by Cheryl Wyatt
“Huh?”
“I don’t plan to leave you alone on Christmas, Bri.”
That made her feel demoralized. “I’m fine.” She didn’t want to be someone’s obligation. She wanted to be someone’s choice. “Thanks for the lovely time with your family, Ian. Goodbye.”
He stuffed hands in his pockets. “Suit yourself.” He backed away, then shrugged and turned to go.
She shut the door and leaned against it. Stared at her golden walls but felt anything but happy. Gloomy was more like it. Her bird clock screeched. She jumped. Thought about tossing her shoe at it. Decided not to, knowing why she’d regret it.
Bri walked through the dim stillness of the room to the mantel and soaked in the smiling faces of nostalgia framed in wood and memories. “Oh, baby brother, how I miss you. Please stay safe,” Bri whispered while brushing fingers over images of Caleb. Then her mother. “I miss you so much.”
Bri suddenly felt so overwhelmed by a dark loneliness that she could barely breathe. What if something happened to Caleb? Then she’d certainly be all alone.
Except there was Ian. No wonder Caleb had asked him to watch over her. He knew how much more dangerous this deployment was going to be. It dawned on her that, for all she knew, Caleb’s asking Ian to watch over her might’ve extend to “if I don’t make it home....”
The thought dropped her to her knees. “Lord, please bring him home safely. And, as much as I hate to admit, he was right to have someone look out for me. Thank You for Ian. And for giving me a new family in the friendship of Kate, Lauren, Mitch and our church home.” Even on Ian’s grumpiest days, she’d take his presence over this terrible feeling of utter aloneness. She pulled a puzzle box down and sank to her rug with a farm scene.
A knock drew Bri off the rug and to the door.
Ian had returned...with Tia...and an armful of gifts.
Bri let them in, smiling at Tia, yet avoiding Ian’s eyes. Guilt assailed her over her inability to admit she wanted—needed—not to be by herself today, and the cowardice that prevented her from looking him in the eyes and saying thank-you. Seems she’d let Eric’s constant stream of harsh put-downs erode her confidence.
Tia stepped around Bri’s puzzle in progress. She pushed a crookedly wrapped, heavily taped gift with tendrils of disheveled ribbon toward Bri and grinned. “I did that myself!”
“Wow. It looks like the job of a professional. Good job!” Bri pretended not to notice unwrapped corners poking through.
“Come have a seat and I’ll unwrap it.” Bri ruffled Tia’s hair. It smelled of strawberries, a scent that more and more was bringing out Bri’s maternal instincts. In short, she was getting attached. She realized she wanted to keep them here. Truth was, she didn’t want to be alone. She took her time putting on Christmas music, then served them hot cocoa.
Tia ignored the cocoa and pointed at the present. “You hafta open it!” Her face beamed excitedly as Bri sat.
Ian seated himself in the chair catty-corner to Bri’s love seat, his knee almost touching hers. Because Tia stood between Bri’s knees, there was nothing Bri could do about the contact. She flicked a gaze at Ian. He either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. She eyed the gifts he clutched in his lap but didn’t ask. Bri began the arduous task of peeling layers of tape.
“Here, let me help you.” Tia scratched holes in the paper.
Bri lifted up a miniature squirrel like the one she’d made at the stuffed toy store. Identical, in fact, except the small one wore a tiny purple tutu. “That’s me!” Tia pushed the squirrel close to Bri, then indicated Bri’s squirrel, poking out of her bag. “And that’s you!” Tia set the bigger squirrel on Bri’s lap, then cuddled the smaller squirrel in its paws.
Tears pricked her eyes. Then horror as Tia snatched a third animal from her coat and squished it beside the other two. “And that’s my dad.”
Ian’s face paled. Bri coughed down her sip of cocoa. Ian didn’t look as though he knew what to say at the moment. Bri knew the feeling. Ian bent forward, plucked the stuffed frog up. “Tia, where did you get this?”
“I sneaked it out of your suitcase, of course.”
She reached for it. Ian lifted it up. Clearly, no way did he want her putting them together as a family.
