Barbara Samuel by Dog Heart

J essie spied the truck through the window—nothing ostentatious, just a solid, late-model truck that any number of men might drive. Like the man who stepped out of the cab now, his dark hair shorn close to his head. He was leaner than he had been five years ago, and as he rounded the truck to the other side, he limped noticeably. Her heart did a little flip-flop of… nervousness? Anticipation?
    Marcus Stone had been the love of her life from the time they were in seventh grade until the day she finally broke it off five years before, when they were twenty-two. She had, finally, started dating other men. Once in a while.
    If he had called for any other reason, she would not have agreed to see him. But as he came forward, that reason came into view. Staff Sergeant Thor.
    Thor had been a combat dog, attached to a SEAL unit engaged in a top secret mission in Afghanistan that had gone wrong. One SEAL had been killed, five more badly injured. Thor was one of them.
    So was Marcus. Jessie put a careful box around that knowledge, set it aside. She would not be drawn in.
    Instead she focused on the dog. He was a brown and gold German shepherd, mixed with a little something else because he had long hair, which had gone a little raggedy. He was the kind of dog people always wanted to approach, to pat on the head, the long dark nose and soft-looking fur drawing on some ancient need in the human spirit.
    Sgt. Thor was in no mood for the hungry pats of children. He wore a harness attached to a leash gripped tightly in Marcus’s powerful hand. The dog’s shoulders were hunched warily as they began to cross the parking lot. Thor, too, limped visibly. When coaxed, he moved forward a few steps, then halted again. Marcus didn’t yank on him, just waited patiently, standing alongside, then tried to urge the canine along a little more. Thor crept forward, his entire body apprehensive—belly close to the ground, head low.
    “Poor baby,” Jessie said aloud. She grabbed a bag of chicken breast tidbits off the counter, and headed outside to meet the pair. “It’s all right,” she called, coming outside. “Don’t force it. I’ll come to him.”
    Marcus nodded, raising a hand in acknowledgement. “Come easy. He can get pretty aggressive if you approach too fast.”
    “Got it.” Jessie knelt to bring herself to a less intimidating height. From a few feet away, she said, “Hello, Staff Sergeant Thor. Would you like a treat?” She held out her hand, palm down and offered it to the dog. He balefully looked her, then up to his handler.
    Jessie steeled herself to look at him, too. Marcus was not quite six feet tall, and lean. Always the leanest, strongest guy in school. He wore jeans and a t-shirt that revealed arms that were tattooed—and scarred. White marks riddled the tanned flesh of his left forearm in arcs. His laser-blue eyes zapped her, and against her will, she felt the same old burst of love/yearning/fury.
    “Thanks for doing this, Jess,” he said.
    “It wasn’t for you,” she returned, then took a breath. High emotion would do the dog no good at all.
    “Still. Thanks.”
    “Yep.” She focused back on Thor, watching him, looking at his body language, his face. “It’s all right, boy,” Jessie said. “Take your time.” She stayed where she was, body relaxed. “Tell me about him, Marcus. His handler was killed?”
    “Yes.” The word was gruff. “Sniper got him in the attack. I always promised Dane that I’d look after Thor if anything happened to him. Not doing the best job so far.”
    Jessie eased a little closer, and Thor lifted his head slightly, nostrils quivering. She paused, turned her hand over. “Thor was also injured?”
    “Both of us where. Thor took a bullet to the shoulder. We almost lost him, but I got him out in time.”
    “I see.” That would account for the limp. Dog and man.
    Thor abruptly settled on the ground, his body relaxing. She reached in and offered the treat. He took it gingerly.