Finding Home by Georgia Beers Page A

squatted down so he could see her.
    “Hey, Bentley,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “How’re you doing, buddy?” He dropped the ball and sat, his head still tilted and his expression looking as if he was actually smiling.
    Sarah wasn’t sure he remembered her. Could he? It had been nearly Þ ve months, after all, and people were always talking about dogs having no concept of time and no long-term memory.
    She’d never believed that. Her parents had a dog while she was growing up that could remember when a kernel of popcorn had skittered under the stove. For days on end, he got up each morning to lie across the linoleum with his nose pressed to the bottom of the stove and whine softly. Sarah had Þ nally used a wooden spoon to retrieve the morsel. Only then did the dog actually leave the kitchen and get on with life.
    Bentley, however, seemed like any other dog she might run into in the park—friendly, wanting to be petted, hoping she’d throw the ball for him. She couldn’t tell if maybe he actually knew
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    FINDING HOME
    who she was but was too caught up in the ball game to give her a proper hello. The thought depressed her and she felt deß ated.
    She rufß ed his fur, then picked up the ball and hurled it, unable to bear looking at his adorable face, not wanting to continue wondering. Natalie was watching her carefully, obviously trying to Þ gure her out.
    “Maybe I should just go,” she said softly, tearing her gaze from the hold Natalie seemed to have on her.
    “Overseas where?” Natalie asked as Bentley skidded to a halt and dropped the ball at her feet.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Andrea said you were overseas.” She threw the ball an impressive distance.
    Sarah nodded in recognition. “Ah. Andrea. The girlfriend.”
    “She’s not my girlfriend.”
    “No? She certainly protected you like one.” The snippiness crept in before Sarah realized it.
    “She loves me.” At Sarah’s raised eyebrow, Natalie stumbled on, trying for an explanation. “Like a sister. She loves me like a sister. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
    Sarah couldn’t help the small grin that appeared because the look on Natalie’s face very clearly said she’d revealed something by accident. She looked almost mortiÞ ed, and Sarah’s satisfaction at having the upper hand lasted all of four seconds. Then she wanted to make Natalie feel better, so she said, “I don’t have one, either.” And then she was annoyed at herself. I shouldn’t be making her feel better.
    “And your ex is getting married.” Sarah whipped her head around to glare at Natalie, who had the good sense to look chagrined. “You mentioned it last night.”
    “Yeah, well, it’s none of your business and I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Fine.”
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    GEORGIA BEERS
    By unspoken agreement, they’d begun to walk the perimeter of the large Þ eld, Bentley alternately chasing the ball, bringing it back, and following next to Natalie.
    “So,” Natalie said as they strolled. “Overseas where?”
    Apparently, not talking wasn’t an option for her. Sarah answered grudgingly. “New Zealand.”
    “Really?” The hazel of her eyes twinkled merrily as Natalie looked up at her. “Wow. That’s amazing. I’d love to go there someday. What was it like?”
    Sarah found herself torn. She didn’t want to be talking to this woman. This woman was a thief as far as she was concerned and didn’t deserve the time of day from her. At the same time, there was something about her, something that drew Sarah, something she had no intention of exploring or thinking about, so answering the questions was probably the best way to keep the weirdness at bay. She took a deep breath, then blew it out loudly before speaking, making it clear that she didn’t really want to be talking in some friendly, hey-look-at-us-we’re-pals kind of way. Not to Natalie.
    “It was nice.”
    The grimace on Natalie’s face was followed by the narrowing