One Bright Christmas
Page 7
The bright lights and applause seemed to mock her after that. But Lucy persisted, unwilling to admit that Craig’s betrayal had tainted acting for her. She remained dogged in her ambition to carry out their plans all on her own. She refused to admit, even to herself, that however much she enjoyed performing, maybe it wasn’t what she truly wanted to do with her life, and that maybe part of her passion for it had been tied up in her feelings for Craig.
“I did enjoy it. And I had some talent. But it was more of a hobby,” she said finally. “I never had the drive, or the talent, it takes to be really successful at it. To be in the movies, say. Or star on Broadway.”
“Don’t listen to her. You know how modest your mom is,” Charlie interrupted. “The problem was, once we met, your mom knew she could never leave me behind. Even for a life of fame and fortune.”
“Right, Dad. I’m sure that’s exactly what happened,” C.J. teased.
Charlie shrugged. “Isn’t that so, Lucy? You tell that wise apple of ours.”
“Something like that,” she replied with a smile.
Charlie had asked her out a dozen times before she agreed. She liked him well enough. It wasn’t that. She felt a bit numb inside and didn’t want to date anyone. But Charlie was persistent and charming, in his way. He made her laugh and made her feel so special, as if she had stepped down from a cloud. After Craig, her life seemed so bleak, as if she had been living in a vividly colored movie that suddenly turned to grainy black and white.
Somehow, Charlie brought the color back, and the sunshine. She began to accept that sometimes a bad turn in life could lead to something even better. Something she hadn’t ever expected or imagined. Like falling in love with Charlie Bates.
“Seriously, kids,” she added, “who wouldn’t choose the Clam Box over Hollywood?” They all found the question very amusing. Charlie laughed loudest.
“That’s exactly my point,” he insisted.
Her younger son, Jamie, caught her gaze. “I heard that the movie crew is looking for extras, Mom. Maybe you should try out.”
Lucy cringed at the thought. “I don’t think so, dear. That ship has sailed, as they say.”
“Are you sure, Mom?” Zoey asked. “It might be fun. And I bet you were a good actor.”
Lucy smiled at the compliment. “I don’t think I could do it now. Even if I wanted to. Guess I’m in a different place. And I have to say that every step in your life, even the disappointments and mistakes, gets you closer to where you’re meant to be.” Lucy looked around at the faces of her children, whom she loved so much and still wanted to help and guide, even though they were mostly beyond that now. “It was hard to put aside that notion. But I see now that the choice should have been very clear. I was lucky. I took the right path, and I’d never trade the way my life turned out. Not even for fame and fortune.”
Zoey reached over and squeezed her hand. “I guess we’re all glad you decided not to be a movie star, too.”
C.J. stared at his sister across the table. “Speak for yourself. Now I’ll never get a Maserati.”
C.J. was not nearly as materialistic as he sometimes sounded. Lucy hoped not, anyway—though his profession tended to stress appearances over content. She did worry about that.
“I can give you a bowl of spaghetti, buddy,” her husband offered. “Would that help?”
Everyone laughed at the offer, and Lucy had to smile at C.J.’s expression. Some things never changed. That was something else to be thankful for today.
* * *
* * *
Lillian had enjoyed her family’s Thanksgiving visit but was quite tired by the end of it, and a bit short-tempered, too. She could hardly wait for them to finish with their helpfulness. Finally, she shooed them out of the kitchen.
“Thank you all very much. Estrella will take care of the rest. You can all go home now. Please?”
There were hasty but heartfelt farewells. Emily and Jessica dropped by frequently during the week. There was no lack of seeing them. Lillian saw Jane often, too, though she had the busiest schedule of anyone right now. Sara and Luke would stay with Emily a night or two, then return to Boston. Their visits were rare. Sara had always been a big hugger—an expression of affection Ezra enjoyed but Lillian merely tolerated.
“You’re coming home for Christmas, aren’t you?” Lillian asked mid-embrace. “I’ll see you then, dear. Let’s not stand in the draft. Drive safely.”
