A Christmas Home: A Novel (4 page)

Todd unfolded the chair with the back facing the audience. He patted the seat and commanded, “Up!”

Christmas jumped into the chair and rested his front paws on the seatback, then looked back at Todd for his next direction.

Todd commanded, “Wave.” The dog lifted his front paw and set it back down on the chair several times in what looked surprisingly like a friendly greeting to the audience. Todd reached in his coat pocket and gave Christmas a training reward. He commanded, “Say ‘hello.’ ” Christmas let out a nice loud bark and got hearty applause for it.

Hayley put her hand on Todd’s shoulder. “Thanks, Todd.
I hope all of you will come out to the shelter and consider adopting a dog or cat for Christmas this year. We’ve got some great ones and they
really
need homes!”

The mayor took the floor again and thanked Hayley, who returned to sit with the McCrays. The mayor sighed and then continued down her list of cuts, layoffs, and eliminations.

As the evening continued, an unsettling feeling began to grip George, Mary Ann, Hayley, and many of the others in the room. Could the community adapt? Would Crossing Trails survive? Or would their town just dry up and blow away like so many other small rural communities? What had seemed unthinkable months and years ago now seemed possible. The prospect made George feel a little sick to his stomach.

Todd walked back down the aisle and stopped in front of his dad’s chair. He bent over and whispered in his ear, “I’m going to the Wellness Center. Laura wants me to help her with something. Will you pick me up when you’re done?”

George nodded. “We’ll see you in an hour or so.” Todd handed the leash to George. Christmas scooted over a few inches, and George sank his fingers into his thick fur. George didn’t know if he was prouder of his old black Lab or his son. His work completed, Christmas yawned and stretched out comfortably on the floor of the meeting hall.

THE CROSSING
Trails Wellness Center integrated many medical services into one building. Separately, the community could not sustain a hospital, a nursing home, a health clinic, and a rehab facility, so they combined these functions all under one roof. Although duly certified, it had by necessity evolved along unorthodox lines, and the hiring of Laura Jordan was a case in point. At most hospitals, trying to hire a young LPN who worked with a service dog would trigger a managerial and legal cyclone that would cause the HR person to dive for cover. At the Crossing Trails Wellness Center, the challenge had been addressed with remarkably little hand-wringing. “Why not give it a try?”

Laura was twenty-four years old, slender, and not very tall, with long blond hair, soft brown eyes, and a welcoming smile. Because she was always quick with a helping hand and a kind word, most of her colleagues and patients did
not immediately notice when she moved slowly on some days. Her rheumatoid arthritis would come and go like an unwelcome houseguest. When it arrived, she walked stiffly and sometimes needed assistance sitting down and getting up again.

Under her photo this month—and not for the first time—was a small sign that read
EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH: LAURA JORDAN AND HER SERVICE DOG, GRACIE
.

More than one patient who checked in at the reception area of the Wellness Center looked at the photo and asked, “Can she be my nurse?”

The receptionist would grin and say, “You’ll have to get in line—she has a long waiting list!”

It turned out that Gracie was capable of doing a lot more than helping Laura up and down from a chair and fetching dropped objects. Gracie had an entire set of skills that had been slowly noted and assessed at the Wellness Center. For medically trained professionals, these skills were sometimes hard to believe or understand. The dog was accomplishing tasks that weren’t in the textbooks. At least, not yet.

Gracie would stand patiently by a bed with a patient’s left hand drooped over the bedrail and resting on the dog’s furry white head while Laura took blood pressure measurements and asked about the person’s pain levels and symptoms. Something remarkable happened. It was right in the medical records and not subject to cynical guffawing. When measured and charted over several shifts, for a
statistically significant number of patients, pain levels, heart rates, and blood pressure consistently dropped in the soothing presence of the dog. Gracie was a healer of a different variety.

The dog intuitively offered something that many sick people needed. Laura would sit in a chair beside the bed and talk with a patient for a few minutes, waiting to see if Gracie felt the invitation to interact. If Gracie did, Laura would pull gently on the service dog harness that kept Gracie close to her. When given permission, Gracie would put her front legs up on the bed so the patient could cradle her furry white face in their hands and feel the dog’s warmth. Within sixty seconds, a healing exchange occurred. Depressed faces lit. Anxiety-ridden minds relaxed. Patients expressed feelings of gratitude. They felt safe and cared for in a unique way that was not typically experienced in a hospital setting.

Todd jogged the two blocks from the town hall to the Wellness Center. He met Laura in the lobby. While she hung up his coat, Todd told her all about his dog’s fine performance that evening at the town hall meeting. Todd patted Gracie affectionately, looked up at Laura, and gave his little
what’s up?
shrug that was always delivered with a friendly twinkle
from his sky-blue eyes. “What do you want me to help you with?”

