Saving Grace by Katie Graykowski

house.
    He sniffed the air expecting the enticing scent of food cooking, but all he smelled was the Pine Sol used by the cleaning company on their weekly cleaning visit.
    He followed the muffled sound of laughter to the backyard. Standing behind his huge grill in the outdoor kitchen he rarely used, was Grace. The urge to run and kiss her was so strong, but he checked it and laid his metal briefcase on a chair.
    “Woof.” A creature that was part St. Bernard and part Clydesdale bounded up to him, stuck his nose in Chord’s crouch, sniffed, backed up and nodded.
    He turned to Grace for an explanation.
    “We’re fostering Clementine.” Grace nodded to the dog. “He needs a good home, and we’re going to find him one.”
    He shot her a yeah-right look. Grace had “sucker” written all over her. Looks like he’d just gotten a new dog. He shrugged. It wasn’t a bad idea. He loved dogs and had always wanted one, but he’d pictured a dog more golden retriever and less Sasquatch, but he was flexible.
    “What’s with the lifejacket?” He scratched behind the dog’s ears, and Clementine melted against him.
    “He’s afraid of water.” Grace pulled off a paper towel covering a plate full of raw steak. One by one, she slapped them on the hot grill. They sizzled and filled the air with the aroma of grilling meat. Both he and Clementine shivered in delight.
    “Wait, Clementine? But he’s a boy.” He eyed the dog. “Why don’t we call him Clem?”
    Clementine barked his disapproval.
    “He prefers Clementine.” Grace cut off a small bite of cooking meat and tossed it to Clementine who caught it in the air.
    “Don’t feed him from the table.” Chord feigned horror. “You’ll spoil him.”
    “I’m not at the table…he’s not at the table.” Grace set her tongs next to the grill, wiped her hands on the dishtowel that was always draped over her left shoulder, and walked to them. She knelt down in front of Clementine and vigorously scratched his back. “You’re not spoiled, are you boy? No, you’re not. And if you are, you have a right to be.”
    With his impossibly large tongue, Clementine mopped her face with dog spit.
    “Daddy, we got a dog!” From the side yard, Cart came barreling at him with a smile that lit up his face. “His name’s Clementine.”
    He was talking…without being prompted.
    Chord caught Grace’s eye. He sent her a silent nod of thanks.
    She winked.
    And that was that…Chord was the proud owner of a horse named Clementine.
    HW, carrying a shovel, ran up to him. “Did you meet Clementine?”
    The unadulterated glee on both of his boys’ faces made his heart smile.
    “Yes, Clementine and I’ve met.” He itched to pick up his son, but eight-year-old boys didn’t like to be held. “What’s with the shovel?”
    He puffed his chest out importantly. “Grace made me in charge of poop patrol. Every time Clementine goes poop, I get to clean it up. Man, it is gross…and huge. He has giant poops.”
    “That’s no fair. You said I could do the next one.” Cart tried to grab the shovel, but HW held tight.
    Chord stepped between the boys before a full-scale riot started. “Cart gets the next turn, and then on his day, you’ll get a turn.”
    He took the shovel from HW and handed it to Cart.
    Clementine ambled toward the sandpit with the massive swing set opposite the pool, and HW and Cart followed him.
    Chord looked around. “Where’s CoCo?”
    “She’s studying at Becca’s house. Don’t worry, I’ve called Becca’s mom and confirmed that they are actually there studying.” Grace dusted off her knees and stood.
    Chord glanced over at the boys who were following Clementine around with a shovel waiting for him to poop. “How’d you get them to fight over who gets to shovel poop?”
    She grinned, and her pretty eyes crinkled in the corners. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her…just a taste. Her lips would be soft, and he’d spent more time than he was willing to