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himself as he tried to maintain control of the basket and the puppies. "I don't know how to take care of puppies or anything for that matter. Just myself, you know. I just take care of myself."
    Father Miles nodded as he opened the door to Ryan's car. "They can't take care of themselves, Ryan. They need you. And Kara, of course."
    Kara. Right. Ryan was beginning to dislike her already. Not only had she sent him the damn invitation, but now he had to take care of her puppies. He set the basket down on the floor in front of the passenger seat. It was a tight fit, but he managed to close the door.
    "God be with you," Father Miles called.
    Ryan looked up at the sky. He had the distinct feeling that God had a sense of humor.

     

Chapter Four
     
    Ryan glanced at the wicker basket. The puppies stared back at him, big brown eyes filled with the wonder of life. He now knew where the expression "puppy dog eyes" came from. It would be difficult to deny these little doggies anything.
    "Just stay right there," he warned, "or you'll be in big trouble." One of the puppies barked in obvious delight. Maybe talking to them wasn't a good idea. He didn't want them to think he actually liked them, although they were kind of cute. Nothing like Max, the German shepherd his father had raised from a pup. That dog had scared him to death. Max had not been the kind of dog you could pull on your lap or snuggle up to on a cold winter night. He had been an outdoor dog, a hunting companion for his father.
    Ryan turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the parking lot. Fifty yards down the highway, one of the puppies crawled out of the basket and onto the passenger seat. Ryan tried to push the dog back into the basket, but the puppy playfully licked his hand. Ryan winced at the moisture. "Come on, little doggy. There you go."
    One dog in, another dog out. Then the third. Suddenly all three puppies were crawling on the front seat, over the console, onto his lap.
    "Oh, shit." Ryan tried to drive with one hand as he grabbed for the puppies. As if in reply, one of the dogs peed on his pant leg. Ryan groaned. "I'm going to kill you," he said to the puppy. "Right after I kill Kara Delaney."
    The puppy put his head down on Ryan's leg with a woebegone expression. "All right, maybe I won't kill you."
    Ryan took the turnoff onto Main Street. There was a new stop sign at the corner; still not much traffic, but it looked as if someone was hoping. He drove farther down the street, under the faded white arches that read Serenity Springs, past Ike's Barber Shop, Miller's Grocery, Nellie's Diner, and Swanson's Bar.
    The buildings on Main Street were rundown, some in desperate need of a paint job. A few of the storefronts were boarded up. The five-and-dime was gone. The bicycle shop was gone. But there was a new yogurt shop, and some construction was going on at the corner of Main Street and Jordan Road.
    Down one of the side streets he could see the banner for his father's newspaper, The Sentinel. Down another street he saw the post office and the bank, a movie theater still showing one of the Rocky movies, and the recreation center.
    He got mixed feelings from the town. Some streets seemed deserted. Others looked on their way to restoration, as if the town was divided into two factions, people who wanted to move on and people who didn't.
    At the end of Main Street, Ryan turned left. He drove down familiar residential streets. He remembered playing kick ball, trick-or-treating on Halloween, playing hide-and-seek on late summer evenings, and catching butterflies in the springtime.
    The carefree days of his childhood had become less enchanted after his mother left. By the time he reached his teens, the small town had become too small for him, like a prison, barring him from his dreams.
    Thank God he had gotten out.
    While Ryan was reminiscing, one of the puppies started to bark, then uttered a coughing, choking sound, and finally threw up on the passenger