Christmas Wishes

by Debbie Macomber

  “Well, that’s my life,” he said stiffly. “I don’t want my father here and I dislike the way he’s using you and—”

  “He’s not using me.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but apparently changed his mind. “I’m not going to let my father come between us.”

  “Good, because I’d feel terrible if that happened.” This would be a near-perfect relationship—if it wasn’t for the fact that he was Wynn Jeffries, author of The Free Child. And the fact that he hadn’t forgiven his father, who’d been a selfish and irresponsible parent.

  His eyes softened. “I won’t let it.” He kissed her then, and K.O. slipped easily into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and they exchanged a series of deep and probing kisses that left K.O.’s head reeling.

  “Katherine.” Wynn breathed harshly as he abruptly released her.

  She didn’t want him to stop.

  “You’d better answer your door,” he advised.

  K.O. had been so consumed by their kisses that she hadn’t heard the doorbell. “Oh,” she breathed, shaking her head to clear away the fog of longing. This man did things to her heart—not to mention the rest of her—that even a romance novelist couldn’t describe.

  Wynn’s father stood on the other side of the door, wearing another Hawaiian flowered shirt, khaki pants and flip-flops. From the way he’d dressed, he could be on a tropical isle rather than in Seattle with temperatures hovering just above freezing. K.O. could tell that Max’s choice of clothes irritated Wynn, but to his credit, Wynn didn’t comment.

  Too bad the current Christmas song was “Rudolph,” instead of “Mele Kaliki Maka.”

  K.O. welcomed him and had just poured his eggnog when the doorbell chimed again. Ah, the moment she’d been waiting for. Her friend had arrived. K.O. glided toward the door and swept it open as if anticipating Santa himself.

  “LaVonne,” she said, leaning forward to kiss her friend’s cheek. “How good of you to come.” Her neighbor had brought Tom with her. The oversize feline was draped over her arm like a large furry purse.

  “This is so kind of you,” LaVonne said. She looked startled at seeing Max.

  “Come in, please,” K.O. said, gesturing her inside. She realized how formal she sounded—like a character in an old drawing room comedy. “Allow me to introduce Wynn’s father, Max Jeffries. Max, this is LaVonne Young.”

  Max stood and backed away from LaVonne. “You have a cat on your arm.”

  “This is Tom,” LaVonne said. She glanced down lovingly at the cat as she stepped into the living room. “Would you like to say hello?” She held Tom out, but Max shook his head adamantly.

  By now he’d backed up against the wall. “I don’t like cats.”

  “What?” She sounded shocked. “Cats are magical creatures.”

  “Maybe to you they are,” the other man protested. “I don’t happen to be a cat person.”

  Wynn shared an I-told-you-so look with K.O.

  “May I get you some eggnog?” K.O. asked, hoping to rescue the evening from a less-than-perfect beginning.

  “Please,” LaVonne answered just as “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” began.

  Eager for something to do, K.O. hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the pitcher of eggnog.

  She heard Tom hiss loudly and gulped down some of her own eggnog to relax.

  “Your cat doesn’t like me,” Max said as he carefully approached the sofa.

  “Oh, don’t be silly. Tom’s the friendly one.”

  “You mean you have more than one?”

  “Dad,” Wynn said, “why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable. You’re quite safe. Tom is very well-behaved.”

  “I don’t like cats,” Max reiterated.

  “Tom is gentle and loving,” LaVonne said.

  Max slowly approached the sofa. “Then why is he hissing at me?”

  “He senses your dislike,” LaVonne explained. She gave Max a dazzling smile. “Pet him, and he’ll be your friend for life.”

  “See, Dad?” Wynn walked over to LaVonne, who sat with Tom on her lap. He ran his hand down Tom’s back and the tabby purred with pleasure.

  “He likes you,” Max said.

  “He’ll like you, too, as soon as you pet him.” LaVonne was still smiling happily, stroking the cat’s head.

  Max came a bit closer. “You live in the building?” he asked, making his way, step by careful step, toward LaVonne.

  “Just across the hall,” she answered.

  “Your husband, too?”

