Caitlin let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
The dog squirmed in delight, yipped, and licked tears from the man’s face as fast as it could. It tried so hard to snuggle with the man that it pushed him onto his side, then relaxed and rested, wrapped in his arms.
The constable approached then, but he only picked up the knife. He gave the man a few minutes with the dog, then spoke softly to him. The man sat up, took the dog’s head in his hands and rested his forehead on the dog’s, then let the constable help him to his feet and take charge of him.
Doc Coates called the dog back to his side where Holt and Caitlin joined him.
“You did that,” Caitlin said, marveling. “How did you know the dog would calm him down?”
Doc Coates’ gaze was on the constable and his charge. “It’s what I do. In addition to the rescue work you know about, I’m training some of the dogs for just this sort of crisis. To help vets, homeless or not, who are suffering with PTSD.”
“How did you know?” Holt repeated Caitlin’s earlier question.
Doc Coates clearly understood his intent. “The fireworks.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Holt said. “You saved that man’s life. He looked ready to cut his own throat.”
Doc Coates reached down and rubbed the dog’s head. “Not me. The constable gave him the space he needed for Chauncey to save him. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
CHAPTER13
Holt couldn’t believe what he’d just seen— what the man who might be his father had accomplished. “All that took was a quick gesture to a friendly dog,” he said.
“And weeks of training beforehand,” Doc Coates answered with a smile, turning to meet Holt’s gaze. “To protect the man, of course, but also the dog if the man failed to respond and threatened him.”
Chauncey looked up in adoration, tongue lolling, and panting with excitement. “You did a good job, boy,” the Doc said, crouching down to hug the dog. “You saved a life tonight.” He spent a few moments there, continuing to pet the dog, then stood.
Other people approached then, voicing their amazement and congratulations. Holt’s heart swelled with pride. Whether this man was his father or not, he was glad to know him.
Once the crowd around them and Chauncey thinned and drifted back to the Christmas-themed events, Caitlin caught Holt’s gaze, her expression uncertain.
Was this still the right time to share the report he’d received and answer the question of his parentage? He wanted to know, but after what they’d just witnessed, would a negative result be too much of a disappointment? Also for the man who might be his father? Given what he had just achieved and Coates’ calm response to the event and the accolades from the village that followed it, Holt was certain Doc Coates would be able to handle anything. Holt nodded.
Caitlin took and breath and spoke up. “Did you get a lab report yet?”
Doc Coates turned his gaze back to Holt and held it for a moment. “I did. You did, as well?”
Holt nodded, the euphoria of the recent excitement fading. “Haven’t opened it yet.”
“Nor have I.” Doc pulled an envelope out of an inside pocket and proffered it.
Holt traded it for the one that had come to him. “This seems as good a time and place as any…” Christmas lights, Caitlin by his side, and a life just saved all seemed good omens. He feared the hope that was blooming in his chest. No, he didn’t fear the hope. He feared losing it if the reports didn’t— no, he wouldn’t think that way.
When Doc Coates nodded, Holt ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single folded sheet of paper.
Doc did the same, eyed him, and opened the form.
With a glance aside at Caitlin, Holt unfolded his. He didn’t look at the report right away. Caitlin’s expression captured his attention. Her eyes were shining, and she smiled encouragement at him. He nodded and looked down but couldn’t focus on the writing. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. It was hopeless. He was too wound up. Everything appeared watery. Instead of fighting it, he handed her the paper. “Read it, please. I can’t.”
Doc Coates also passed the report he held to her. “Please.”
Caitlin’s eyes closed for a moment, as if weighing the responsibility of delivering the results she knew meant so much to both men. Then she looked down at the papers in her hands.
Holt watched as Caitlin studied first one form, then the other, her eyes growing wider as she read. Then she pressed both sheets to her chest and looked up, first at Doc Coates, then at Holt, and cleared her throat.
“Both forms confirm a familial match. Holt’s DNA is a fifty percent match to yours, Doc,” she said, favoring him with a smile. “The rest,” she said, turning back to Holt, “must be your mother’s. You’ve found your father, Holt! Merry Christmas.” She stepped forward and hugged him.
Knees suddenly weak, Holt wanted to hang on, grateful for Caitlin’s support. But she pulled away, turned and gave his father a hug. His father. The words sounded strangely alien in his mind.
