One Charmed Christmas

by Sheila Roberts

  “She’s pretty sweet, Mom. The kids fell in love with her.”

  “Good, then they can have her.”

  Now he looked hurt. “I thought you’d like her.”

  Catherine looked down at the little dog sitting on her haunches, looking up at her, stubby tail wagging tentatively. “What am I supposed to do with her if I want to take a trip?” Who knew? Maybe she’d want to take another cruise with Denise.

  “Lila or I can watch her.”

  “And when I’m doing chemo?”

  “Chemo?” he said sharply.

  Oh, dear. Now look what she’d done.

  “Wait a minute. I thought you only had to have surgery.”

  “Well, I don’t,” she said crossly. Which of them she was most cross with she wasn’t sure. “I have chemo starting in January and radiation after that. I don’t have time for a dog.”

  Her son’s smile vanished. “Shit, Mom. You might have told us.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you. You’re all so...busy.” Yes, there was the accusation again.

  He looked at her, horrified. “You need to tell us this stuff. We’re your kids.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t see that much of you.” The little root of bitterness that had been lurking in her ever since her children each told her of their plans for the holidays sprouted up into a full-grown plant, refusing to be ignored any longer.

  He sat next to her and put an arm around her. “I’m sorry, Mom. Why are they doing this? I don’t understand.”

  He looked so worried. Shame on you, she scolded herself, dumping all this on him right before Christmas.

  “The doctor was worried they might not have gotten everything with the surgery.”

  He pulled away, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, shut his eyes tightly and swore. Rubbed a hand over his forehead. A grown man determined not to cry in front of his mother.

  “Mom, you should have told us.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.” And now here she was worrying him. She was pathetic.

  “It will be all right,” she assured him.

  He scowled at her. “Yeah, right. That’s why you didn’t tell us, ’cause it will be all right?” He swore again.

  She thought she’d been unhappy that her children were taking off for the holidays. That was nothing compared to how unhappy she felt now. She was a two-legged Christmas wet blanket.

  “We shouldn’t be leaving you,” he said, shaking his head.

  ’Tis the season for a guilt trip. Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la. She should never have let it slip about the chemo. She hadn’t planned to tell her children about it until the new year if at all, and now here she was, spilling toxic news all over her son.

  Cookie put a paw on Catherine’s leg and looked up at her with a whimper. She picked up the little dog and settled her in her lap.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Yeah, you should have. You need to tell us this stuff. How can we help you if we don’t know?”

  He did have a valid point. Maybe her children didn’t give enough because she didn’t ask enough. Maybe she needed to stop being a martyr and act a little more like a queen.

  “Does Lila know?”

  Catherine shook her head.

  “When were you going to tell us about this?”

  “Eventually.”

  “I’m canceling our trip.” He pulled out his phone.

  And then she’d have one of her children with her for Christmas. Wouldn’t that be a triumph, binding her son and his family to her with guilt, ruining a getaway they’d been looking forward to?

  She put a hand over his to stop the frantic texting. “No, don’t do that. You go and have fun.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that when I know you’ve got this coming up?”

  “The same as you would have if you hadn’t known. I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Yes, you should have. And you should have told Lila, too. She’s gonna shit a brick when she hears.”

  “I’ll tell her after the holidays.” She’d work on getting in touch with her inner queen come the new year.

  “You can’t be by yourself.”

  “Darling, I was going to be by myself before you heard about this,” she said, and his cheeks turned russet. Oh, dear. That was thoughtless.

  “It was Gabby’s idea. I shouldn’t have gone along with it.”

  “Yes, you should have, especially in light of our miserable time last Christmas. Happy wife, happy life. Remember?”

  “Like I can be happy now? I’m sorry, Mom. It was wrong to go off and leave you. I thought Lila was going to be here. By the time I found out she wasn’t we’d already made the arrangements and...” He stopped talking, frowned, shook his head. “I can’t believe this.”

  “It’s all right, really. I’m going to Denise’s Christmas Day, and it looks like I’ll have company on Christmas Eve,” Catherine said, looking down at the little dog curled up in her lap.

  “You want to keep her?” he asked eagerly.

  “I’ll keep her through Christmas. Then your family can have her.”

  “I bet by the time we get back you won’t want to give her up,” Will said.

  “A dog is a lot of work and I’m going to be...busy.”

  “Like I said, we’ll help you take care of her. At least see if you like her.”

  She hadn’t had a dog since their old basset hound, Sherlock, died. The kids had been in high school then and she and Bill had opted out of getting another pet.

  Catherine sighed. “Animals are a lot of work. I’m going to have to go out and buy dog food.”

  “No, you won’t. I’ve got it in the car. And a dog bed, travel crate, leash, chew toy. You name it. Gabby went crazy. Oh, one more thing.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a check. “Sorry it took me so long to pay you back.”

  The money she’d lent him. “You didn’t have to,” she said. But it made her happy that he did.

  “Yeah, I did. I know I don’t tell you often enough, Mom, but I really do appreciate all you’ve done for us. All you do. Anything you need once you start chemo, you just say the word.”

