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“Why is he called Mars?” called one little boy. “Is it because he’s a Martian?”
Ethan laughed along with the rest of the group. Then he paused. His dogs were named after gods of myth and legend.
Gods of war, all of them.
“He’s sort of the color of a Mars bar, isn’t he?” he told them. A much better explanation.
The child clapped his hands in glee, satisfied.
“What’s wrong with that one?” called someone, pointing at Gun.
“He’s been hurt. He’s getting better, but I’ve got him in a pen because I don’t want anyone to touch him because they might hurt him. When dogs are hurt, they react, like any of us, right? So, the first rule of dogs is this: Never go up to a strange dog without permission from the dog’s owner. Okay?”
“Okay,” they chorused back at him.
He looked at Carrie.
“Go on. This is your moment.” Her soft voice quavered with joy and her eyes were shining. For him.
He’d read her face during the fracas with the collie and what he’d seen allowed him to hope, told him that there was still a chance for them.
He longed to catch her up in his arms and demand to know if he was right, but she’d created this opportunity for him. The least he could do was make the most of it.
“What should you do when a strange dog runs at you?”
Hands shot up into the air.
“Georgie,” he said, calling on Amanda’s son.
“Run!”
Carrie was watching, laughing. But were those tears in her eyes?
“That’s right,” he said. “But you know what?”
He started walking over to where she sat with Gun and Dixie and the pups, her arms hugging her middle.
“What?” chorused the kids.
“You can’t outrun a dog. Ever.”
Generous, strong, stubborn, demanding, forgiving. She was the best woman he’d ever known.
“Even if you’re the best in racing and you winned a blue ribbon two times in a row?” asked Georgie.
He paused and looked at the children solemnly. “If you run, a dog will always chase you.”
In a way, he’d been running too, hadn’t he? Carrie had told him, in a million different ways, to stand still and let people see him.
Let her see him.
Like an idiot, he ran the last few yards to Carrie, waving his arms and yelling. Instantly, Mars was at his side, leaping and whining. The kids laughed. He laughed. Carrie laughed.
She gasped as he pulled to a stop in front of her. He barely managed to keep from kissing her.
“What did I just do?” he said, wishing the crowd would leave already.
Blank faces.
“Ran like a crazy person?” suggested Carrie.
Laughter rippled over the group.
“I did,” he responded, smiling. And in a softer voice he added, “Because I am crazy. About you.”
“Crazy, crazy,” chanted the kids, delighted.
“About time,” Carrie murmured, touching his arm.
“So what do you do,” he continued loudly, “when you don’t want to be chased?”
“Don’t run!” the kids yelled.
“That’s right,” he yelled back. “Because who runs faster, a person or a dog?”
“Dog!”
“Yeah! So this is what you do, instead.”
He took a step away from Carrie, put his hands at his side and looked down at the ground.
“I’m here, Carrie,” he whispered. “If it’s not too late.”
Before she could answer, he stepped back and looked at the kids again. He had to finish what he started with them, make sure he’d done what he could to help them be safe.
And what if he’d been wrong?
“Boring as a fence-post, right?” he said.
A few giggles.
“Now, who wants to try it?”
“Me!” called a little girl with dark curls.
“You sure, honey?” said the mother, following her nervously.
“I want to be boring as a fence-post, Mom!” She might have been a teen, the way she said it, Ethan thought.
“She’ll be fine,” he assured the mother.
He led the girl out into the middle of the grassy field. Just past them, a group of families were packing up the remains of their lunch. Some of them paused to watch.