Ian rose, presumably to take his empty cocoa cup into the kitchen. Bri held Tia’s shoulders. “T, you realize I’m just the babysitter, right?”
Tia’s face fell. Her chin fell against her chest, her gaze to the floor. Then she lifted soulful eyes so filled with hurt it gripped Bri’s heart. “I wanted my mom for Christmas.”
What should Bri say? She’d picked up that Ava had refused to come see Tia. But what had Ian told her? Bri needed to be careful. She hugged Tia close. “I’m so sorry. I know that had to be disappointing.”
Tia snaked her arms around Bri’s waist and held. Bri felt tears soak her shoulder. Ian came back in, paused in the doorway, eyes acutely watching. Bri tried to send a reassuring smile, but his expression remained stone faced. He should know Bri wouldn’t say anything derogatory about Ava.
A pounding at the door, then someone running, then a whimper. What on earth? Bri practically vaulted over Tia to get to the door, but Ian beat her to it. He swung it open and scowled. At Bri.
“What? What is it?” Bri leaned out the doorway, past Ian’s visible seething. His jaw clenched and his eyes were fierce with anger. Bri looked down. Inside a wicker basket with a big red bow sat a yellow Lab puppy who hadn’t grown into his feet yet.
Bri dropped to her knees. “Oh!” She eyed Ian. “Did you?”
Puzzlement flickered across his face. He shook his head. “But something tells me you did.”
She surged to her feet. “I certainly did not!”
Tia scrambled past Ian in the doorway. He tried to stop her, but she saw the dog, who instantly wagged his tail and tried to climb from the basket, but because he was so small, tottered back. “Oh! A puppy!” Tia grabbed Bri in a hug, but Bri held herself back. “Tia, it’s not from me.” Tia whirled and slammed her dad with a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I prayed and it came true! A puppy for Christmas!”
Ian’s mouth fell open. Clamped shut. His arms came around to pat Tia. The puppy whimpered. “He’s cold,” Bri pointed out. She ignored Ian’s caustic look as she lifted the basket and carried it inside. If he didn’t want the dog, she’d keep it. Tia could play with it while she was here. Bri brought in what looked to be a month’s supply of puppy food in a gift bag near his basket.
Ian shut the door with his foot and walked over to the couch, where Tia rushed as Bri set the basket down. The puppy whimpered and whined. Bri picked him up and held him close. Tia reached for him. The pup’s tail wagged and he tried to scramble from Bri’s arms to Tia’s petting fingers.
“Here, sit back.” Bri helped Tia situate with two elbows on throw pillows, then settled the puppy in her arms, feeling the heat of Ian’s anger boring into her back. Tia snuggled the pup, who was too excited to sit. He tottered up on wobbly legs, put his paws to Tia’s chest and licked her chin, eliciting giggles.
“I love him. I love him so much.” She squeezed the dog. Maybe a little too tight, because the dog looked at Bri with eyes a little wider than before. “Here, not so hard. Be very gentle. He’s obviously a baby.”
Ian pulled papers out of a basket. A note. He stood, took it to the kitchen. “Tia, can you be very careful with the dog?”
“His name is Mistletoe,” she informed Bri.
“Oh, is that right?”
“Yes. Because he came on Christmas and gave me kisses.”
Bri nodded. “That sounds like a fine name. I’m going to get him some water. I’ll be right back.”
* * *
“I’m surprised you have the guts to come in here and face me,” Ian bit out the second she walked to her u
tility room, since Tia could see them in the kitchen. His eyes had turned to blue ice.
Bri’s jaw clenched. “I. Did. Not. Get. That. Dog.”
“Then who did?”
“Beats me.” She rummaged for a tiny bowl.
Ian’s hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. “Do not feed that dog.”
“He might be thirsty.”
“You feed or water him, and he’s going to want to stay.”
“You’re not keeping him?”
“Absolutely not. Tia will just have to understand.”
“Will she, Ian? Or is it you who lacks understanding?” Bri shoved past him. His hand on her shoulder blocked her.
“I’m not kidding, Bri. We cannot keep the dog.”
“Then can I?”
Surprise flashed over his face and it was his turn to shove away.
