would end tragically and before either of them had the chance to work together all the years they should, Alex wouldn't have changed a thing. Working with Bo for the years he did made him one of the lucky ones. Both of them would've done it all again without hesitation.

He'd talked to his sergeant about the next chapter in his life as a sheriff's deputy, and he'd made a decision for now. He didn't want to work with a new K9 partner. Instead, he wanted to work SWAT with Clay and Joe and maybe someday down the road he would think about having another dog. G.o.d had spared him from the inferno for a reason, and police work had to be at least part of it. Maybe even K9 work at some point, but it would take time. He would always compare any other dog to Bo, and that wouldn't be fair - not for either of them.

Now, though, the service was over and he was lost in the moment, staring at one of the only pictures of Bo and him, when he heard the faintest sound from the back of the set of chairs. He turned just as Holly was leaving, and panic grabbed at him. What was he doing? He hadn't made his intentions clear to her, hadn't told her that he wanted to stay in her life now that they'd found each other again, or that his faith had been restored. For all she knew, he was the same Alex he'd been before the fire.