Nicholas's Story
Copyright© 2025 by writer 406
Chapter 46
Nicholas finished his morning exercise routine and stepped onto the deck of his newly completed house, breathing in the fresh summer scent of cedar and morning dew. His home was finally complete. A modest but perfectly proportioned home that seemed to emerge naturally from the forest clearing.
But lately, the house felt too quiet.
He was picking up occasional jobs in Seattle—mostly spiral staircases, timber frame houses and the occasional treehouse that thanks to his reputation. The work was satisfying, and he had an outline for a new book taking shape in his mind, exploring the intersection of traditional craft and modern living. Yet something was missing from his carefully ordered life.
As he walked the familiar path through his property, his mind drifted back to a conversation with his friend, Aiko. They had been discussing the concept of home, of what made a space truly alive rather than merely functional.
“A house without a heartbeat is just architecture,” Aiko had said. “You need something that brings irregular rhythms, unexpected moments. Something that needs you as much as you need it.”
The memory crystallized into sudden clarity. “I think I’d like a dog,” Nicholas said aloud to the morning forest. “I’ve never had a dog.”
The decision, once made, felt inevitable. He had spent a good part of his adult life building structures for others, creating spaces that would shelter families and communities. Now he wanted something simpler—companionship that asked nothing more than daily care and offered everything in return.
Without overthinking it, he took the path that led toward Emily’s property. Over the past months, they had developed an easy neighborliness that carefully skirted the edges of something deeper. Coffee shared on respective decks, help with heavy lifting when her hot water tank needed replacing, his patient answers to the twins’ endless questions about how houses stayed upright and trees grew so tall.
They were comfortable with each other now, but still cautious, both afraid to acknowledge what was developing between them.
Nicholas knocked on Emily’s front door, hearing immediate sounds of activity from within—the twins’ voices, footsteps on hardwood, the domestic symphony of a house fully lived in. When the door opened, Amy and Tyler stood there in matching overalls, their faces lighting up at the sight of him.
“Mr. Nicholas!” Amy exclaimed. “Are you here to see the fort we built?”
“We used Mom’s books for the walls,” Tyler added. “She wasn’t very happy about it.”
“Maybe later,” Nicholas said with a slight smile. “Right now, I have a question for you. Do you guys want to go on an adventure?”
Both children perked up immediately, sensing something significant in his tone.
“What kind of adventure?” Amy asked, ever the more cautious of the twins.
“Go get your mom,” Nicholas said. “We’re going to go find ourselves a puppy.”
The squeals that erupted could probably be heard across the sound. Both of them took off at full speed, their voices echoing through the house: “MOM! MOM! MR. Nicholas WANTS TO GET A PUPPY AND TAKE US WITH HIM!”
Emily appeared moments later, her auburn hair slightly disheveled, wearing jeans and a simple sweater that somehow looked elegant on her tall frame. Her expression mixed amusement with the wariness of a mother presented with an unexpected expedition involving her children.
“A puppy?” She asked, studying Nicholas’s face for signs of impulsiveness or poor judgment.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he said honestly. “Never had one growing up. Seems like the right time now.”
“Can we help pick it out?” Tyler bounced on his toes. “Can we? Can we?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Nicholas replied. “I figure kids know more about puppies than I do.”
Emily found herself caught between her natural caution and the undeniable excitement radiating from the twins. When was the last time they had been this animated about anything? When was the last time she had done something spontaneous?
“Where exactly are we going?” She asked, already knowing she was going to say yes.
“Island Pet Rescue,” Nicholas said. “I called ahead. They have several dogs that might be good matches.”
Twenty minutes later, they were piled into Nicholas’s truck. The twins sat in the back seat, practically vibrating with excitement as they bombarded Nicholas with questions about what kind of dog he wanted, what he would name it, where it would sleep, whether it would like to swim.
“You realize you’re not just getting a dog,” Emily said quietly as they drove toward the rescue facility. “You’re getting two additional dog trainers who will have very strong opinions about everything.”
“I was counting on that,” Nicholas replied, and something in his tone made her look at him more carefully. There was more to this expedition that went beyond simply acquiring a pet.
That gave an unexpected thrill of happiness.
The Island Pet Rescue was housed in a converted barn on the west side of the island, surrounded by exercise yards and walking paths. The moment they pulled into the gravel parking lot, they could hear barking from various buildings, a chorus of hope and longing that tugged at the heart.
Sarah Wilson, the facility director, met them at the entrance. A woman in her fifties with kind eyes and dog hair decorating her fleece jacket, she had the particular energy of someone who had dedicated her life to matching animals with families.
“You must be Nicholas,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Sarah. And these must be the young dog experts you mentioned.”
Amy and Tyler nodded solemnly, clearly taking their roles seriously.
“We’ve narrowed it down to three possibilities based on your conversation,” Sarah continued. “All are good with children; all would thrive in a rural setting. But I’d like you to meet each one and see who you connect with and who connects with you.”
She led them through a series of clean, well-lit kennels toward the back of the facility. The sounds of barking grew louder, mixed with the occasional whine or howl. Many of the dogs pressed against their kennel doors as they passed, seeking attention, offering wet noses and wagging tails through the chain link.
“This is Rocky,” Sarah said, stopping at the first kennel. “He’s a German Shepherd mix, about two years old. Very intelligent, very loyal. He’d make an excellent guard dog.”
Rocky was indeed impressive—alert, well-muscled, with the kind of focused attention that suggested both intelligence and wariness. He approached the kennel door with dignified interest, neither begging for attention nor backing away.
“He’s beautiful,” Emily observed. “But maybe a bit intense for a first dog?”
Nicholas nodded, sensing the same thing. Rocky needed an experienced handler, someone who understood pack dynamics and could provide the kind of structured leadership he required.