The Dogs of Christmas (17 page)

“Bison tracheas,” Kerri responded simply.

Josh dropped it back into the box. “Yuck.”

“The older dogs love ’em. Hey, Josh?”

He looked at her and her blue eyes were serious. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Right. You told me not to call.”

“I’m really glad to see you, though. I can’t help it.”

She was all the way across the room, and Josh just didn’t see how he could climb to his feet and get to her, jumping over boxes on the way, without the moment passing. “Me, too,” he finally said inadequately.

“I was going to call you, actually,” Kerri informed him.

He liked that. “Really?”

She was regarding him carefully. “Yes, because we have a family for Cody.”

“Oh.”

“There’s a family whose dog went blind at six months, and they lost her about a year ago at age fourteen. They know all about how it is to live with a sightless dog, what you need to do. They’ve had years and years of practice, and they decided they want to adopt a blind dog, to put their skills to good use. Rescue a dog no one else would want, I mean. It’s a wonderful opportunity, Josh. Completely unexpected. They saw Cody on the website, they applied, and I interviewed them yesterday. Josh … can we give Cody a home? There’s a ten-year-old boy, a fenced-in backyard, and a family just waiting to give him love.”

They looked at each other, still absurdly all the way across the room from each other. Her smile was warm and sympathetic and he knew he was going to do whatever she wanted. “Yes,” he assented, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. “Okay.”

A woman named Madelyn showed up to relieve Kerri. Without even realizing he was going to do it, Josh asked if maybe Kerri would like to get something to eat and the two of them drove in separate vehicles to the Evergreen Inn for some Mexican food. They sat in a booth across from each other, the table wide between them. Why did it seem like there was always some barrier in the way?

A Christmas tree adorned a far corner, tight packages in a small pile underneath the blinking lights. Josh wondered if they were empty boxes the owners put out every year. It was a good idea; his own tree always looked forlornly sparse, with just his and Amanda’s gifts under it.

Not Amanda, not anymore,
he reminded himself.

“We have this thing, a program at the shelter,” Kerri told him after they’d ordered. “Basically we suspend adoptions in December until the twenty-third, and then we send every dog to his new forever home with a Christmas collar on. We call it the Dogs of Christmas. It sounds silly, but it really raises some interest in our rescues. We do the Cats of Christmas, too, but we gave up trying to make them wear Christmas collars.”

“I thought you said you hated it when people bought dogs as gifts.”

“Yes, I do, personally, but the director likes the program.”

“Whatever Lola wants,” Josh speculated.

“Exactly.”

“Okay, Dogs of Christmas,” Josh nodded noncommittally.

“What I was thinking was, we should do that with your dogs. That gives you until the twenty-third, Josh. More than two weeks.” Kerri reached out and took his hand. “Will that work for you?”

Josh studied the checkerboard tablecloth. Kerri withdrew her touch when the food arrived, and the cool, lonely feeling in his hand felt portentous—a lot, he knew, was riding on his answer. It wasn’t fair, but the choice he was making was pretty clear.

“Fine,” he agreed. He reached for the hot sauce, glancing up at her as he did so. She was smiling, and it made his heart soar.

When they walked to the parking lot after dinner, it was starting to snow. The flakes danced in the multicolored lights in the shop windows, swirling in the light breeze and starting to build on the rooftops. From somewhere unseen speakers quietly played “Frosty the Snowman.” For a moment Josh was transported back in time and was a child, thrilled at the decorations, walking this same sidewalk, hearing the same music from probably the same hidden speakers. And then he was back, strolling next to this woman, equally as captivated now as he had been then.

“A white Christmas!” Kerri exclaimed, holding her tongue out to catch a snowflake.

“Maybe. Or maybe tomorrow it’s eighty degrees,” Josh speculated.

“Always looking on the bright side,” Kerri responded playfully. She pushed against him and, in the process, slipped her arm through his.

They stopped at her car. “Could I maybe come out for Cody Wednesday? I’ll call the family tomorrow.”

“You said the twenty-third,” Josh objected.

