A Dog's Way Home (20 page)

A
high, flutelike sound stirred Tam from the depths of his fevered sleep. He opened his eyes. He blinked in the light. The shadows just beyond stretched long across the melting snow. Slowly, he became aware: It was time. It was time for his girl.

But oh, he was so tired. He had tried so hard, watched for so long. He just wanted to return to that warm, safe place of deep sleep. He closed his eyes and lowered his head.

He heard it again, closer this time. His eyes flew open. Hope fluttered in his heart and took wing. He gathered his legs beneath him, stood, and swayed.

“Tam! Come here, Tam!”

Tam's great heart filled again with the sound of her voice. It sang through his soul like a long-remembered song, true as the needle of a compass.

He took one unsteady step, then two, toward the voice beyond the shadows.

“T
am! Tam! Come here, Tam!” I called over and over until my voice broke. I closed my eyes.
Please, please,
I prayed.

I opened my eyes. The crow hopped in the snow toward the rhododendron tunnel. He turned his head and looked at me with his black eyes as if to say,
What are you waiting for?

I called Tam's name again into the shadows at the opening of the rhododendron. It was hard to see in the dim light. I walked under the curved roof of branches, following that crow. Dead leaves and twigs snapped under my feet.

As my eyes adjusted to the shadows and light, I stopped.
Something moved at the far end. Something like a limping bundle of rags. A ray of sun lit the red and white coat.

I gasped. “Tam?”

The thing whimpered. It limped one, then two steps toward me, then stumbled.

“Tam!” I cried over and over. I ran to him, fell to my knees, and gathered him in my arms. He didn't weigh any more than a bundle of feathers. I could feel each and every rib through his dirty, matted coat. One of his eyes was purely a mess. But none of it mattered.

I carried him into the sunlit meadow. “I found him! He's alive!” I said to everyone as they grinned and stared at Tam in wonderment.

I held Tam close and just cried and cried. A warm tongue licked my cheek. Then Tam rested his head against my chest, and heaved the biggest sigh in the universe, like he was breathing out all the months and miles.

I kissed that special white spot on the top of his head. The snow on the ground glittered like a hundred million stars, and I had my own north star, finally, right here in my arms.

H
er smell surrounded him…grass, green apples, the salt of tears. Tears he licked from her face.

The months fell away. The mountains and high windy passes fell away. The rivers and streams, all the cold nights beneath the moon and stars, fell away. The hunger and fear and pain fell away.

All that mattered was this.

Tam listened to the steady
thump thump thump
of her heart. It filled him with hope and contentment. It healed him.

Tam wagged his tail. He looked into his girl's smiling eyes.

It did not matter to him all that he had endured. It had been time. Time to watch for his girl. And at long last she had come, and they were together again.

Finally, everything was as it should be.

First, I'd like to send a million thanks to my wonderful agent, Alyssa Eisner-Henkin, who saw a gem in the diamond in the rough. Thanks for putting me and Tam and Abby on the path home.

I owe a bucket-load of gratitude to my early readers: Patti Sherlock, Emma Galvin, Julie Steppan, Susan Hamada, Linda Broussard, Charlene Brewster, and Lisa Actor. Thank you to the most talented Susan Patron for offering her time and encouragement when I was about to give up. I'm so lucky to have
the
best critique group in the world. Thank you to Lora, Jean, and Chris for your patience, support, and crucial feedback all along the way.

This book wouldn't be what it is without the thoughtful and respectful guidance from my dream editor, Molly O'Neill. I couldn't imagine a better north star to guide
Tam and Abby home. And many thanks to Katherine Tegen for opening her heart and her publishing imprint to my book. Every author needs a warm, safe place to create and grow their dream books. Katherine Tegen Books provided that home for me.

This story would never have been given to me without Barbara Edelberg, Jim Melton, and Sheltie Rescue of Utah. Not only did they bring sheltie love into my life, they've made finding forever homes for abandoned shelties their life and their passion.

Many thanks to my first cousin, Mica Copeland, for generously showing me all the sights Abby would see in Nashville and surrounding areas, and for sharing her Barbie dolls and all their outfits with me.

And special thanks and love to the real Miss Bettis, who supported me and believed in me even when I wanted to be a frog when I grew up.

Finally, I can never express all the many ways my husband, Todd, supports and encourages me in this sometimes lonely and frustrating process of writing. He keeps me anchored.

Jacket art © 2011 by Wayne McLoughlin

Jacket design by Joel Tippie