“Right now.” He tossed his phone from hand to hand, catching it each time but worrying Harmony he’d drop it and crack the screen all the same. She cringed at the memory of all the good phones she’d lost being careless.

The pastor must have caught her discomfort, because he suddenly stopped and dropped his phone back into his pocket. “And she’s bringing Muffin,” he said with what looked like it may have been a wink.

“That’s nice of you both, but I’m really not hungry. I need to—”

He laughed again. “Not muffins, Muffin. Your new dog.”

“Dog?” Well, that couldn’t be right. Why on God’s green earth would Pastor Adam think she needed or wanted a dog?

He eyed her so contentedly after delivering his announcement that she had to put an end to this crazy notion immediately.

“No, no, no. I think there’s been some kind of mistake.”

“Well, he’s really more of a loaner dog, but—boy howdy—do you two need each other.” He was dead serious about this, and she was dead set against it.

“I’m not really in the position to…” She let her words trail off. If she explained that she didn’t yet have a job or a place to stay, then the pastor would no doubt spring to further action, call in more favors, keep her hostage until he was absolutely certain that she was fully provided for.

“Please,” he said firmly and with a sad smile. “You need comforting, Harmony. You need someone who understands and won’t ask too many questions. I’m only human, but Muffin, he’s a certified therapy dog and one of God’s most special miracles.”

This assertion shocked her into silence. Didn’t therapy dogs stay with their trainers? Why would the pastor—who hadn’t seen her in nearly ten years, by the way—thrust a dog on her mere minutes after becoming reacquainted? It just didn’t make any sense.

“This dog… Muffin… is a miracle?” she asked slowly to make sure she understood him right. Ten years was a long time. Perhaps Pastor Adam had gone crazy since she’d last seen him. Anything was possible, after all.

“Sure as I’m standing here. Have you heard the story of our church dogs before? It’s been about a year since they found us now, a very good year.”

“Um, no,” Harmony said. Don’t appear ungrateful, she reminded herself, but don’t get suckered into taking a dog, either!

Pastor Adam stood straighter and spoke animatedly with his hands. He’d clearly told this story many times before. “It was two Christmases back—like I said, just over a year. I forgot my phone at the pulpit after delivering the Christmas Eve sermon. When I went back—”

“Are you only telling Muffin’s origin story just now? I’d have figured that would be the first thing out of your mouth.” The pastor’s daughter, Abigail, swept into the foyer with a baby on her hip and two tiny dogs walking beside her on leashes.

Harmony hadn’t even heard her come in, such was the volume and the vigor of Pastor Adam’s storytelling.