Christmas Rescue Route

by LoRee Peery

  “Great idea. He’d be in sniff heaven out there.”

  “You talkin’ about me?” Chance appeared at her bedroom door. “Gramps has been trying your number. Said he’s tried to reach the insurance call center but he hasn’t talked to a live person and gets the message they’re backed up with claims for two days.”

  “Great. Brock, did you hear that? What will I do if I can’t drive back to school?”

  “I’ve already solved that problem for you. Izzy, I’m here for you. Why can’t you accept that?”

  9

  I always want to be there for Izzy. How had it happened? He had no idea whatsoever. After such a short time since meeting her, he couldn’t imagine his world without Izzy Kahn at his side. He wanted her in his life today and far into the future.

  He wanted her to feel the same way about him. She claimed his current job important, but to his way of thinking such a position lacked financial security for the future of any potential family. Did he need a career-type job to bring him satisfaction? Maybe it was time to pray about doing what he really wanted to do with the rest of his life.

  It was clear to him that Izzy went after what she wanted with enthusiasm and self-assurance, so he understood how she could feel she didn’t need him. She was used to being strong on her own. Yet I don’t think it’d be easy to see myself as unnecessary to her later on.

  A big, black dog ran out of a driveway and rolled with the aborted effort aimed at taking a bite of Brock’s back tire. Oscar woofed, circled. When Brock put him in the car, he’d climbed over the seat to be closer to the back window.

  That distraction convinced Brock to pay attention to his driving. Something good could be said about driving through the country. The sun shined and melted snow from the highway, but the landscape relaxed a guy. Thirty minutes wasn’t long to get to her folks’. He spent the remainder of those minutes talking to Oscar, who clamored between barking through the windows and lapping Brock on the hand or cheek.

  Chance ran out of the house as soon as the truck slowed to a stop.

  Brock opened the door, and before he could yell for Chance to brace himself, Oscar leaped out to almost trip the boy. Brock closed the passenger door on the dog and boy, both of whom were already shaping their own impressions in the snow.

  A moment later, Izzy greeted him with a wide, beautiful smile that made him feel twenty feet tall. “I think they like each other.”

  “Hi.” He kissed her peachy soft cheek and inhaled. “You smell like chocolate. And it’s cold out there, woman.”

  “I love the fresh air, I feel it on you. But it’s warm inside. I took a long walk earlier, and then I made fudge. Give me your coat. We’ll chat by the fire. I’ve been thinking about you all day and it’s great to see you again.”

  Did she have mutual feelings?

  “Hey, Brock, care if I take Oscar down to the creek?”

  “Go for it.”

  Izzy glanced at Chance. “Put your hat on, young man. I can see your pink ears from here.”

  “Ain’t that cold.”

  “Do as your aunt says or the dog stays here.”

  “Yes, sir.” Chance pulled a bright orange stocking cap from his pocket and high-stepped, trying to run through the snow while he tucked in the tips of his ears.

  Laughing, Brock and Izzy entered the house.

  She had a tray at the ready filled with tall-handled glasses of a clear drink with an orange slice, napkins, a bowl of nuts, and a plate of fudge.

  He picked up the tray and followed her to the couch in front of the crackling, fragrant fire. Setting the tray on the table, he took her in from head to toe.

  She fussed with her hair and dropped her gaze.

  “Can’t help myself. You’re perfect for my sorry eyes. I love your dimple and the way you wrinkle your nose when you laugh.”

  “Ugh. You’ll make me blush. Besides, I have scars.”

  “Where?”

  “Knicks on my legs, bumps on my shins, and a torn meniscus that required surgery on my right knee from playing soccer.”

  “That was a mouthful, and only you would notice those scars.” He bobbled his eyebrows. “Bring on summer so I can look at those legs all I want.”

  “Oh, stop. Have some hot ginger ale.”

  “That’s what this is? Never had it.” He took a sip. And another. “This is really good.”