She finally shut the front door and turned the lock, leaning heavily on her cane. The sudden silence in the large foyer was nearly deafening. “Good grief, I thought they’d never go.”
Ezra stood beside her and laughed. “You always say that, no matter if they stay five hours or five minutes. I had a fine time. I wish we had more family dinners. In the old days, it was every Sunday, without fail. The whole family got together for an early dinner after church. Usually a nice roast and potatoes. Remember?”
“I do. The tradition is not likely to return. I fear it’s gone the way of the horse-drawn carriage.”
Ezra headed to the kitchen at the back of the house, and Lillian followed with her hobbling step. “Every week was a bit much. I don’t mind the holidays, but I do sometimes wish they weren’t all squashed together. Christmas is hot on the heels of Thanksgiving, and then boom . . . it’s over in the blink of an eye, like a big, festive explosion. And after that there’s a long, dreary winter to face.”
“Very true, dear. Too bad you were not around when Thanksgiving was invented. You could have spread the merrymaking out more evenly. It’s a much more sensible approach.”
Ezra’s wit was so dry, sometimes even she was not sure when he was teasing her.
“Go ahead, mock me. I’m low-hanging fruit. L-O-L, as the kids say.” She shot him a look, and he had the grace to color a bit with embarrassment.
“You know I love you, Lily. Love Only Lily—that’s my L-O-L,” he quipped.
Lillian had no answer for that. Though he did remind her daily how lucky she was that Dr. Ezra Elliot had fallen for her decades ago, at the same time she had met and fallen for Oliver. But Ezra had never given up on her and had finally seized his chance to win her heart. And here they were. Happily married in the third act, for nearly eleven years now. Who would have ever predicted that? L-O-L, indeed.
They’d arrived in the kitchen. Ezra was already perusing the refrigerator, peeking under various wrappings.
“You’re not having more food, are you?” Her comment was half-command and half-question.
He didn’t seem to hear her, then he turned around, holding a plastic container. “Maybe a bite or two. They say turkey helps you sleep.”
“Indigestion certainly doesn’t,” she replied.
“Can I make you a cup of tea, dear? Ginger will settle your stomach.”
“I don’t have indigestion, Ezra. I meant that you’ll have it if you get into those leftovers.” He replied with his usual good-natured grin. She knew that meant he would do as he pleased, thank you very much for the advice. Lillian sighed. “I will pass on the ginger tea. I’m heading upstairs.”
Ezra popped open the container of turkey. “Leave the light on for me. I won’t be long.”
Lillian was making her way out of the kitchen when a cacophony right outside the back door startled her to stillness.
She leaned on her cane and turned her head. “What in the world was that? Did that dimwit Luke pile the garbage so high it’s tipped over? What an unholy mess that will be.”
Ezra had hurried over to the door and flipped on the outside light. He peered through the small windowpanes. “Maybe an animal got into the trash.”
He grabbed his parka and flat tweed cap from the hook by the door, then found a flashlight on the shelf near the laundry room. “Let me see what’s going on. I suppose the raccoons are entitled to a Thanksgiving dinner if they can find one.”
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Only Ezra would say that. Lillian shook her head. “If you do find raccoons, please don’t invite any in for dessert.”
Ezra laughed quietly as he sauntered out the door. Lillian stayed inside but watched through the glass. It frosted with her breath, and she impatiently cleared the spot with the edge of her sweater sleeve.
It was cold outside, the night sky clear and dark. A thin silver sliver of moon hovered over bare trees like a single Christmas tree ornament hung from a bit of string. No snow yet, but it was almost December. There soon would be. It was winter in New England; snow was a certainty.
She watched Ezra plod out to the trash pails, the beam from the flashlight bobbing with each step. He came to a sudden stop and pointed the light at something down low.
