Free janet dailey- the healing touch by Janet Dailey Page B

white towel that Rebecca had given him. "I can't take him home. Katie will claim him right away."
    Rebecca shrugged. "Let her have him."
    "I'd like to, but she has enough responsibility right now, caring for Rosebud. Rosie is her first pet. I don't want to overload her with too much too fast."
    "I understand, but that does leave you with a problem. He's going to need a lot of care, especially for the next few weeks. Middle-of-the-night feedings, all that."
    "Not interested in having a dog, are you?" He gave her a beguiling smile and held the puppy out to her. "Here, I'll give him to you for a birthday present. Happy birthday, Rebecca! Don't ever say I never gave you anything."
    She laughed and shook her head. "Nice try, but my birthday was four months ago."
    "Happy Thanksgiving? Merry Christmas, maybe?"
    The puppy was cute and the offer tempting. But Rebecca had learned long ago that she couldn't adopt every cute, four-legged creature that needed a home. "Nope," she said. "You found him. You are responsible for him. I'm sure you'll find him an excellent home."
    "But how? I'm new in town. I don't know anyone."
    "Gee, what a great opportunity to meet your neighbors!"
    He scowled at her and raised one eyebrow. "I'm learning something about you, Rebecca Barclay. You are not a nice lady."
    "I'm a very nice lady. But I'm not going to puppy-sit for you."
    Rebecca enjoyed watching the wheels turning in his head. He was in a difficult position, to be sure, but she didn't intend to help him out of it. So many times she had witnessed the power of a small, whimpery fur ball to melt a heart encased in ice. Nothing broke down the barriers faster than the disarming innocence and charm of a puppy or kitten.
    Michael Stafford needed this pup more than the dog needed him, whether he knew it or not. Even if only for a few hours.
    "Take him home with you, hide him in your room so that Katie doesn't see him, and by tomorrow morning you'll probably have a great plan."
    Michael sighed and tucked the dog back inside his jacket. "Yeah, sure. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. Unless I can truss him up like a turkey, no one is going to be interested."
    She stood, banded him a bag full of puppy formula and ushered him to the door.
    "Hey, wait a minute! I know what you can do!" she said brightly.
    He perked up instantly, gullible and hopeful. "What? What can I do?"
    "He's already black. Just stick a white collar on him and pass him off as a pilgrim."
    Chapter Six
     
    M ichael hung up the telephone and flopped back on his bed, exhausted. Beneath the covers he could feel a soft wet nose, sniffing at his ankle. The tiny lump under the blanket slowly moved up his pajama leg to his knee.
    "Don't tell me...you're hungry again?" He reached between the sheets and pulled the pup out by the loose scruff of his neck. He held the animal up to his face and looked him in the eye. "I just fed you at seven, and six, and five, and four, and... no wonder I'm tired. I don't remember Katie being this much trouble when we first brought her home."
    Michael had to admit that she might have been this difficult, but he wouldn't have known. Those were the old days when he and a lot of other men believed that parenting young children was a pastime only for women. Beverly had been the one to roll out of bed at all hours of the day and night for feedings, changings, fanny pattings and lullabies.
    Now, looking back, Michael wasn't particularly proud of his record. He could have helped a bit more. Who was he kidding? He could have helped a lot more.
    Reaching for the miniature baby bottle, which he had wrapped in a heati ng pad to keep it warm, he won dered if that had been such a great idea. Last night it had seemed brilliant, but he had been half-asleep. This morning the concept seemed dubious, maybe even dangerous.
    "Here you go, Bruiser," he said, popping the nipple into the dog's mouth. "Chugalug. At least somebody will get to eat today."
    He had spent the past hour on the phone,