The Christmas Dog (15 page)

Betty jumped when the phone rang. Her heart raced as she picked it up.
Please, let nothing be wrong.
To her relief, it was Gary. And he sounded cheerful. “I checked the bus schedules, Mom,” he said. “And it looks like Avery will be here in time for the Christmas Eve party tomorrow night.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Betty sighed. “Did she call you?”

“No, but Steph thinks she’s probably planning to surprise us. You know how unpredictable she can be.”

“Oh, yes . . . of course.”

“So it looks like our Christmas won’t be spoiled after all.”

“Oh, I’m so glad.” Betty tried to insert a smile into her voice.

“Thanks for your help with this, Mom. We’re just going into church now, so I’ll have to hang up.”

“Thank you for calling, dear.”

When they hung up, Betty just sighed. Why was she feeling so emotional these days? Was it old age? The time of year? Senility?

She went into her bedroom to get ready for church. She always looked forward to the Christmas Sunday service. Their church didn’t have an actual Christmas Eve or Christmas Day service like some did. But the Sunday prior to Christ- mas, they always did up right. At least that was something to look forward to.

Betty put on her favorite winter skirt, a red and black tartan plaid that Marsha had gotten for her in Scotland many years ago. Perhaps that had been the Deerwoods’ twenty-fifth anniversary trip. She topped the skirt with a black cashmere sweater that had seen better days, then went to the bureau and opened her old jewelry box. But instead of retrieving her pearls, she paused to pick up an old photo of Chuck. He’d just enlisted in the army when it was taken. As hard as it was to see him leaving for Korea, she’d thought he looked so devastatingly handsome in that uniform. And when he’d offered her an engagement ring and the promise of marriage upon his return, she couldn’t resist.

She studied his gentle brown eyes now and sighed. All these years later, she still got a sweet, warm feeling just looking into those eyes. So much love, compassion, tenderness . . . Oh, how she missed him. But, she reminded herself, each passing year brought her closer to their reunion.

She replaced the photo on the lace runner and sighed. She picked up her pearls (the ones Chuck had brought her from the Orient) and put them around her neck, checking the clasp to make sure it was connected.

As she went to the hall closet for her wool coat, she was still remembering Chuck’s eyes. For some strange reason—and it almost seemed disrespectful—something about her dearly departed husband’s eyes made her think of that stray mutt, Ralph. Oh, she knew there was no real relationship between the two. But something about the mutt’s eyes—maybe just the color or maybe even the warmth—reminded her of Chuck.

As she got into her car, she wondered what Chuck would think of an old woman who abandoned homeless dogs at the pound just days before Christmas. More than that, she wondered what she thought about such things herself—not that she cared to think about it anymore.

She drove slowly to church, relieved to find that the main streets had been plowed, and told herself it was ridiculous to think along these lines. Imagining that her dearly departed husband would want her to take in a stray dog was not simply ridiculous, it bordered on the verge of crazy. Perhaps even a symptom of early Alzheimer’s or dementia, although she certainly hoped not. But silly enough anyway.

Betty arrived early for church. She knew that the sanctuary could be crowded during the holidays, and she wanted to be able to sit in her regular spot. But when she got to the third row, she was dismayed to see that not only was her place taken, but so were the places where Jim and Marsha usually sat. She knew her disappointment was childish, not to mention selfish, and that the fourth row would be just fine. But feeling displaced as well as old, she simply turned around, went to the rear of the church, and sat in the very back row. Alone.

She told herself she would not feel sorry for herself as the organ played Christmas hymns. She forced a smile, or what she hoped might pass as a smile. She leaned back and closed her eyes and just listened to the music. After a couple of pieces, the choir began to sing. And soon the seats around her filled up, and although she didn’t know the people sitting next to her, there was a comfort in being invisible in the midst of strangers.

