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F ive months later...

Matt stood in the main corridor of the new Paws of Hope Animal Shelter and Wildlife Rehabilitation Center, still amazed that it was real.

The facility stretched out before him like something from a dream.

Large examination rooms, state-of-the-art surgical suites, and specialized housing units had been designed for everything from tiny songbirds to large raptors.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Lynda said softly from beside him. Her voice was filled with wonder as she gazed through the large windows that overlooked the nearly completed wolfdog habitat.

Matt followed her gaze to where Star and her four siblings were exploring their new permanent home.

It was a sprawling enclosure that perfectly balanced their wild heritage with the educational mission of the center.

The habitat featured natural rock formations, a small stream, and plenty of space for the adolescent wolfdogs to roam and explore.

“Patrick and his team have worked miracles,” Matt replied as he watched the construction workers finish the visitor walkway that would allow guests to observe the animals without disturbing them. “Without them, we’d still be looking at another year of construction.”

The decision to use prefabricated modules had been brilliant.

Each unit was custom-built for specific wildlife needs, then transported and assembled on-site by the same crew that had constructed the tiny homes at the old steamboat museum.

Patrick Devlin’s expertise in modular construction had proven invaluable, and his dedication to the project had gone far beyond professional obligation.

“Mom would have loved this,” Stephanie said, appearing at Matt’s elbow with her children in tow. She’d driven up from Missoula for the open house, bringing Lily and Ethan to see the facility they’d heard so much about.

“She would have,” Matt agreed, his throat tightening slightly. “She always said we needed better facilities for wildlife cases.”

Lily pressed her face against the glass partition that separated them from a recovering great horned owl. “Grandpa, when will she be able to fly again?”

“In another week or two,” Matt replied, moving to stand behind his granddaughter. “Her wing fracture is healing beautifully, thanks to the specialized care we can provide here.”

Ethan frowned. “How do you keep the animal houses warm?”

Lynda crouched down to his level, her face lighting up with the enthusiasm she always showed when discussing their work.

“Each enclosure has its own climate system. See those vents up there? They can create everything from desert conditions for certain reptiles to the cool, moist environment that frogs and other amphibians need.”

The sound of approaching voices drew Matt’s attention to the entrance. Members of the community were beginning to arrive for the open house. Mayor Wilson led the way, followed by Carol, Brenda, and what looked like half of Sapphire Bay.

“The place is incredible,” Mayor Wilson announced, his voice carrying the pride of someone who’d championed the project from the beginning. “This facility is one of the best in Montana for wildlife conservation. I’ve already had inquiries from other states about partnering with us.”

Carol bustled over, carrying a clipboard and wearing the slightly frazzled expression of someone coordinating a major event. “Matt, the local news crew wants to interview you in about ten minutes. And the representative from the state wildlife department would like a tour of the raptor facilities.”

“Of course,” Matt said, though part of him was reluctant to leave Lynda’s side. They’d worked so hard to reach this moment, and he wanted to savor it with her.

As if reading his thoughts, Lynda squeezed his arm gently. “Go do your interviews. I’ll handle the technical tours. We can meet up later.”

The next hour passed in a whirlwind of handshakes, photographs, and detailed explanations of the center’s capabilities.

Matt described the same features repeatedly—the surgical suite that rivaled any human hospital, the quarantine facilities that could handle everything from rabies exposure to exotic diseases, and the educational classroom where school groups would learn about wildlife conservation.

Through it all, he was acutely aware of the small velvet box in his jacket pocket.

He’d been carrying it for three weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to propose to Lynda.

Tonight felt right. They were surrounded by everything they’d built together, with the community celebrating their shared vision.

But every time he thought he’d found a quiet moment, someone else approached with questions or congratulations.

“Matt!” Brenda appeared at his elbow, her eyes bright with excitement. “Pastor John is here, and he’d like to give a blessing for the facility. I asked Lynda if she wanted to say something before John spoke, but she asked if you could do it.”

Matt glanced around the crowded main corridor, taking in the faces of people who’d supported them through the fire and the months of rebuilding.

Tommy stood near the wolfdog habitat with Frank and Isabel, his notebook out as he documented everything for what had become an ongoing school project.

Kathleen and Patrick were examining the volunteer coordination center; their heads bent together in quiet conversation.

Amy had arrived that morning and was deep in discussion with Stephanie.

“All right,” Matt said, accepting the small microphone Brenda handed him. “Let’s gather everyone together.”

It took several minutes to move everyone into the main corridor.

“Three months ago,” he began, his voice carrying clearly through the space, “we stood in the ashes of what we thought was the end of everything we’d worked for.

The old shelter was gone, and with it, years of community effort and hope. ”

He paused, his eyes finding Lynda in the crowd. She stood near the wolfdog habitat, Star visible behind her in the new enclosure. The sight of them together—the woman who’d changed his life and the small creature they’d saved together—nearly made him lose his composure.

“What we discovered,” Matt continued, “is that buildings can burn, but dreams that are shared by an entire community are fireproof. What you see around you tonight isn’t only an animal shelter and wildlife rehabilitation center.

It’s proof that when people come together with a common purpose, there’s no obstacle too great to overcome. ”

Applause filled the corridor, and Matt waited for it to subside before continuing.

“This facility exists because of all of you. Tommy, who refused to let his wolf education project die with the fire. Kathleen Armstrong, who opened her home to five wolfdog puppies and made it work. Isabel Stewart, who coordinated supply drives and reminded us that books and learning are just as important as bandages and medicine. And Patrick Devlin, whose construction expertise turned our timeline from impossible to miraculous.”

There was more applause as Patrick ducked his head modestly while Kathleen beamed with pride beside him.

“Carol, who never stopped believing we could rebuild better than before. Brenda, who kept everything running when I was too stubborn to stay in bed and recover properly. Mayor Wilson, who cut through red tape faster than I thought possible. And Dr. Lynda Morth...”

Matt’s voice caught slightly as he looked at her again. “Who could have returned to her successful practice in Denver after the fire, but chose instead to stay and help us build something extraordinary.”

The applause this time was thunderous, and Matt saw Lynda’s cheeks flush with emotion.

“Tonight, we’re not just celebrating a building,” Matt concluded. “We’re celebrating what happens when a community decides that hope is worth fighting for.”

Pastor John stepped forward then, a gentle smile on his face. “If I may,” he said, “I’d like to offer a blessing for this remarkable place and the work that will be done here.”

The crowd grew quiet as Pastor John raised his hands.

“Lord, we ask your blessing on this place of healing and hope. May the hands that work here be guided by wisdom and compassion. May the animals that find refuge here be restored to health and freedom. And may this center serve as a reminder that in caring for the least of your creatures, we care for all of creation. Amen.”

“Amen,” the crowd echoed, and Matt felt a profound sense of completion wash over him.

As people walked to different parts of the building for refreshments and individual tours, Matt caught sight of large snowflakes falling outside the windows. The timing felt perfect—crisp white snow falling on their winter miracle.

He made his way toward Lynda, his hand instinctively moving to the ring box in his pocket. She was standing alone now, watching Star and her siblings settle into their new home, and the expression on her face was one of pure contentment.

This was it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for.

But just as he reached her side, Carol appeared again with the state wildlife representative in tow, eager to discuss funding opportunities for expansion. Matt stifled a groan of frustration and forced a smile.

The perfect moment would have to wait just a little longer.