  “You sip and wrap your tongue around that fudge and tell me something you’ve never told another soul. As in a secret or a yearning.”

  He’d like to tell her he already had a secret yearning with her in his future. She’d trusted him so he could do no less with her. He enjoyed another hot sip that melted the next piece of fudge in his mouth. A third drink turned his mouth dry, due to the intensity of her beautiful blue eyes. Yet her trust gave him courage.

  “I’d venture a guess that most guys have angst with their father that sometimes takes a lifetime to settle. My father has let me know he regrets not insisting I go into the ministry. I’d actually like to show my dad I desire to be a Bible teacher. And I believe I can, if that’s what God wants me to do. But first…” He turned to the window and chuckled at the sight of Oscar with his paws on Chance’s shoulders. He pointed so Izzy could see.

  After a few seconds, she tapped his knee. “But first what?”

  “I’ve had a dream, more like a fantasy, to see my name on the cover of a book.”

  “You want to write books? Amazing. Go for it.”

  “I’m baring my soul here, Izzy. I’ve kept it a secret that I want to write. And can’t help but ask myself when will it be my turn?”

  “Your life reminds me of Romans 2:7. ‘To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life.’ As long as that glory and honor are directed toward the Lord in an unselfish manner, your motivation is where it should be.”

  “Yeah, I want to say it’s for the Lord, but I subconsciously keep busy working out my salvation, as though I need to prove myself to my dad as well as to myself. I suppose it’s an obsession to strive to always to do the best for others. But what’s wrong with doing unto others as I’d want them to do unto me?”

  “You’re making me feel selfish here. Would you like another drink?”

  “Sure. Thanks. Is there a good window view of the creek? I’d like to see if Chance and Oscar are in sight.”

  “Sorry, no. the creek bank is too deep. They’ll be fine. Chance grew up following that trail. He loves it when it’s iced over and he looks for wildlife tracks along the creek.”

  “It sounds to me as if he’s growing up independent and self-sufficient like his aunt.”

  But she still vacillated about his offer to drive her to Colorado; he didn’t like the prospect that she saw his aid as unnecessary. He had mixed-up thoughts in his head. He respected her genuine ability to fend for herself, her strength in the way she held it together when he found her, and her patient endurance afterwards in the hospital.

  Why didn’t she see he wanted her to lean on him? All of a sudden, he realized at some point over the past few days, she’d become the focus of his existence. Frustrated, he stomped to where his coat was hanging. “All that talk about me, I’m heading outside for some fresh air.”

  The winter-white brightness slapped him in the eyes, so he went to his truck for sunglasses. He slammed the door and looked back toward the house.

  Izzy waved from the kitchen window.

  She’d have her degree in hand and no doubt pay off school loans within a few short years. Then she’d make a good living. He was solvent, not in debt, but had no excess in his bank account. He’d have to find something else to do with the rest of his life. Did authors make big bucks?

  He liked to feel needed. What was wrong with that? In a way, wasn’t that reverse pride? Especially when he expected to hear “thank you” for his good deeds?

  Thoughts tumbled. He scooped up wads of snow and formed a solid ball, pressing. Pressing. Could it be Izzy
felt pressed when she lost the freedom to act on her own without depending on someone else?

  Brock shuffled to the edge of the creek, leaving straight tracks like a ski trail behind him. He slung the snowball and heaved a sigh when it splatted against a tree trunk. The physical motion felt just right. There may be something to that kinesthetic connection linking physical action with emotion.

  He looked right and left. Chance’s orange cap showed up bright in the distance. Brock hoped the youth continued to have fun until life expanded into responsibility.

  “Lord, protect Chance from any event that will scar him of perceptions that may be misinterpreted. Expand his moments of insight and enable him to grow into a man who puts Your desires for him before anything in his life. I ask that You protect him from dark secrets.”

  Like Brock’s.