  She nodded, her throat too clogged with emotion to speak.

  “Hey, I’ll go get Cookie’s stuff. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Not that Catherine was going to keep the dog but the poor thing had to stay someplace until Will returned. “And I’ll fill a plate with some cookies for all of you,” she said. “I just baked this afternoon.”

  “The boys will love that,” he said.

  Her son went to fetch Cookie’s things and Catherine went out to the kitchen to load treats into a cookie tin. The dog trotted after her and sat observing while she worked.

  “I bet you think you’re going to get some of this,” Catherine said.

  Cookie’s tail thumped.

  “Well, you’re not. These wouldn’t be good for you. They won’t be good for me, either, but I’m a human and I get to make bad choices.”

  Listen to her. She was already talking to the dog like they were boon companions. Good grief.

  She gathered the presents for Will’s family into another couple of shopping bags while he brought in all of Cookie’s things, set the dog bed on the floor in Catherine’s bedroom and stowed the dog food in the pantry after pouring some into a double-dish dog bowl, along with water.

  “I took her for a walk before we came so she should be good to go for tonight. But if you’re worried, you can let her out in the backyard.”

  Where she would make a mess. Just what Catherine wanted to be doing, shoveling doggy-do. Or worse, walking the dog, plastic bag in hand, ready to do poop patrol. She was not—was not!—keeping this dog.

  She handed over the treats for the family, as
well as their presents, and walked her son to the door.

  “You need to tell Lila,” he said.

  “I will.”

  “If you don’t, I will,” he threatened. Then he bent over, gave her a hug. “We’ll FaceTime you Christmas morning. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. FaceTime was better than no time.

  She thought for sure the little dog would want to trot out the door after him, but Cookie stayed by her side, then followed her back into the living room, settling at her feet once Catherine was back on the couch.

  “You’re awfully well behaved. You know that?” Catherine said to the dog, and Cookie barked and wagged her tail. “I suppose you’d like to sit up here with me.”

  Another woof and tail wag.

  “All right. But we’re not going to make a habit of this,” Catherine said, and picked up the dog. She set Cookie next to her and scratched behind her ears. Cookie promptly fell onto her back, eager for a belly rub. “What’s your story, anyway?” Catherine asked as she obliged. “Somebody must have loved you. Did your owner die? I guess we’ll never know. You’ll make a nice houseguest.” And that was all Cookie was going to be because her son was getting this dog back as soon as he got home.

  Meanwhile, though...the house suddenly didn’t seem so empty.

  “Let’s watch a movie, shall we?” Catherine asked. She picked up the TV remote and Cookie snuggled up against her and laid her head in Catherine’s lap. “Something with a dog in it, I’m thinking. What do you think?”

  Cookie’s ears went up.

  “Yes, definitely something with a dog in it.”

  It took a while to find a movie where the dog didn’t die. “The kids liked this one,” she said to Cookie, and began to stream Beethoven. “Now, there’s a dog I’d never have,” Catherine said. “Saint Bernards are terrible slobberers.”

  The movie was cute and Catherine enjoyed it. She also enjoyed having the little dog with her on the couch. But what a nuisance it was having to let her out to go potty later. And what a nuisance to have to feed her the next day and take her out for a walk.

  “Dr. Dimatrova did say I needed to walk a mile every day once I start chemo, whether I feel like it or not,” she informed Cookie as they started down the sidewalk in the morning fog. “If I have you with me I’ll have to do that, won’t I?”

  Oh, no. Was she really thinking about keeping this dog?

  After their morning walk she had another email from Sierra. Let me know when you start chemo. I’ll bring you chicken noodle soup.

  And that afternoon a text from Sophie. I just toured Cupid’s Chocolates. Yum!

  “It’s good to hear that things are progressing nicely between Sophie and Trevor,” she said to Cookie. Cookie barked her agreement and wagged her tail.

  Actually, it was good to hear from both the sisters. Two days before Christmas she heard from them again, this time via the mail. Sierra sent a box of lavender-scented soap and Sophie sent a box of chocolates from Cupid’s Chocolates.

  To be remembered by such new friends warmed her heart. “You have a lot to be thankful for,” she told herself.

  And what a difference in attitude that was from the Christmas before. Not that she didn’t have her moments when she wished Bill was still with her, when she didn’t look at the mantelpiece with the two empty stockings hanging from it and tear up, but she was starting to use the good moments to counterbalance the bad ones.

  She wrote thank-you notes to both sisters, stuck them in her mailbox for pickup and then did a little shopping of her own. Online. She found a book for Sophie on herbal medicines and an inspirational book for Sierra on how to get past a breakup, then had them shipped. Then she took a bath and enjoyed using the lavender soap.

  And tried not to think about the fact that she hadn’t heard from either Rudy or Athena. She had, on impulse, sent Athena a Christmas card. Probably a silly idea. Those two would go on the list of people who merely passed through your life, the human equivalent of a cruise ship, headed for a new destination.

  Then, Christmas Eve, the postman delivered a package. From California.