During the first part of the Christmas service, which was much the same as every year, she continued to feel distracted as she pondered over what it was in Chuck’s eyes that had brought that silly dog to mind. Well, besides plain foolishness. She sat up straighter and forced herself to focus on the children, who were dressed for the nativity story and singing “Silent Night.” She remembered when her own children did this very same thing during their grade school years. Gary had always wanted to be a shepherd, and one year, not long after Chuck had passed, their own Susan was chosen to play Mary. So long ago. So far away.

Betty used her clean hanky to dab her eyes. She had quit keeping count of how many times she’d cried this past week, and simply decided that it was just a new stage in aging. And that her best defense was to keep a handkerchief handy.

Pastor Gordon was at the pulpit now, and Betty willed herself to listen. He’d been the pastor of this church for more than two decades, and Betty had grown to respect him for both his biblical knowledge and his spiritual insights. She had missed the beginning of his Christmas sermon but was determined to listen carefully for the remainder.

“It was not so different then, more than two thousand years ago.” He nodded toward the children dressed in their robes and angel wings, who now sat restlessly in the front row. “At the first nativity, the world was not expecting this holy guest either. They were not prepared to receive this heavenly visitor, this stranger who came in the form of an innocent child. A babe, a gift from God Almighty. And yet the world needed him. They needed this gift—desperately.

“We are no different today, friends. We get caught up in the season, busily making preparations for Christmas. We decorate, bake cookies, shop, and wrap presents, and yet we aren’t truly ready. We aren’t waiting with great expectations. Our hearts aren’t prepared to receive this holy guest, this heavenly visitor. We have already settled into our preconceived notions. We have decided how this thing called Christmas is about to go down. We have our agendas, we’ve made our plans.” He chuckled. “But you know what they say about the plans of mice and men.”

Pastor Gordon leaned over the pulpit and paused, looking across the congregation as if he were about to disclose a great secret. “God’s ways are higher than our ways, my friends.” He held up a fist and raised his voice. “And God’s love can come unexpectedly. It can rock your life and rattle your heart! Just like the world wasn’t ready to receive God’s love in the form of a child that was hurled from heaven to earth, we’re not always ready to receive God’s love. And we’re not prepared to accept that it comes in a variety of ways. Often when we least expect it, God’s love can show up in the form of something or someone we aren’t happy to see—something or someone we want to push away or even run from. And, let me tell you, God’s love can make us downright uncomfortable at times. Just like that newborn baby wailing in the night made some people in Bethlehem uncomfortable. And yet they needed him—desperately. And we need him. Desperately. Embrace God’s love, my friends. Receive it. And then share it. Let us pray.”

As Pastor Gordon prayed, Betty could think of only one thing. She had to get out of there. It wasn’t that she wanted to escape her pastor or her friends or even the strangers sitting next to her. But what she wanted—what she truly, truly wanted—was to go straight to the animal shelter and get Ralph. Because it seemed entirely possible that God’s love had come to her in the form of an unwanted little dog. And she had missed it. Oh, she’d probably missed lots of other things too. But she could do something about this. Ralph needed her, and she needed him.

When the service ended, she exchanged some hasty Christmas greetings and made her way to the exit, then left as quickly as she could. As she drove across town, she had no idea whether or not the shelter would even be open, but she was determined to find out. To her delight, the shelter was not only open, but Christmas music was playing and there were cookies out on the counter, and several people appeared to be shopping for pets. It was actually a very merry place.

Betty munched a sugar cookie as she waited for someone to help her.

“You’re certainly busy,” she said to the young man wearing a Santa hat who had just stepped behind the counter.

“That’s because we had a spot on the local news this morning,” he said. “We encouraged families to adopt unwanted animals rather than buying them from pet shops, which might support puppy farms where animals are not treated humanely.”

“That’s wonderful,” Betty said.

“Except that we suggested they wait until
after
Christmas. But I guess we can’t complain when our animals are finding good homes.”

“No, of course not.”

“So, what can we do for you? A cat perhaps? I have a nice tabby—”

“No thank you,” she said. “I have something very specific in mind.” She explained about dropping off Ralph recently. “It was a mistake, I’m afraid. And I’d like to have him back, if it’s all right.”

“Could you spot him?” the young man asked.