Laura led Todd to the closed door of a supply closet just past the reception area. Inside were stacks of boxes. For those patients who would be staying at the Wellness Center over the holiday, their family members were invited to leave one average-sized box with the patient’s name and room number written on the outside. They were to enclose in the box those familiar holiday objects that would help make their loved one feel at home for Christmas.

Almost without exception, the one-box rule was broken. Also stuffed in the closet—with apologetic little notes—were assorted extras, including trees, stockings, ornaments, large framed photographs, nativity scenes, stuffed reindeers, flashing lights, angels, and miniature Santa Clauses.

Laura turned on the light and tapped at one of the boxes with her foot. “Todd, would you pull that one out for me?”

“What for?”

“You’ll see.”

She set their course. “This one is for Mrs. Walker. She’s in Room 211.”

Todd picked up the box and started to walk down the corridor for the nursing home wing of the Wellness Center. “What’s wrong with her?” Todd asked Laura.

“She’s very old and has dementia.” There was no reason for Todd to be familiar with Mrs. Walker’s condition, so
Laura explained, “That’s when you forget lots of things and are confused most of the time.”

Todd shrugged. “Maybe I have dementia?”

“Don’t say that, Todd! You don’t have dementia. You’ll see when you meet her. We all forget sometimes. She forgets most of the time. Get the difference?”

“Got it,” Todd said. “I think.”

Laura laughed and watched a red stocking fall out of the box. “Gracie, help us out.” She pointed to the stocking, released the dog, and commanded, “Fetch!” Gracie retrieved the red felt stocking, gently took it in her mouth, and returned to Laura’s side.

Mrs. Walker was ninety-four and had lived in Crossing Trails her whole life. She very much liked her pink flannel robe and warm, fleece-lined slippers—so much so that she rarely wore anything else. Earlier that afternoon, when Laura told her she would be coming by later to help ready her room for Christmas, Mrs. Walker had decided to dress for the occasion. Mrs. Walker had a hard time remembering many of the essential details of her long life history—particularly the names and faces of her assorted grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She figured Laura must have been some part of her family. She also had
a very hard time hearing, which is why she thought that Laura had said that today was Christmas.

Mrs. Walker had put on her best red-and-green Christmas dress, her white pearls that her husband had given her on their sixty-fifth wedding anniversary, and a blue cardigan sweater. She sat in her recliner and waited for the festivities to begin.

Laura knocked and stuck her head inside the door, “Mrs. Walker, may we come in?”

The still-proud woman struggled to stand up and steady herself over her walker. “Yes, please come in!” Once she was up, she moved the walker aside. “Merry Christmas!”

Not wanting to spend the next ten minutes setting things straight for her, Laura just motioned Todd to join her. Todd entered the room and set the box down on the floor. Laura and Gracie moved closer, and Laura raised her voice. “Mrs. Walker, this is my friend Todd. We’re going to set up some Christmas decorations for you.”

Mrs. Walker extended her right hand. Todd took it gently in his own.

“How nice of you to visit me on Christmas.” She glanced down at the box that was resting beside her. “You didn’t need to bring me anything.”

She sat back down and sized up her pair of visitors and the dog that was tagging along. “What a lovely dog!” Her eyes became bright and excited. “Is she yours?”

Laura lightly put an arm around the old woman’s frail
shoulders and tried to explain the purpose of their visit. “Yes, she’s my dog. Now, why don’t you rest and let Todd and me decorate your room for you?”

“That would be very nice.”

Although Mrs. Walker did not remember her, Gracie knew Mrs. Walker quite well. She had visited her almost every day for the last six months. Gracie stood beside her, wagging her tail eagerly.

Mrs. Walker did remember the dog that she and her brothers had owned when they were growing up. It was a black-and-white collie mix. Even though she was not quite certain why this dog was in her room, she could not have received a nicer gift. As she petted the dog’s head, she felt something. It reminded her of when she was a girl and had been playing outside in the cold for a very long time with her brothers and their dog Judy, coming back inside where it was warm and safe, and resting beside the fire that burned in the old potbellied stove so her frozen fingers and toes could thaw out and come back to life. With some effort, Mrs. Walker leaned over and put her arms around Gracie. She pulled the white dog closer so she could bury her face in the dog’s furry neck. Gracie stood there patiently and made small whimpering noises.

“She’s a fine dog. What’s her name?”

Laura looked up from the box of treasures. “Gracie.”

“Ahh,” the old woman replied. “It’s a good name for her.” She closed her eyes and let the deep and warm feelings
the dog generated resonate inside her heart like the vibrations inside a bass kettledrum.

Laura pointed to the box. “Gracie.” When she was sure she had the dog’s attention, she completed the command, “Fetch.” Gracie walked over to the box, gently took one of the cardboard flaps in her mouth, and pulled the box over to Laura. “Good girl, Gracie.” Gracie sat and waited for her next instruction. Laura then pointed to Mrs. Walker and said, “Patient.” Gracie returned to Mrs. Walker’s side and sat close to her so the old woman could run her hands through the dog’s thick white coat.