“Right, I did say that, but for Cody I don’t think it makes any sense to wait, do you? The sooner he gets used to his new home, the better.”

“I guess. Sure. Yes.” Josh had made his decision, but hadn’t been prepared for the reality of Wednesday. The day before Christmas Eve still felt far enough away to him as to be nearly forever, though it was only fifteen days.

“You’re doing the right thing, Josh, and it’s the hard thing and I’m proud of you.” Kerri reached up and touched his face, and he kissed her, and this, too, was a complete surprise. The way she clutched him in the parking lot, the snow in her hair turning to water under his hand, warmed him through his whole body. When their lips broke apart, they were both smiling, though her teeth were chattering a little.

“You’re cold,” he declared.

“Freezing,” she admitted.

“Okay, go, get warm.”

“Right.” She kissed him again, a quick one, then jumped into her car. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said.

“Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

“When you call me,” she said brightly. She shut her car door and drove off.

Josh was vibrating with a new, unnamed energy that made him want to do something impulsive, like go into a bar and shout that he was buying a round of drinks for the house. “Merry Christmas!” he boisterously greeted people walking in downtown Evergreen. He passed a flower shop and wondered if now would be a good time for roses, then decided to hit a gift shop instead, feeling as generous as Scrooge buying a goose for the Cratchit family. Would Kerri like a basket filled with teas and cookies? A music box shaped like an old phonograph player? A mouse that played a few stanzas of “O Christmas Tree” when you squeezed his nose?

He decided maybe just a card. The one he picked had a poem on the front that he’d first read in high school. Josh remembered that all the girls liked it because they said it was about someone looking for love and finally finding it.

The Penny

I tossed a penny into the well

And for quite some the copper fell

Without a sound returned to ear

And just when I’d begun to fear

Such small impact I’d never hear

A tiny call from down below

Announced arrival of my throw.

Looking for love? As far as Josh could tell the poem was about somebody dropping a penny into a well. Kerri was a woman, though, and they saw the hidden meaning in stuff like this. He bought the card and took it home and put Kerri’s name on the envelope. It was the kind of card with all the words on the front—inside the card, fresh, cream-colored paper waited blankly for him to write something profound.

Two hours later and the inside of the card was still blank.

The next morning the snow was a four-inch layer on the ground, some of the driest, fluffiest powder Josh had ever seen. He opened the back door for the puppies and they stopped as dead as if they’d just spotted Waldo the cat, the white blanket an intimidating mystery.

For Lucy, though, it was a joyous transformation. She leaped over the puppies like a steeplechase horse, landing in an explosion of white and going down on one shoulder to drive herself like a snowplow across the yard. Her puppies, following the
when in doubt stick with Mom
dictum, took a few tentative steps. They were shocked and intimidated as their paws sank into the snow, but the magnetic properties of Lucy’s maternal pull overcame their apprehension. Testing it like people checking the temperature of bath water, they cautiously went out into the white stuff, sniffing suspiciously. Lucy was spinning and leaping:
Come on, this is what dogs do in these situations!
They scampered after her, more and more emboldened, each discovering the delights of snow on his and her own, rolling and tumbling in ecstasy. Cody romped, too, Rufus close, not to guide him, but just to be nearby while Cody went as crazy as everyone else.

Josh brushed the snow off his steps with a broom and sat with a cup of coffee, more happy than he’d been in a long time. From time to time one of the dogs would break away and run over to him as if to say,
Isn’t this the best stuff ever?
Lucy climbed into the dog pile to be with them and they all went after her. Her teats were dry and withdrawn, now, so it was just play they were interested in, biting at their mommy as if Lucy were a chew toy. She expertly flipped them on their backs in the snow, and then they’d be on their feet, coming right back at their mommy dog, their little tails wagging.

As if a signal had been passed between them, they all calmed down at about the same time, panting and sprawling in the snow, chewing at it, raising their heads drowsily when Josh came for them. As he moved Lola and Sophie into the house, their brothers roused themselves and followed of their own volition, clambering awkwardly up the stairs and bounding in pursuit of Josh down the hall, feet leaving tiny puddles of melt water that glittered on the floor like jewels.