  “I’m single. Do you enjoy cards? Because you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

  K.O. delivered the eggnog. This was going even better than she’d hoped. Max was already interested and LaVonne was issuing invitations. She recognized the gleam in the other man’s eyes. A sense of triumph filled her and she cast a glance in Wynn’s direction. Wynn was just reaching into his pocket, withdrawing a real-looking catnip mouse.

  Relaxed now, Max leaned forward to pet Tom.

  At that very moment, chaos broke out. Although LaVonne claimed she’d never known Tom to take a dislike to anyone, the cat clearly detested Max. Before anyone could react, he sprang from her lap and grabbed Max’s bare arm. The cat’s claws dug in, drawing blood. He wasn’t about to let go, either.

  “Get him off,” Max screamed, thrashing his arm to and fro in an effort to free himself from the cat-turned-killer. Wynn was desperately—and futilely—trying to distract Tom by waving the toy mouse. It didn’t help.

  “Tom, Tom!” LaVonne screeched at the top of her lungs.

  Blood spurted onto the carpet.

  In a panic, Max pulled at Tom’s fur. The cat then sank his teeth into Max’s hand and Max yelped in pain.

  “Don’t hurt my cat,” LaVonne shrieked.

  Frozen to the spot, K.O. watched in horror as the scene unfolded. Wynn dropped the mouse, and if not for his quick action, K.O. didn’t know what would have happened. Before she could fully comprehend how he’d done it, Wynn had disentangled Tom from his father’s arm. LaVonne instantly took her beloved cat into her embrace and cradled him against her side.

  At the sight of his own blood, Max looked like he was about to pass out. K.O. hurriedly got him a clean towel, shocked at the amount of blood. The scratches seemed deep. “Call 911,” Max shouted.

  Wynn pulled out his cell phone. “That might not be a bad idea,” he said to K.O. “Cat scratches can get infected.”

  “Contact the authorities, too,” Max added, glaring at LaVonne. He stretched out his good arm and pointed at her. “I want that woman arrested and her animal destroyed.”

  LaVonne cried out with alarm and hovered protectively over Tom. “My poor kitty,” she whispered.

  “You’re worried about the cat?” Max said. “I’m bleeding to death and you’re worried about your cat?”

  Wynn replaced his phone. “The medics are on their way.”

  “Oh…good.” K.O. could already hear sirens in the background. She turned off her CD player. Thinking she should open the lobby door, she left the apartment, and when the aid car arrived, she directed the paramedics. Things had gotten worse in the short time she was gone. Max and LaVonne were shouting at each other as the small living room filled with people. Curious onlookers crowded the hallway outside her door.

  “My cat scratched him and I’m sorry, but he provoked Tom,” LaVonne said stubbornly.

  “I want that woman behind bars.” Max stabbed his finger in LaVonne’s direction.

  “Sir, sir, we need you to settle down,” instructed the paramedic who was attempting to take his blood pressure.

  “While she’s in jail, declaw her cat,” Max threw in.

  Wynn stepped up behind K.O. “Yup,” he whispered. “This is a match made in heaven, all right.”

  Then, just when K.O. was convinced nothing more could go wrong, her phone started to ring.

  Chapter

  12

  “Don’t you think you sho
uld answer that?” the paramedic treating Max’s injuries asked.

  K.O. was too upset to move. The romantic interlude she’d so carefully plotted couldn’t have gone worse. At least Wynn seemed to understand her distress.

  “I’ll get it,” Wynn said, and strode into the kitchen. “O’Connor residence,” he said. At the way his eyes instantly shot to her, K.O. regretted not answering the phone herself.

  “It’s your sister,” he said, holding the phone away from his ear.

  Even above the racket K.O. could hear elda’s high-pitched excitement. Her idol, Dr. Wynn Jeffries, had just spoken to her. The last person K.O. wanted to deal with just then was her younger sister. However, she couldn’t subject Wynn to Zelda’s adoration.

  She took the phone, but even before she had a chance to speak, Zelda was shrieking, “Is it really you, Dr. Jeffries? Really and truly?”

  “Actually, no,” K.O. informed her sister. “It’s me.”