  He’d told Izzy of his secret desire. But not his real secret. He’d resented his father’s guidance ever since he’d heard Dad counsel a troubled youth. From where Brock listened around the corner of the church door, his dad had shown more compassion and forgiveness to a kid he’d never met than he’d ever handed to Brock.

  Lost in memory, the shock of Oscar’s jump jarred him close to rolling down the creek bank. Chance laughed so hard Brock refused to chastise the dog. He accepted Chance’s outstretched hand and they brushed snow off each other.

  They reached the backdoor at the same time Everett turned into the drive. They waited.

  “I don’t have to remind you to get out of those wet clothes as soon as you get in.”

  “Yeah, I know. Gramma keeps a change of clothes in the mud room for me.”

  “You’re a fortunate young man to grow up visiting a place like this, with grandparents who love you.”

  Chance slapped snow off his pants. “I know. I love it in the country.”

  The garage door rolled up and a moment later Everett climbed from the car. He didn’t have a joyful expression on his face. “Izzy isn’t going to like what I found out. She’ll get in a dither and think there’s no way to get back for classes in January. I checked with my agent’s sister. He’s out of the office until the New Year. I also checked on rentals near the airport, and nothing’s available.”

  “Hey, Gramps. Aunt Izzy made fudge.”

  The homecoming was enough to convince Brock it was past time to start pursuing his dream. First thing when he got home, he’d check the available online courses through the Bible college in Omaha and dig out that note file he’d started for ideas on biblical concepts for a Sunday school class. The Lord would show him the way.

  Chance raced to the door. “Can Oscar come in?”

  “That’s up to your grandfather.”

  Everett nodded. Dog and boy noisily clamored through the door.

  Brock opened the door for Everett to precede him. The uplifting orchestration of Christmas tunes welcomed them. “So what’s with the rental cars?”

  Everett shook his head. “There are none.”

  “If you will trust me, sir, I can take her to Colorado.”

  “You’ve done so much already. You saved Izzy. The two of you spent many hours together. If my daughter has no reservations, I sure don’t. Thank you seems so inadequate. But she can be insistent on doing things her own way. For example, we haven’t helped with student loans for a couple years now. I guide her as far as the car insurance, but she pays me back for the premiums.”

  “She isn’t too excited about the offer. I do believe you’ve raised an independent woman.”

  “Izzy needs her own car. There are no rentals because of the holiday usage, compounded by numerous accidents due to the storm.” Everett finally grinned. “Unless my daughter wants to drive an oversized commercial van or soft-top convertible without front-wheel drive.”

  Izzy waited inside. The look on her face said she’d heard her father. “I absolutely hate feeling trapped. And that’s how I feel here without my car or the hope of getting something to drive!”

  “Sorry, honey. I’m doing the best I can.” Everett sloughed off his coat and hat. “I’m off to change. I’d appreciate something hot to drink when I come back down.”

  Brock pulled Izzy in for a hug. “I think I get it. Based on your previous statements, the car accident wasn’t your first experience in a dark enclosed space. You’ve been trapped, so you prefer a lot of air round you and avoid being chased into a corner of any kind without a clear means of escape.”

  “That’s right. That nightmare I had at your house? There’s more to it than the terror of being accidently locked in that shed when I was a girl.” She tried to breathe, but it was shallow and came out in a pant. She closed her eyes.

  He waited her out.

  “At the beginning of my sophomore year following a pep rally, I was riding in the backseat of a car with a former boyfriend of my roommate’s. I don’t want to talk about that now.”

  They still had a few days. “You will tell me about it though, and I insist you accept a ride from me. You don’t need the hassle or expense of finding a rental car.” He could almost feel a stab in his heart if she rejected the offer again.

  ~*~

  Izzy diverted her attention from the sink where she rinsed mugs, and searched Brock’s face. The probing intensity of his gaze spoke to her without words. She got it. Tension lifted and peace descended. “This is all out of my hands. The accident. Dad dealing with the insurance. Lack of a rental. God providing you.”

