Page 16 of Sometimes You Stay

“Okay,” his mom called. “But bring her down here when you get a chance. We want to meet her.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. But he said only, “We’ll see.”

“Say hi to the Fab Four for us,” his dad said in lieu of a goodbye.

With a quick “I will,” Finn flipped his phone closed and shoved it into his pocket.

Squatting down in front of Ringo, who was still pressed against the fence, Finn scratched his ears through the chain link. “You going to set the rhythm for this group?” he asked.

The pup barked a joyful response. More likely he was just hungry, so Finn set about measuring the all-natural kibble into four silver tins. The puppies had only been eating solids for a few weeks, so he added a dash of water over each to keep them soft.

Balancing the puppy-sized bowls, two in his left hand and two in the crook of his left arm, he let himself into the kennel with his other hand. John, Paul, George, and Ringo lopedtoward him, tangling between his legs. Their little black faces looked up with eager expectation, and their high-pitched yaps filled the barn from floor to wooden roof beams.

“Hey now, everyone calm down.”

They did not.

Not that he’d expected them too. And the sound of his voice only seemed to rile them up, making them hop on his feet and wag their long tails.

He’d just begun training them, so he didn’t bother giving them a command as he leaned down to put their dishes next to each other. This evening was about socializing them. Playing with them. He’d been gone far longer than he’d planned, and he needed to help them get rid of some of their energy.

Three little rumps lifted right in the air as the heads disappeared into their bowls. John, sporting his green collar, jumped a few times, and Finn gave him one more head scratch before pointing him to the bowl.

He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a litter with so few puppies. For the last few years Maisey had delivered at least seven with each litter. One year she’d had twelve.

Four was an anomaly. Four boys at that.

He’d really had no choice but to name them after the Beatles, his dad’s favorite band. Finn still had all their albums on vinyl, and he’d fully planned on naming Joe Sgt. Pepper. Until his mom got the idea in her head that Joe Jr. was the only option. There had been no arguing with her.

But one of these days, Finn was going to have a Sgt. Pepper. Then he wouldn’t be the only one in the Lonely Hearts Club.

And maybe his folks would back off a little bit.

And maybe he wouldn’t feel quite so alone.

Not that he was by himself. Six adult Newfoundlands barked from the adjoining kennel separated by a solid wood fence, and Finn strolled over to feed them too. They all rushed toward the food, jostling him and each other for position. All except for Bella, who waddled with her very pregnant belly. The vet had said she was carrying eleven, and Finn prayed they all survived.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He squatted at her eye level, running a gentle hand from the top of her head to her swollen side. “How you feeling? ’Bout ready to have these kiddos?”

She slobbered all over his shoulder.

He’d take that as a yes.

In a few days he’d set up a whelping bed and move her into the birthing room off the front of the barn. She was probably still a week or so away, but this was only her second litter, and he’d rather be ready just in case he’d misjudged her.

With eleven more pups on the way, he had no business feeling lonely. He had more than enough work to keep any man busy. And more than enough mouths depending on him to feed them.

And his dad depending on him to carry on the Chaffey legacy. Both the family business and the family name.

But managing one didn’t leave much time for the other.

Sure, he’d thought about marriage and a family of his own a few times over the years. Not a particular woman—just the concept. And he liked the idea. Coming inside on a cold December day to a warm hug and a soft kiss. Sitting across the table from a kind smile. Sharing the weight of the business and his dad’s expectations. Waking up every morning next to the woman he would love for the rest of his life.

All good things.

Except he’d never met anyone he wanted those things with.

Sweet girls. Pretty ladies. Kind women. He’d met every single one in North Rustico, PEI. Before moving to Summerside, his mom had paraded half the female population of the north shore past him.

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