“You don’t have to tell me.” Her soul contradicted her. She wanted to know his past, and how that had shaped him into the man he’d become.
“I don’t mind, but I don’t want to upset you or conjure any bad memories for you.”
Bittersweet emotions lodged in her throat. “After all I’ve been through, I think I can handle it.”
“So you know, my mom is very open with her past life and won’t mind that I’m sharing this with you. It’s a testimony of God’s power to turn a life around.” He flinched, and his jaw tensed. “She is a recovering addict, who spent years in and out of unhealthy and abusive relationships. At her lowest, she prostituted herself and got involved with a rough group of men. One night they beat her, and she almost died. It was only by God’s grace that she lived.”
That explained much about how Carl seemed to have a sixth sense about what she was thinking or feeling. “What happened next?”
“The men were arrested, and Mom went into rehab. During that time, I lived with my grandfather, but once Mom got back on her feet, she took me back.” His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. “It’s been the two of us ever since.”
“How’s your mom now?”
“Amazing.” Stress lifted from his face and he grinned from ear to ear. “She’s been sober twenty years. Eventually she went back to school and is an ER nurse now.”
“That’s encouraging.” She hadn’t meant to verbalize her thoughts, but it was out there, nonetheless. If Carl’s mom had gone through all of that and still pulled her life together, then there was hope for her.
He glanced at her as he drifted the truck into the vet’s lot. “You’ve been dealt a rough hand.”
“Others have had it worse.”
“That doesn’t change the trauma you’ve experienced.” He parked and shifted his body to face her. “You’re a good person with a lot to offer to the world. I just wanted you to know that.”
His words struck her with force, and she couldn’t respond. She’d needed to hear that. Probably would time and time again until she became secure in her identity. It was hard to explain abuse to someone who hadn’t gone through it, who hadn’t been worn down by insults and degrading actions day after day until they believed they were worthless.
One day she’d be whole again. One day...
Again, he seemed to sense she needed a minute and waited outside of the truck on his side. She should tell him thank you, or acknowledge his compliment somehow, but she wanted to keep it to herself, treasure his words a little longer. Licking her lips, she slipped her legs over the seat and got out.
“I can’t wait to see Hope,” she said, leaving their former conversation in the truck.
He held the office door open for her. “Me either.”
Trina, the tech on duty, came out when the bell rang. “Here to see Hope?”
She nodded. “How is she?”
“About the same but showing some signs of improvement.” Trina’s face didn’t offer much optimism. “Have a seat in Exam Room Three, and I’ll bring her in.”
The room lacked the posters the other room had displayed. Only an acrylic magazine rack screwed into the wall with various pamphlets added ambiance to the area.
Luna sat down, whispered a quiet prayer for Hope. When Trina brought her in wrapped in a blanket, Luna opened her arms to take the dog who was a feather in her arms. Hope shouldn’t be so light. Although she was still a pup—Dr. Scott estimated her to be between three and four months old—she should have weighed more than her fifteen pounds. Even Mercy weighed more.
Trina stepped back with one hand on the door. “Whenever you’re ready, knock on the door and I’ll come get her.”
“Thank you.” Luna lowered her head, focusing on Hope. Tears stormed her eyes at the blank stare facing her. “They said she was improving, but I don’t see how.”
Carl kneeled beside her. “She’s still in shock. Look, she’s trying to lift her head to you.”
Her mouth formed anO, and she watched in awe as Hope struggled to move her head into Luna’s arm. “You can do it, Hope. I know you can.”
The vacant stare in Hope’s eyes never went away, but she did lay her head on Luna’s arm. The small movement was all Luna needed to know Hope would pull through. An occasional noise, a combination of a groan and whimper, passed through Hope’s lips, but little else indicated life.
“Can I hold her?” Carl’s voice deepened, and his eyes didn’t leave the dog. He moved up to sit on the bench beside her.
“I wish I could see the future and know what will happen to her.” She carefully handed him Hope.
“Would you do anything differently for her than you are now?”