  “If I was a country music writer I’d carry on with lyrics like...Love in a blizzard. Love in a hospital room. Love before a fireplace. Love at two family tables. And like George Bailey offered to his girl in It’s A Wonderful Life, I’d lasso the moon for you if I could, Izzy.”

  Talk about a heart melting like chocolate in the microwave.

  He stepped into her space and took the mug from her hand. From behind his back, he lifted a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. As if they needed it.

  Through the expressive motion of his lips, Brock told Izzy how much he wanted to help. Why would he drop everything and drive her back to school? Was it a way to show he cared for her personally or an indication of his giving nature? Did he need to fill something within himself? She didn’t want to believe he’d be so selfless for someone who wasn’t her—as generous as he was—so maybe his heart was involved.

  She didn’t like the pressure, and he knew it. Not making her own decisions made her feel trapped in some invisible, intangible corner. She succumbed to a kiss that turned her thoughts to fizz.

  The noise of Mom getting home from work pulled them apart.

  Mom entered the house and saw them at the sink. “Brock, you’re staying for dinner.”

  The next two hours blurred because Izzy was full of Brock. He colored every taste, smell, sound, and feasting of the eyes. They touched every chance that presented itself.

  Mom and Dad danced a jig that ended in a smack of static electric sparks. The crackle of dry-air electricity set them all roaring.

  Her parents now watched the original Miracle on 34th Street and Chance used Oscar as a pillow in Abigail’s old room.

  Near the fireplace, Brock patted the cushion beside him. “Come talk to me, Izzy. Let’s get in touch with all those deep lingering memories of yours. I’ll make it feel all better.”

  She scooted in close to him and placed her hand over his where it rested on her shoulder. “All right. I’m somewhat claustrophobic and I hate small, dark enclosures due to getting locked in a shed by mistake. I was hiding from Abby, planning to jump out and scare her. She obviously had no reason to enter the garden shed, but Abby saw the door ajar and locked me inside.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Seven. She was fourteen. We’d been raking leaves and cleaning the yard.”

  Izzy looked up and he gave her a much-needed, tender kiss. It was quick, and she asked for another by focusing on his lips while staying in position. He obliged. The intensity curled her eyelashes.

  “Wow. Glad my dad didn
’t see that.

  “To continue, at first I thought Abby knew I was there and she’d be back in a minute. But I heard the door close on the house and Mom told me later it took less than thirty minutes to discover me missing and finding me.” That familiar quivery sensation spread over her.

  Brock rubbed her arm, grazing her cheek each time his hand rose above her shoulder.

  “What happened the second time?”

  “I called Abigail after the college incident but I never did tell Mom and Dad because they’d paid for me to talk to someone when the nightmares about the shed hit me as a pre-teen. This was much more serious, and I should have pressed charges. A former roommate’s boyfriend, high on some kind of drug, attacked me with a knife. I’d fallen asleep and woke up to his manic voice and a blade at my throat. Only God saved me from more than a nick. I must have taken him by surprise because I used the palm of my hand and broke his nose. I jumped out of the car. Thank God it was a four-door. I called nine-one-one.”

  “Still friends with the girl?”

  “Nope. She claimed the guy meant no harm and didn’t believe my side of the story. I concluded her heart was as empty as a prized vase void of flowers. It was her problem if she chose men with that kind of mentality. Sorry, Lord, for talking about someone You created.”

  Brock gave that chortle/snort thing she loved. “You are something else, something beautiful, Izzy. I’m sure God is glad you broke off the connection with that girl. And I get it about an empty vase. I often use a similar expression, as in a toolbox without hammer and pliers.”

  She let her eyes drift shut, leaning against his strong body.

  “Izzy, in this short time I’ve come to know you I like everything about you. I want to know you better. God made no mistake when He orchestrated it so I was the one who found you down that embankment.”

  “Have you considered how far away I am? I’ve never heard of a long-distance relationship that worked. My home is in Denver. The semester before graduation, this spring, I hope to be working with the pro football team doing an internship.”