Page 18 of Unforgiven

She knelt in the doorway. “It’s cold and wet out here,” she whispered. “I’ve got a clean dry towel for you to use and a warm fire too. Come on in.”

The hund cowered, but the new glint in his eyes looked everything like hope.

Tabitha got to her feet and stepped back. “Come on, then. I’ll give you some milk too. And maybe an egg? Surely you’re hungry.”

The dog tilted his head to one side and seemed to weigh his options just as a gust of wet wind reached them. It whistled as it shook tree limbs, reminding Tabitha that violent weather was always possible.

She needed to close the door. “It’s time to trust me, dog. I know you want to. Otherwise, why would you have come calling?”

Maybe it was her words or maybe the dog was simply enough of a realist to realize that being warm and dry was better than being cold and wet. Whatever the reason, he finally stepped through the doorway.

“You made the right decision,” she murmured. “I know you don’t trust me, but you don’t have to. All you have to do is rest for a spell. Go on now, lie down on this towel in front of the fireplace. We’ll take things one step at a time.”

Five minutes later, the dog was asleep in front of the fireplace and Tabitha was sitting in her chair once again. Gazing at him, she wondered if he would stay for a while. Hopefully he would, but if he changed his mind, she wouldn’t try to stop him.

She’d learned better than to do that.

• • • •

By seven that night, Tabitha had come to the conclusion that she now had a dog. He seemed inclined to stay. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. A lingering chill hung in the air now that it was mid-October, but it was warm and cozy in front of the fireplace.

Then there was the fact that she had not only fed him but treated him kindly. Tabitha knew from experience that kindness mattered a lot. After taking him outside to go to the bathroom, she’d waited on the porch to see what he would do. He quickly did his business and returned to her side, where he sat patiently with a look of hope in his big brown eyes.

She’d had a feeling that if she’d told him to leave, the dog would’ve gone. He didn’t expect much. Which was all she’d needed to know to cement her decision. “What am I going to call you, dog?” she’d asked as she opened the door and led him inside.

His only response had been a head tilt, as if to signify that choosing a new name was an important undertaking.

“I’ve never had a dog,” Tabitha had said as they returned to the living room. “My mother liked cats. And Leon? Well, Leon didn’t like a lot of things.”

The dog stretched out on the rug, then curled into a ball. He even went so far as to curl his tail around his snout.

Tabitha watched as the firelight flickered against his blond fur, turning it almost a copper color. And then she remembered Seth Zimmerman’s little speech about how she and he were like the field to her west. How there was more to that dead-looking grass than met the eye. Just like the two of them.

No, just like the three of them. She was fairly certain that this dog, just like her and Seth, was full of something good on the inside. If only one took the time to look.

No, if only someone took a chance on him.

Chance.

“What do you think, dog? Are you partial to Chance?”

The dog wagged his tail.

Tabitha knew little about dogs but figured they wagged their tails for all sorts of reasons. Even if it was just to say hello. But since she didn’t know much about pet ownership, she reckoned that she was allowed to make some mistakes. “I think we should give Chance a chance. What do you think?” She smiled at the play on words.

The dog lumbered to his feet and walked closer.

She smiled. “Chance it is.”

8

Seth hadn’t visited Melonie in five months. That was no accident. He didn’t belong in his childhood home, especially since he wasn’t a child and the large, white house was no longer his home. He also did his best to avoid their parents—not that he needed to do that. His mamm and daed avoided him just fine on their own. He reckoned the four of them had a tricky relationship, and that was putting it mildly.

Soon after he’d been sentenced to prison, Preacher Zachariah had paid him a visit. After making sure that Seth was all right, he had brought up the topic of Seth’s future. Seth had never been baptized in the Amish faith. Because of that, he wouldn’t have to worry about being shunned, but the preacher had encouraged him to pray about his future. Seth had done that and had believed it would be some time before anyone in their tight-knit community would accept him. Violence was frowned upon, and the fact that he’d fought Peter would always be remembered.

Then there was the fact that he was going to be living among the English for an extended time and be subjected to other people’s rules and customs. It might be too hard to return to the simple way of life. Seth had listened to the preacher’s awkward conversation in silence. He hadn’t disagreed with anything the man had said, though inwardly his heart was breaking. That’s when Preacher Zachariah mentioned that forgiveness was always possible and that time healed a great many things. Perhaps one day Seth would be accepted in the Amish community and would want to be baptized.

Seth had sat alone in his cell for hours afterward, thinking about his community and rules and Jesus and Bethanne. He’d prayed for forgiveness and he’d prayed for clarity. But even though he knew he’d made a lot of mistakes in his life, he didn’t believe that helping Bethanne had been one of them. Her cries for help couldn’t have been ignored.

---