She smiled. “Of course.”

He took her back to where dogs were barking and jumping in kennels. They walked up and down the aisle, and she studied all the dogs and finally shook her head. “I don’t see him.”

Just then the young woman who had helped her before walked by. Betty touched her arm and explained who she was and what she was looking for.

“Oh, that little brown terrier mix.” The girl nodded. “Yes, he’s been adopted.”

Betty blinked. “Adopted?” Ralph had been adopted? How could this possibly happen?

The girl smiled. “Yes. He’s such a sweet little dog, I’m not surprised someone wanted him. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to help this family with their paperwork.”

“We have lots of other cool dogs,” the young man said.

“Oh, yes . . . I see that you do.” Betty just nodded.

“How about that schnauzer mix over—”

“No thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Perhaps you’re right about waiting until after the holidays . . .” She attempted to smile.

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “It’s better for the animal. So much is going on at Christmas. Pets get sick eating rich food or ornaments, or they get neglected or handled too much by guests—all kinds of holiday things that can be a threat to a new pet. You’re wise to wait.”

She thanked the young man for his help and then walked slowly out to her car. As she drove home, she tried to understand this whole strange chain of events. To start with, a dog she had never wanted and did not need had sneaked into her life. She had made many attempts to get rid of him and finally was successful. Or so she had thought. But as a result of dumping the dog—and wasn’t that what she’d done?—she had hurt and then lost her granddaughter. Of course, she had wanted Avery to go home to her parents. But she hadn’t wanted her to leave like that—not without at least saying good-bye. And what was the reason Betty had wanted Avery to leave? Jack. She had been fearful of Jack. She’d felt Avery would be safer at home.

Betty just shook her head to think of what a foolish woman she’d been.

And then she thought she’d figured things out while listening to Pastor Gordon’s sermon—she knew that what she really wanted, what she needed, was that little dog. But now Ralph was gone. Adopted by someone else.

Love had come scratching at Betty’s door in the form of a little brown dog, and she had completely missed it. She’d had her chance to welcome it, to receive it, and she had slammed the door in its face.

15

Betty woke up on Christmas Eve morning to the jarring sound of the phone ringing. It wasn’t even seven yet, but she reached for the phone and tried to sound somewhat awake. “Hello?”

“Mom, this is Gary.”

“Oh, Gary.” She blinked and sat up. “How are you?”

“Not very well.”

“Oh dear, what’s wrong?”

“Steph was worried about Avery coming on that bus, afraid she wasn’t going to get here in time or miss a connection. So I gave the route and schedule information to a cop friend of mine, and he checked the passenger list just to make sure everything was okay. And guess what?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Avery was not a passenger.”

“Oh?”

“She never even bought a ticket.”

Betty was out of bed now. On her feet and pacing. “How can that be?”

“That’s what we want to know. Where is Avery?”

“Goodness, I have no idea where she is, Gary.”

“When did you last see her?”

Betty replayed the last several days for him, finally telling him about Ralph and how Avery had been hurt when she’d taken him to the shelter. “I was going to tell you this earlier,” she said, “but I didn’t want you to worry.”

“We’re worried now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So who is this neighbor who supposedly put her on the bus?”

“Well, he didn’t actually put her on the bus—”

“Who is he, Mom?”

“He lives in the old Spencer house. His name is Jack, and—”

“Crazy Jack?”

“What?”

“Susan told me you had a nutty neighbor who was tearing up his house and that you planned to move as soon as possible.”

“Susan told you that?”

“Well, I might be exaggerating. We talked before she and Tim left for the Keys. She seemed to think the whole thing was rather humorous. I thought it sounded pretty bizarre. And I think you should sell your house.”

“But I was wrong about Jack.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I talked to him on Saturday. He helped Avery.”

“Helped Avery do
what
?” Gary’s voice was loud now. And sharp.

“He loaned her money and—”

“How do you know that, Mom? Did you
talk
to Avery?”

“Well, no.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not mad at you. I know this isn’t your fault. I’m just very frustrated. And Steph is coming unglued.”