Bri closed her eyes, and thought of something Tia said. She caught Ian’s shirttail and dragged him backward. Annoyance flickered across his face. “Wait, Ian. She said she prayed for the dog.”
Recall flickered in his eyes. “That didn’t give you the right to go behind my back and arrange this.”
Bri felt rage rising. “You have no right to assume I’m lying to you. Someone else got the dog, but maybe God put it in someone’s heart to do so, knowing how Tia is struggling.”
“A dog can’t replace a parent.”
“I know that. I had four stray dogs, plus a stray cat who slapped the living daylights out of them on a weekly basis.”
He calmed down. “You’re telling the truth?”
“Yes. I had no part in getting the dog.”
He still didn’t look as though he believed her, which irritated her. He had no reason not to trust her.
Other than he’d been married to a lying, cheating wife.
Bri calmed herself. “The fact of the matter is, Tia thinks God sent the dog.”
“So, what? You have to cover for God now, because He didn’t hear? Make her think He answered when in fact He didn’t?”
“Maybe He did. She prayed for a dog. A yellow dog. It showed up on Christmas, like she asked. Who else knew about it?”
* * *
Bri had a point. Ian’s insides still shook with anger. He racked his brain to think of who else Tia might’ve told she wanted a yellow dog for Christmas. He couldn’t think of anyone who’d do something so over-the-top. That left Bri.
He dangled papers in his hand. “Obviously someone planned this. The dog is a rescue from the pound. He’s had his shots, and here’s a certificate for two years’ worth of veterinary bills paid, plus a huge gift card for more food at Pawsome Pets.”
“He’s going to be a huge dog.”
He sent her a wry look. “This is far from funny.”
Bri snickered, anyway. “I’m sorry, Ian. I’m...happy for Tia.”
“She can’t keep the dog.”
“Then let me keep Mistletoe here for her. I’ll assume one hundred percent of the care and responsibility. Ian, please.”
“Mistletoe?” He shifted. “She’s already named it.”
Not a question. A resignation. But for what? To keep the dog or get rid of it? He had no clue what to do. Because the truth was, he knew how painful it was to feel let down by God. The last thing he wanted Tia to feel was forgotten and overlooked by the one supreme being who supposedly epitomized love. It dawned on Ian who might’ve gotten the dog. “Kate.”
Bri shook her head. “That blue Mazda wasn’t her car.”
Ian groaned. “Ellie. Well, it’s not like I can yell at a lady undergoing chemo.”
“Oh, dear.” To Bri’s credit, she looked as though she understood his dilemma. But he wasn’t totally convinced of her innocence, either. Dogs just didn’t appear on people’s doorsteps. Especially not from a cancer-ridden woman fighting for her life.
On the other hand, Ellie most likely had cognitive impairment from her cancer treatments, which might explain her not getting his permission. Last thing he wanted to do was hurt Ellie. She had enough on her plate. Of course, so did he. And now there was one more demand on his time. A four-legged one with puppy breath and wrinkly jowls.
He sighed. “Fine. She can keep the dog.”
Bri squealed and hugged him. It threw him for a loop. Electricity arced between them. Bri felt it, too, because she scrambled back, wide eyed. Scowled as if he was the cause of it.
“I’ll need your help taking care of him.”
“I told you I would. I meant it.”
He shook his head. “I cannot believe someone did this.” He waved Bri in. “I have something for you.”
She followed. Tia snuggled with the playful dog, who nipped and yipped at her wiggling fingertips amid squeals and giggles.
Ian handed Bri her gift. “That’s from me.”
She tore into it the way Tia would, causing Ian to want to grin.
She gasped. It was the first season of her favorite TV show. “Wherever did you find this?” She looked as happy with the Blu-ray boxed set as Tia was with the dog. Her face fell. “But I don’t have a high-def-T.V.”
Now Ian did grin. He loved being generous. “Be right back.” Bri watched him with curious eyes as he went to his car and brought back a new high-def television.
She gasped. “Oh, my word. You didn’t!”
“I know you’ll have a hard time accepting this, but it was on sale, and your TV is ancient.”
“Yes, it’s on its last leg. You’ll help me set it up and show me how it works?”