Lately it seemed they needed so many pails. Different types of garbage couldn’t touch anymore. It was like separating laundry—there were pails for paper, tinfoil, food trash, bottles, and who knows what else. Lillian had a dickens of a time remembering what went where each time she needed to throw something out. Luckily, Estrella kept it all in order for them.
Ezra was peeking behind a big blue pail, making cooing sounds. She opened the door a crack to hear him clearly. Yes . . . he was calling to something, in a soft, enticing tone.
Was the man stark raving mad? Joking about raccoons was one thing. Coaxing them close was positively crazy.
“Ezra? What are you doing out there? Who—I mean, what—are you talking to? Leave those scavengers alone. You’ll get rabies, and then where will we be?”
He turned quickly and scowled at her. “Pipe down, Lily. It’s just a little dog. He must be lost, poor fellow. We don’t want to scare him away.”
Why not? she nearly asked. That’s what she’d do.
“Let him go, Ezra,” she said. “He doesn’t need our assistance. You know how people are. Too lazy to walk their pets. They let them wander all over the neighborhood. He’s probably on his way home right now.”
Ezra had his back turned toward her. If he’d heard a word she’d said, he didn’t show it. She took a tentative step out, cane first, her free hand grasping the doorknob. Thank goodness there was no frost on the steps. She hadn’t thought of that. She pulled the edges of her cardigan up around her throat. She’d catch her death, and then he would be sorry he’d acted so foolishly.
“Ezra? Come back inside this minute. Leave that animal alone. Send him on his way. I need to get to bed, and you should, too.”
Outside without a coat, she felt chilled to the bone. Whatever was she thinking? That man would drive her crazy before it was through, that was a certainty.
When he finally turned, her heart sank. His face was lit up, as if he’d just won a prize of some kind, and his arms were full. Full of white fur, four dangling paws, and a droopy dog head with floppy ears and a nose as black as a piece of coal.
“Stand aside, stand aside,” Ezra instructed her. “He jumped right into my arms. He needs our help, Lily. I can’t just leave him out there.”
Lillian was ready to argue with that assertion, but Ezra was moving like a steam engine. She had no choice but to pull open the door and stand aside as he carried the questionable package in. She followed and shut the door, shivering. “Now look what you’ve done. I’ve probably caught something.”
Ezra had set the dog down on the floor of the mudroom but remained crouched by its side. He squinted up. “Who told you to go out without your coat? That wasn’t very wise.”
“I had to see what you were up to. Not that it helped.” She took a breath and smoothed down her sweater. “I hope you don’t intend to keep that filthy animal in this house. I don’t think that’s very wise,” she countered.
Ezra’s gaze was fixed on the dog. He gently stroked its head. It wasn’t a tiny dog; it was medium sized, with mostly shaggy white fur. The wiry kind, not soft and silky like the fur of an Irish setter or a golden retriever. It had brown coloring on its face, like a mask, that extended over its ears. There were additional brown patches on its back and the tip of its tail, which was wagging wildly. It turned away from Ezra and stared up at her with dark brown eyes, panting. Then it leaned forward and licked her leg.
Lillian jumped back, as much as she was able, letting out a little shriek. She was instantly embarrassed and annoyed. “For goodness’ sake. Hold it back. It attacked me!”
Ezra laughed. “He likes you, Lily. He just gave you a lick. That’s what dogs do when they like a person.”
She didn’t believe that. “More like tasting me for future reference.”
Ezra stood up and pressed his hands to the small of his back. She knew he would soon be complaining after squatting down that long.
“Now that you mention it, I’m sure he’s hungry. I’ll give him a little turkey and some water.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I don’t even know why you took him inside. Out he goes. This instant. He looks well cared for and well fed.” That was not entirely true. Still, she held her ground. “He has an owner somewhere. Someone who’s probably looking for him right now.”
“That might be,” Ezra conceded. “But I checked his collar. There are no tags. Maybe there was some ID but it fell off? I think you’re right, though, Lily. His owners could be looking for him right now. They might be worried sick that the little fellow is lost. I think we should keep him safe, just for tonight. We can call Jessica tomorrow. She’ll know how to figure out where he belongs.”
