Page 12 of The Match

“Can I ask why you’re here, then? What made you text me and schedule another meeting?”

There are two answers to that question. I’ll only give her one of them.

“Ever since Samantha was diagnosed with epilepsy about a year ago, she’s changed. She used to be so vibrant and outgoing, and now she’s closed off. She doesn’t smile as much, and she’s acting out in ways that seem too grown-up for a ten-year-old.”

Miss Jones grins. “Like breaking into your email and impersonating you to get a meeting with a service dog company?”

I smile back and nod. “Like that. And yesterday, when I turned you down for the meeting, Sam wouldn’t speak to me all the way home and then slammed the door on me after we got there.” I can’t believe I’m telling her all this. And the way she never looks away has me wanting to shift in my seat. “Anyway . . . this has been the only thing she’s shown any excitement or interest in since learning of her condition, so I thought maybe I should at least hear you out.”

Miss Jones holds my gaze. Her eyes narrow slightly, and I wonder what she’s seeing. Her head tilts, and some of her hair spills over her shoulder. It’s curled in long, loose waves today, and before I can tell my brain to stop it, I wonder if she’s curled it for me.

No, dingus, she didn’t.

“You’re not sleeping, are you?” Her question is so out of left field that my head kicks back.

How does she know that? And why is she asking? I’m curious where she’s going with this, so I answer honestly. “No. I wake up every hour almost to go check on her. I wanted her to sleep in my room with me, but she refused. Says my room is too boring.”

In a desperate moment early on, I went to the home improvement store and almost bought three cans of bubblegum-colored paint for my walls before I chickened out.

“Does she spend most of her time in her room by herself?” she asks, and I nod, feeling so damn guilty. “And I’m guessing you’ve probably stopped letting her go to her friends’ houses?”

How could she possibly know that? Suddenly, I’m in an interrogation room, and she’s just grabbed the light and shined it in my face. It’s searingly bright.

“But I still let her invite them over,” I say, and there’s definitely a defensive edge to my tone.

“But you’re a single dad, so I’m guessing that some of the other parents haven’t been too excited about that prospect.”

Okay, who is this woman? Does she have a crystal ball shoved in her purse somewhere?

I lean forward. “Do you think that’s why none of her friends have come over?” I never even considered that could be the reason.

Miss Jones smiles, but I don’t feel patronized by it. More like, I feel as if she sees me and understands something. Something that even I don’t know yet.

“Most likely, you’re not doing anything wrong. What you just described about your daughter’s actions is normal in my experience.” Her words help me breathe for the first time in a year. “Samantha has had life as she knew it ripped out from under her. Her peace of mind is gone. Her friendships are gone. The small amount of independence she had probably gained from growing up is gone.”

Her mom is gone.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way,” she continues. “I am a perfect example. Charlie has given me the ability to live alone with confidence that if I have a seizure, I’m going to be taken care of. And I know that thought sounds daunting to you right now, and you’d probably like to shrink your daughter and put her in your pocket so you can always watch over her, but believe me, you won’t be doing her any favors. She needs freedom. She’s not broken, and she can live a full, independent life like her friends with the help of a dog just like Charlie. If you give your daughter back some of her independence, she just might feel like coming out of her shell again.”

Shoot. Just like that, Miss Jones becomes Evie in my mind.

CHAPTER 6

Evie

I’ve only seen Jacob and Samantha twice since the day, three weeks ago, that he filled out an application to purchase one of our service dogs. And both times were to introduce Samantha to one of our dogs and see if they were a good fit.

The first dog, Max, I could tell straightaway was not right for Sam. He’s an amazing dog and very gentle, but even when Sam was excited and engaging with him, he looked as if he had a show recording on his DVR that he couldn’t wait to get home to.

Sam and Jacob both seemed to get a little nervous at that point, thinking a service dog wouldn’t work out for her like they had hoped. But I assured them it was normal to not match with a dog right away and that choosing one is a lot like choosing your life partner. You don’t always find Mr. or Ms. Forever on the first date.

Or in my case, the second, third, or eighteenth. But I’m getting off topic.

The next option was Daisy. She’s basically Charlie’s twin, just a little smaller. When I brought her to visit, there was an instant connection. I let Daisy off the leash, and she went right to Sam and laid her head in her lap. It was that magical moment when I saw both human and animal sigh with relief that they had found each other.

It’s hard for people who don’t need the hope that a service dog can provide to understand the bond between a dog and a person. But as someone who knows firsthand what that feels like, it brings tears to my eyes every time.

And now today is the official start of what we call “training camp.” It’s a weeklong program where I help Sam and Daisy get comfortable with each other, teaching Sam exactly how to work with and utilize her dog.

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