He nodded. “Of course. We can do it today.” He pulled another gift out. “That’s from Caleb.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “How—?”
Ian smiled. “The day he called and I went to the porch so you couldn’t hear. He asked me to pick this up for you. It’s what he wanted you to have.”
She tore open the paper, blinking tears. She pulled a beautiful burgundy frame with an image of herself and Caleb. “I remember this,” she breathed. “The day he left for deployment. He’d turned his phone and snapped a digital image of us.” She smiled through a sheen of tears. Then peeled tissue back to see the rest. A fancy smart phone greeted her. “Oh, my!”
“He doesn’t want you going without a phone. I told him yours hasn’t worked right since the ladder mishap.” Neither did Ian. “I’ll show you how to use it. It’s already activated and ready. The lock code is Caleb’s birthday.”
She smiled. “Clever.” Yips sounded from the couch. They turned to find Tia on the floor on all fours, facing the roly-poly pup, also on all fours attempting play. “He’s so little.”
“He won’t be for long.” Ian gave a wry look. He indicated three identically wrapped gifts on Bri’s wagon-wheel coffee table. “Those are to you, me and Tia, from Kate.”
Bri helped Tia set Mistletoe in the basket, where he cuddled into a ball, clearly worn out and ready for a nap. Tia straightened his paw-print blanket and rested three fingers on top of his forehead, then kissed his cheek and muttered under her breath. Ian looked to Bri and raised his brows.
“Um, I didn’t realize she noticed this, but when she lies down for her nap and is almost asleep, I brush my fingertips along her forehead, say prayers over her and kiss her cheek.”
Tenderness swept through Ian. Bri seemed to be getting attached to Tia quickly, and Tia to Bri. “Shall we?” He passed out Kate’s gifts. “Kate said you and I have to open ours together,” he said to Bri, but nodded to Tia. “Have at it.”
Tia tore into hers and squealed. “A Fairytown DVD!”
“Ready?” Bri poked a finger in her paper.
“Hey, no cheating. She said open them at the same time.” As Ian spoke, though, ripping sounded from his. “Oops.” He grinned.
“Unconvincing.” She rip
ped open her paper, as did he.
They both gasped. Then frowned. Heavily.
Ian stared at the identical Beauty and the Beast DVDs and sighed. Bri awkwardly nibbled her lip, and didn’t know what to say.
He shook his head and set the disk aside. Upside down, so the front image depicting Belle and Beast dancing wouldn’t show.
“Kate’s a mess,” Bri commented, shoving her disk in between her couch cushions, away from Tia, which almost made Ian laugh. The feeling had been so foreign to him for the past two years.
At least he and Bri were on the same page, knowing how utterly ridiculous their friends and family were being by trying to match the two of them together. Ian stood. “Tia, I have another surprise for you.” Ian pulled out the cookie cutters. He’d stuck the mix in Bri’s fridge earlier.
Tia rose and approached cautiously. “What’s that for?”
“Well, I hear you can make Christmas tree ornaments out of cookies. Would you like to?”
Tia smiled shyly, but grabbed Bri’s hand instead of his. “Can we?”
Bri tried to steer Tia toward Ian. “Of course. Your dad bought it so you two could make them together.”
Tia frowned. “I’d rather make them with you.”
Ouch. “I’d like to help, if it’s okay.”
“I guess so.” Tia didn’t look or sound convincing.
Midway into cookie making, Ian’s emergency beeper sounded. He read the message, then eyed Bri, then Tia. “Sweetie, it looks like you’ll get to bake with Miss Bri, after all. Daddy has to go to work.” He faced Bri’s questioning glance. “We have an incoming air trauma. Ten minutes out. Can you watch Tia?”
“Be happy to.”
Ian bent to hug Tia and, while she stiffened, he didn’t miss the disappointment brewing deep in her eyes. “Sorry, Tia.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She scowled.
While her tone attested to that, the pain in her eyes betrayed it.
Chapter Seven
“Miss Bri, what’s that sound?” Tia scrambled from sitting near Mistletoe’s basket to standing.
“It’s a helicopter landing at the trauma center.”