They settled without protest into their box. Lucy took up her favorite position in the living room.

“They went berserk,” Josh told Kerri on the phone. “You should have seen it.”

As he said it, he caught himself wondering, yeah,
why
weren’t
you here to see it?

How could he entice Kerri to be here more often, to stay with him longer when she did come? A review of their relationship thus far consisted mostly of the two of them saying good-bye to each other.

Kerri said she’d be out the next morning. “I’ll see you then!” she said gaily before they hung up.

Why aren’t I seeing you tonight?
Josh wondered. Why didn’t he think to ask her to dinner?

Because, he knew, he’d put a lot of thought into inviting her over for dinner the last time and she’d immediately bolted across the state line. Wyoming. What kind of signal did it send that her excuse was Wyoming?

He pulled out the card he’d bought. Still blank. Why hadn’t he bought one that had words on the inside, too?
Dear Kerri,
he could write.
Please don’t go to Wyoming again.
Or, better:
Don’t go to Wyoming without me.

He put the card away, knowing nothing would occur to him. Maybe he’d use it on Mother’s Day or something.

A low fog hung in the trees the next morning, as if clouds, caught sleeping on the ground, had gotten trapped in the branches as they tried to rise back up to the sky. Josh had been awake for hours and had showered and shaved and was wearing a pair of jeans to be casual but they were clean and new and looked, he hoped, nice. His long-sleeved shirt had a software company logo because he wanted her to remember he had a good job. Well, usually, anyway. Kerri’s car pulled into his driveway and Lucy gave a lazy “wuff,” just one, as if to say,
I could scare her off if I wanted to
.

Josh made himself wait until she knocked on the door. The puppies had taken over the living room and were wrestling each other over one of the throw pillows.

“Okay, Cody, this is it,” Josh proclaimed. Cody didn’t show any signs of hearing or caring about his name.

“Hi! It’s good to see you! You here for Cody?” Josh asked.

“Yes,” Kerri replied.

He was going to kiss her, had planned to all morning, but something in her manner, something diffident, gave him pause.

“Your friend called. The one with the little girl. For Lola. We took their application yesterday,” Kerri said. She wasn’t looking at Josh. “Hey, puppies,” Kerri greeted softly, sliding to her knees on the living-room floor. The puppies forgot about the pillow wars and piled into her.

“What’s wrong?” Josh asked.

Kerri looked at him. Her eyes were fearful, almost—hurt and fearful. She slowly stood, bringing a folded piece of paper out of her pocket.

“This was on our bulletin board, but there was stuff stuck over it and I didn’t see it until Madelyn came in this morning and organized it. Oh, Josh,” Kerri said.

She handed him the piece of paper. There was a picture of Lucy on it, along with a few words in large font:

Dog Lost/Stolen

“Lucy”

Pregnant or nursing puppies.

Call Serena.

I love my dog.

Reward.

SEVENTEEN

Josh held the homemade poster as he sank wearily down in a chair, his legs suddenly weak. Lucy, sensing something, came over to him, her nails clicking on the floor, and laid her head in his lap, looking up into his eyes. He absently stroked between her ears, staring at the poster as if it contained words he couldn’t comprehend.

“I’m so sorry, Josh,” Kerri whispered. She stood in front of him, looking down, her eyes moist. “I know this is … a shock. How hard this is.”

Lost.
Stolen.
Josh tried to picture the sort of people who would treat Lucy as some sort of weapon in the war between them. Serena had “dumped” Lucy, Ryan had claimed. Now Lucy was “stolen.”

Who knew what had really happened? Who knew the truth, besides Lucy?

“It says September,” Josh noted dully.

“Sorry?”

“See? Your fax machine put a date on it. September twenty-second. This is December thirteenth.
December
.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Kerri replied slowly.

“That’s almost three months.”

“Right, but Josh, does that matter? Lucy has a person she belongs to.”

“And so nothing that has happened here counts for anything,” Josh responded bitterly. He stood up, Lucy tracking him with anxious eyes. To have something to do he flung another piece of wood on the fire, which snapped and spat sparks back at him.