Lillian knew she had painted herself into this corner. She felt stumped and exhausted, too tired to argue any more about the dirty little beast.
“Suit yourself. But that beast doesn’t place a paw any farther than that mudroom. We’ll die of some dreadful disease. As it is, I need to clean this drool off my leg with alcohol.”
Ezra snickered and stared at the floor. The dog sat at his feet, gazing around alertly, first at Ezra, and then at her. The thing seemed to be smiling at her, just the tip of its pink tongue showing, along with a few bright white teeth. It was . . . uncanny.
“Promise me, Ezra,” she demanded.
He nodded and offered a serious expression. “On my life, Lily. Not a paw. I’ll make him a little bed with some old towels and bring his food and water out here. And shut the door.”
“Excellent plan. Why don’t you leave a phone so he can call room service if he desires any other comforts during the night?” Without waiting for his answer, she shook her head in frustration and headed for their bedroom.
“Tomorrow morning, bright and early, that dog is gone. No two ways about it,” she called back over her shoulder.
“Absolutely. Bright and early,” he echoed.
Lillian hoped to heaven he wasn’t just humoring her, as he sometimes did. She had seen that look on her husband’s face before. A born nurturer, a sucker for any creature in need—sick, wounded, financially troubled, or otherwise. Two-legged or four. Of course, that’s why he had been such a wonderful doctor and was still beloved and revered by his former patients. Ezra’s nurturing talents aside, she believed what she’d told him. The dog had owners and must be returned to wherever it was he belonged. End of story.
She settled herself on the stair seat, set her cane across her lap, and pressed the remote. The mechanical chair glided up the long staircase, carrying her to the second floor with a gentle whirring sound.
With some effort, she heaved herself up again and headed to their room.
Jessica will know what to do. She’ll agree with me. I’ll ring her first thing and make her take that dog away. Before Ezra gets any more crazy ideas in that soft head of his.
CHAPTER FOUR
Where have you been?” Lillian looked up from the newspaper as Ezra entered the house through the side door. She wasn’t even dressed yet, but he had already been outside. Bundled up for the cold, he led the little dog in on a leash fashioned from a leather belt.
“A tired husband as well,” Lillian muttered. “I’ve spoken to Jessica. She’ll be here soon to take that thing away. She totally agrees he must be returned to his rightful owner. The sooner the better. As we agreed, as well,” she reminded him.
That wasn’t exactly what Jessica had told her. She’d actually said she was very busy this morning with her silly animal rescue tasks and would be by later in the day—if she was able to come at all. Lillian had insisted that she make time, but Jessica, in her sweet, even-tempered way, could be absolutely intractable when she wanted to be. Lillian didn’t think it wise to tell Ezra the dog’s departure might be delayed. It would only encourage him to get more attached.
Ezra had poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across from her at the table. “All well and true. What if Jessica can’t locate the dog’s owner? Then what?”
Lillian had finished the news section of the paper and pushed it across the table to him, as was their habit. Ezra, who was always eager to check the headlines, didn’t seem to notice.
“What will happen to Teddy then?” Ezra asked.
“Teddy? You’ve named it? Already?” Lillian peered at him over the edge of her glasses.
Ezra shrugged and sipped his coffee. “I couldn’t keep calling him ‘Boy.’ Certainly not ‘it,’ like you do.” He gave her a sharp look. “I think Teddy suits him. Or maybe just T.R.? He reminds me of Theodore Roosevelt. Small but strong, spunky, and spirited. But a real gentleman in his manner.”
Lillian let loose a dramatic sigh and gazed at the ceiling. “Saints preserve me. I’m living with a madman.” She pinned her husband with a steely-eyed gaze. “You realize that you’re totally anthropomorphizing this animal, don’t you? It’s a mangy stray dog. A mutt, most likely—not even a pedigree. T.R., indeed.”