  18

  The return address on the box said Santa Monica. Rudy and Athena both lived in Santa Monica but she didn’t remember the rest of either of their addresses. She carried it out to the kitchen, Cookie trotting along behind.

  She got scissors and opened the box, her heart thumping in rhythm with Cookie’s tail. Something from Rudy? Was it possible?

  Inside it was another box, wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with raffia ribbon. On top of the box sat a red envelope. She opened it and pulled out a Christmas card. Inside it was signed, Merry Christmas from Athena.

  No Rudy added to the signature and that was disappointing. Although it shouldn’t have been. She’d known what they’d started was done and would fall into the category of Christmas past.

  Still, it warmed Catherine’s heart that his daughter had thought of her. “Isn’t that sweet?” she said to Cookie. “I’ll put it under the tree to open Christmas morning.”

  Except Cookie was liable to eat the ribbon. She’d just have to open the present right then and there. She worked the ribbon off the box, pulled away the wrapping paper and lifted the lid.

  There sat a large version of the hand-painted glass globe candleholders she’d bought for her daughter and daughter-in-law. This one was blue, featuring a night sky over a small-town snow-covered street. The houses made her think of Germany. She’d admired a globe just like this one but refrained from spending the money on herself. Now here she had one, and from such an unexpected source.

  She gave it a place of honor on her dining room table, then sat down at her little kitchen desk and wrote a thank-you note to Athena.

  Dear Athena,

  I just received the most lovely surprise in the mail today. How kind of you to think of me! Needless to say, I’m thrilled, and your thoughtfulness has helped to make this Christmas very special. I do hope you’ll have a wonderful one. Give my best to your father.

  Oh, no. That was not a good idea. She tossed the note in the wastebasket and wrote a new one, leaving out any mention of Rudy. If he’d wanted to continue things he’d have signed his name to the card, as well. Unlike the relationship that was slowly growing with the sisters, Catherine doubted this one with Athena would last. Still, she would treasure the present, almost as much as the bracelet and charms Rudy had bought her. More artifacts.

  So what? she decided. Artifacts were valuable things.

  * * *

  Christmas Eve at the Miles residence was always a night for laughter and good-natured teasing. Someone always threatened to report Sophie, Sierra or Drew’s naughty behavior to Santa. When the Miles siblings were little, it had been Dad, telling them he was going to call Santa’s hotline and instruct him to pass by their house if they didn’t settle down and go to sleep. As the years went by the methods of communication changed to email. Now that they were grown the warnings turned to teasing and threats of texts, and with naughty behavior a thing of the past, both Dad and kids settled for promising to report suspicious behavior. Dad loved playing the suspicious behavior card, partly because Drew was a cop, but also because he could stay vague. Suspicious behavior ranged from snagging the last piece of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving to doing too much gloating when winning at cards.

  This Christmas Eve, the teasing felt a little forced and it was limited to Sophie and Drew.

  Sierra was trying to be a good sport, but Sophie found her sister’s attempted smiles and laughter harder to bear than if she’d cried.

  Family tradition allowed opening one present on Christmas Eve, and the three siblings knew what that would be—the same as it had been since they’d been small—Christmas pj’s. This year’s version were holiday elf pajamas, featuring green tops over green striped bottoms. Elf ears completed the ensemble.

 
“Got to add this to the picture collection,” Dad said. “Next year, maybe we’ll have another elf in the family, eh?” he added, winking at Drew. They all knew of Drew’s plans to spring an engagement ring on his girlfriend New Year’s Eve. “Okay, kids. Everyone on the couch.”

  The sisters sat on either side of Drew, his arms draped over them. “Say Christmas pickle,” Dad coached, aiming his phone at them.

  “Christmas pickle,” belted Drew and Sophie.

  “Christmas pickle,” said Sierra, a faint echo.

  “Take one for me, too,” Sophie said to her father, handing over her phone.

  “Okay, Christmas pickle one more time,” he said.

  Once more Sophie and Drew tried to inject extra enthusiasm into the moment to make up for their sister’s lack of it. They didn’t quite succeed.

  No one should be unhappy at Christmas, Sophie thought, especially her sister. It was so wrong. Thank you, Mark. She hoped, wherever he was, someone fed him peppermint bark laced with reindeer poop.

  “Clam chowder is ready,” their mother called from the kitchen.

  “All right,” Drew said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s eat.” He pulled Sierra off the couch. “Come on, sis, let’s drown your troubles in chowder.”

  Sierra rallied enough to eat chowder and garlic bread and sample several of the Spritz cookies Sophie had brought. Maybe she’d be able to enjoy the rest of the evening.

  After dinner was finished and the siblings had done kitchen cleanup, their dad put in the DVD that Drew had made for the parents, a compilation of pictures from Christmases past. For background music, he’d inserted snippets from favorite holiday songs. “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” accompanied shots of the two grandmas enjoying Christmas cookies. Bittersweet. One grandma they’d see the following day. The other was no longer with them. “White Christmas” played as several pictures faded in and out of the siblings playing in the snow, and “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” accompanied several shots everyone had taken from different angles the year Dad dropped the turkey on his way to the dining room table.