  “But Dr. Jeffries is with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Keep him there!”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t let him leave,” Zelda said, sounding even more excited. “I’m calling on my cell. I’m only a few minutes away.” She took a deep breath. “I need to talk to him. It’s urgent. Zach and I just had the biggest argument ever, and I need to talk to Dr. Jeffries.”

  “Zelda,” K.O. cut in. “Now is not the best time for you to visit.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” her sister cried. “This is an emergency.”

  With that, the phone went dead. Groaning, K.O. replaced the receiver.

  “Is something wrong?” Wynn asked as he stepped around the paramedic who was still looking after Max.

  “It’s Zelda. She wants—no, needs—to talk to you. According to her it’s an emergency.” K.O. felt the need to warn him. “She’s already on her way.”

  “Now? You mean she’s coming now?”

  K.O. nodded. “Apparently so.” Zelda hadn’t mentioned what this argument with Zach was about. Three guesses said it had to do with Christmas and Wynn’s theories. Oh, great. Her sister was arriving at the scene of a disaster.

  “Are you taking him to the h-hospital?” LaVonne sobbed, covering her mouth with both hands.

  “It’s just a precaution,” the medic answered. “A doctor needs to look at those scratches.”

  “Not that dreadful man!” LaVonne cried, pointing at Max. “I’m talking about my cat.”

  “Oh.” The paramedic glanced at his companion. “Unfortunately, in instances such as this, we’re obliged to notify Animal Control.”

  “You’re hauling my Tom to…jail?”

  “Quarantine,” he told her gently.

  For a moment LaVonne seemed about to faint. Wynn put his arm around the older woman’s shoulders and led her to the sofa so she could sit down. “This can’t be happening,” LaVonne wailed. “I can’t believe this is happening to my Tom.”

  “Your cat should be—”

  Wynn cast his father a look meaningful enough to silence the rest of whatever Max had planned to say.

  “I’m going to be scarred for life,” Max shouted. “I just hope you’ve got good insurance, because you’re going to pay for this. And you’re going to pay big.”

  “Don’t you dare threaten me!” LaVonne had recovered enough to shout back.

  With his arm stretched out in front of him, Max Jeffries followed the paramedic out of the condo and past the crowd of tenants who’d gathered in the hallway outside K.O.’s door.

  “That…that terrible man just threatened me,” LaVonne continued. “Tom’s never attacked anyone like this before.”

  “Please, please, let me through.”

  K.O. heard her sister’s voice.

  Meanwhile LaVonne was weeping loudly. “My poor Tom. My poor, poor Tom. What will become of him?”

  “What on earth is going on here?” Zelda demanded as she made her way into the apartment. The second paramedic was gathering up his equipment and getting ready to leave. The blood-soaked towels K.O. had wrapped around Max’s arm were on the floor. The scene was completely chaotic and Zelda’s arrival only added to the mayhem.

  “Your f-father wants to s-sue me,” LaVonne stuttered, pleading with Wynn. “Do something. Promise me you’ll talk to him.”

  Wynn sat next to LaVonne and tried to comfort her. “I’ll do what I can,” he said. “I’m sure that once my father’s settled down he’ll listen to reason.”

  LaVonne’s eyes widened, as though she had trouble believing Wynn. “I don’t mean to insult you, but your father doesn’t seem like a reasonable man to me.”

  “Whose blood is that?” Zelda asked, hands on her hips as she surveyed the room.

  K.O. tried to waylay her sister. “As you can see,” she said, gesturing about her, “this really isn’t a good time to visit.”

  “I don’t care,” Zelda insisted. “I need to talk to Dr. Jeffries.” She thrust his book at him and a pen. “Could you sign this for me?”

  Just then a man wearing a jacket that identified him as an Animal Control officer came in, holding an animal carrier. The name Walt was embroidered on his shirt.

  Wynn quickly signed his name, all the while watching the man from Animal Control.

  LaVonne took one look at Walt and burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands and started to rock back and forth.

  “Where’s the cat?” Walt asked.

  “We’ve got him in the bathroom,” the paramedic said.

