Where Angels Go (Angels Everywhere #6)(35)

“Carter,” his father said gently. “Rusty came to you because he thought you’d feed him.”

“Not at first,” Carter insisted. “He didn’t know about the Twinkie.”

“He could probably smell it in your pocket. Dogs have a keen sense of smell.”

“Oh.”

“As for him following you home?”

“Yes, he…Rusty’s not just any dog. He’s smart and he listens and he understands, too.”

His father crouched down so they were eye to eye. “Did you encourage him to follow you?” he asked.

“He followed the bus! I told you, Dad—he’s smart.”

Reaching out, his father rested a hand on Carter’s shoulder. “Rusty could see that you liked him.”

“It’s more than that!” Carter cried. “I prayed really hard and God sent me Rusty. He was so muddy I…I didn’t even know his fur was red until I gave him a bath.”

“In our tub?” his father asked.

Carter nodded reluctantly.

His father stood and cast him a disapproving look.

“Did he make a mess?” The question was directed at Carter’s mother.

“I cleaned it up,” Carter inserted. “Tell him, Mom, tell Dad that I washed out the bathtub and everything.”

“He did,” she confirmed, handing his father a mug of fresh coffee.

David accepted it, closing his eyes as he took his first sip. “I’m glad you cleaned up after the dog.”

Relieved, Carter offered his father a hopeful smile. “It was like God was telling me this dog was for me because he had red fur.”

A pained look appeared on his father’s face. “Did you stop to think that Rusty might belong to another little boy?”

The thought had never entered Carter’s mind. “Rusty might have another family?”

His father set the mug aside and put his hand on Carter’s shoulder once again. “There could be a little boy out there who’s lost his dog.”

“Not Rusty,” Carter said with certainty.

“We can’t be sure of anything when it comes to a stray.”

Carter shook his head. “Rusty needs a family,” he stated boldly. “Our family. He adopted us.”

The same sad look came over his father. “I wish we could keep him. He seems like a nice dog.”

“He’s a wonderful dog, and he’s housebroken and he doesn’t eat much. He can have my food.”

David drew one hand across his face. “If it was just a matter of food, we could deal with that, but it isn’t. I already explained this to you, Carter. There are the vet’s fees for one thing. Since Rusty’s been on the streets for a while, he should be checked out by a veterinarian.”

“I’ll pay for it with my allowance,” Carter said. “I have thirty dollars and seventy-six cents.”

“David,” his mother murmured in a soft, pleading voice.

“That wouldn’t begin to cover the cost of a checkup and shots. And what if he needs some kind of treatment? Then there’s the license and heaven knows what else. We can’t keep him, Carter. I don’t want to sound heartless but we’d be doing Rusty a disservice, too.”

Carter didn’t want to cry but his eyes filled with tears before he could hold them back.

His mother wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she whispered.

“Where will you take him?” Carter sobbed, looking up at his father.

“He’ll have to go to the animal shelter.”

“No, Daddy, please!” Bailey came into the kitchen, dragging her stuffed Winnie the Pooh bear on the linoleum. She was still in her pajamas and her hair was all frizzy because she’d gone to bed with it wet.

“Can’t Rusty stay until Christmas?” Carter begged.

“That’ll just make it harder to give him up,” his father said. “Besides, we don’t know if he’s picked up any parasites, and the sooner he’s checked out, the better.”

Rusty lay down on the small rug in front of the kitchen sink and rested his head on his paws. Bailey sat on the floor next to him.

“Get up, Bailey. He probably has fleas.”

“No, he doesn’t, Dad,” Carter said. “I washed him real good. Ask Mom.”

“We’ll take him down to the shelter this afternoon,” his father said, not waiting to see if Bailey obeyed him. He walked out of the kitchen.

“Mom?” Carter could feel the tears running down his face.

“You heard your father.” She looked like she wanted to cry, too.

“But…”

“Remember what Dad said about some other little boy losing Rusty? Can you imagine how happy he’ll be to find him?”

Carter tried to imagine what it would be like to lose his dog and how awful he’d feel. Sniffling, he wiped his cheeks with one sleeve.

“If we take Rusty to the animal shelter, that little boy will get him back,” his mother went on in a reassuring voice.

Being brave was hard, but Carter did his best. His lower lip quivered and he sat down on the floor and buried his face in the dog’s fur. Bailey sat on Rusty’s other side, clutching her bear and murmuring sweetly. As if seeking a way to comfort him, Rusty licked Carter’s hand.