  “Please don’t hurt him,” LaVonne wept. “Please, please…”

  Walt raised a reassuring hand. “I handle situations like this every day. Don’t worry, Miss, I’ll be gentle with your pet.”

  “Dr. Jeffries, Dr. Jeffries.” Zelda slipped past K.O. and climbed over LaVonne’s knees in order to reach Wynn. She plunked herself down on the coffee table, facing him. “I really do need to talk to you.”

  “Zelda!” K.O. was shocked by her sister’s audacity.

  “Zach and I never argue,” Zelda said over her shoulder, glaring at K.O. as if that fact alone should explain her actions. “This will only take a few minutes, I promise. Once I talk to Dr. Jeffries, I’ll be able to tell Zach what he said and then he’ll understand.”

  LaVonne wailed as Walt entered the bathroom.

  K.O. heard a hiss and wondered if her shower curtain was now in shreds. She’d never seen a cat react to anyone the way Tom had to Wynn’s father. Even now she couldn’t figure out what had set him off.

  “This’ll only take a minute,” Zelda went on. “You see, my husband and I read your book, and it changed everything. Well, to be perfectly honest, I don’t know if Zach read the whole book.” A frown crossed her face.

  “LaVonne, perhaps I should take you home now,” K.O. suggested, thinking it might be best for her neighbor not to see Tom leave the building caged.

  “I can’t leave,” LaVonne said. “Not until I know what’s happening to Tom.”

  The bathroom door opened and Walt reappeared with Tom safely inside the cat carrier.

  “Tom, oh, Tom,” LaVonne wailed, throwing her arms wide.

  “Dr. Jeffries, Dr. Jeffries,” Zelda pleaded, vying for his attention.

  “Zelda, couldn’t this wait a few minutes?” K.O. asked.

  “Where are you taking Tom?” LaVonne demanded.

  “We’re just going to put him in quarantine,” Walt said in a soothing voice.

  “Tom’s had all his shots. My veterinarian will verify everything you need to know.”

  “Good. Still, we’re legally required to do this. I guarantee he’ll be well looked after.”

  “Thank you,” K.O. said, relieved.

  “Can I speak to Dr. Jeffries now?” Zelda asked impatiently. “You see, I don’t think my husband really did read your book,” she continued, picking up where she’d left off. “If he had, we wouldn’t be having this disagreement.”

  “I’ll see LaVonne home,” K.O. said. She closed o
ne arm around her friend’s waist and steered her out of the condo.

  Wynn looked at Zelda and sent K.O. a beseeching glance.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she promised.

  He nodded and mouthed the word hurry.

  K.O. rolled her eyes. As she escorted LaVonne, the sound of her sister’s voice followed her into the hallway, which was fortunately deserted. It didn’t take long to get LaVonne settled in her own place. Once she had Phillip and Martin with her, she was comforted, since both seemed to recognize her distress and lavished their mistress with affection.

  When she returned to her condo, K.O. found that her sister hadn’t moved. She still sat on the coffee table, so close to Wynn that their knees touched. Judging by the speed with which Zelda spoke, K.O. doubted he’d had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

  “Then the girls started to cry,” Zelda was saying. “They want a Christmas tree and Zach thinks we should get one.”

  “I don’t believe—” Wynn was cut off before he could finish his thought.

  “I know you don’t actually condemn Christmas trees, but I didn’t want to encourage the girls about this Santa thing, and I feel decorating a tree would do that. If we’re going to bury Santa under the sleigh—and I’m in complete agreement with you, Dr. Jeffries—then it makes sense to downplay everything else having to do with Christmas, too. Certainly all the commercial aspects. But how do I handle the girls’ reaction when they hear their friends talking about Santa?”

  Wynn raised a finger, indicating that he’d like to comment. His request, however, was ignored.

  “I feel as you do,” Zelda rushed on breathlessly, bringing one hand to her chest in a gesture of sincerity. “It’s wrong to mislead one’s children with figures of fantasy. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong. Zach agreed with me—but only in principle, as it turns out. Then we got into this big fight over the Christmas tree and you have to understand that my husband and I hardly ever argue, so this is all very serious.”