“You’re laughing at me.”
“No, I’m not. I’m smiling. There’s a big difference.”
“There’s a big difference in your hair, too. This isn’t fair.” She tried again to flatten the static-empowered strays and ended by retrieving a band from her pocket and twisting it around the longer strands.
“Sorry. But unless you want me to douse you with warm cocoa, there’s not much I can do to help your fly-away look.”
She shot him a warning and licked her palm before running it over her head.
He stifled a belly laugh at her obvious frustration and focused on the windshield. Lights were flickering on in ranch houses and highway signs glowed against the falling darkness. “Want to stop in Fort Collins, Loveland, or go all the way?”
She glared at him.
“Home.” He chuckled in spite of himself. “All the way home. To the Berthoud Boarding House. To Mollie.”
Obviously embarrassed, she stared straight ahead. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stop. Breakfast and cookies aren’t enough for me after all that exertion today.”
He snorted. “Exertion? Who cut the tree and dragged it out?”
“And who had to defend herself from assault in a less-than-superior position on her backside in the snow?”
He caught the playful taunt in her voice and nodded in agreement. “You’ve got me there.”
He tracked a passing road sign with several restaurant logos. “So what’s your pleasure? Chicken, tacos, noodles, or steak?”
“Chicken. Unless you prefer steak.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I prefer steak. Chicken it is.”
“How chivalrous of you.”
“You’re welcome.
****
The hot food warmed Matt from the inside out, and Angela’s company made it even better. Most nights he ate alone.
“So tell me about yourself.” She eyed him over her coffee.
“What’s to tell? I’m a freelance architect, and I’m renovating the Oxford place.”
She set down her cup and grabbed a piece of chicken. “Tell me about growing up. You know about my childhood. I’m sure Mollie filled you in on all the glorious details.”
He knew this would happen. He took a deep breath, scooped in a mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy, and swallowed. “My mom was an alcoholic.” Might as well shoot straight for the teacher. She’d probably heard it all before.
Her expression softened as she waited for him to elaborate.
“No dad in the picture. Mom worked when she was sober, but we lived on welfare most of the time, and charity from a nearby church. I wanted my life to be different, and after high school I moved in with a buddy. Got an associate’s degree at the local junior college and my grades earned me a scholarship to UC Boulder. Mom died before I graduated.”
She fingered her napkin. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry. It sounds like you didn’t have much of a family life.”
He finished off his potatoes and picked up his coffee. “Nada.”
“A lot of kids have a similar story. More than half of my students come from single-parent homes or blended families. Some of them have a strong core unit, but many of them don’t.”
He noticed a subtle change in her tone.
“You’d be an inspiration to them,” she said.
“Me? Why?”
She leaned forward on her elbows. “Because you persevered. You didn’t quit, and you made a life for yourself.”
He glanced at the chicken bones on his plate. “That church I mentioned helped in that department. A youth leader there kept a close watch on me.”
For the first time, her face registered surprise. “So why the strong objection to going with Mollie and me today?”
Her question cut closer than this morning’s shave. He didn’t want to go that deep, but he felt the layers falling away beneath the smooth edge of her sincerity.
“My mom was a hypocrite. She’d go to church on Sunday morning, sing at the top of her voice, repent and cry, and drink herself stupid that night.” He looked across the table into compassionate eyes. “It sickened me.”
“But the youth leader hung on.”
“Yeah, he did. He was the closest thing I had to a father.” He drained his coffee, set the cup in his plate, and scooted to the open end of the booth seat.
“All of us have a little hypocrite hiding inside,” she said softly. “What better place to go when you’re hurting and need help than to God?”
The bare truth of her quiet statement hit him in the chest, and he felt the first discomfort of the day. “Time to go.”
Disappointment colored her voice. “You’re right. We don’t want Mollie to worry about us.”
He took both their plates to the trash and recalled Mollie’s parting message. She’d shown him more motherly attention in a week than his own mother ever had.
****
His full disclosure clouded the space between them, and Angela blamed herself. They drove through the night in silence, testimony that he hadn’t appreciated her interrogation. She’d obviously pulled a scab off a still-tender wound.
An overhead highway sign announced nine miles until the Berthoud exit, and she thought back over the day they’d spent. Until dinner, she’d had more fun than she’d ever had with Aaron.
The truck’s headlights caught an unfamiliar shape on the shoulder, and she looked closer as they sped by. “Did you see that? It might have been a dog.”
“Probably a coyote,” Matt said without slowing his speed.
“No, really. I think it was a dog. Can’t we go back? It could be hit out here on the highway.”
He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, but she didn’t care. “Please.”
He took his foot off the accelerator, flipped on his right signal, and slowed to a stop on the shoulder. “You sure about this?”
“Yes. What if it’s lost? Or abandoned?”
He shoved the truck into reverse and stretched his right arm across the seat as he slowly backed up. “I don’t see it. Probably took off.”
“Keep going. A little farther.” She twisted around in her seat and peered into the dark, praying the animal hadn’t run into traffic and been hit. “There!”
He braked to a slow stop and put the truck in park.
“He’s limping. Oh, Matt, I think he’s hurt.” She unfastened her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.
“Hang on a minute.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t go out there. It could be dangerous or rabid.”
She dared him with an arched eyebrow. “I’m going. You coming?”
He muttered something under his breath. “Hold on. Let me go first.”
The skinny dog limped along the edge of the roadway, head and tail drooping. When they stepped out of the pickup, it stopped and lifted its head.
Matt cut in front of her and stooped down. “Come on boy. You OK?”
The gangly animal wagged its tail but didn’t move.
“See, he’s friendly,” Angela said.
He held his arm out to block her approach. “Give me a second here.” He inched closer, still stooped, but angled away, leading with his right side. “Come on fella. We’re not going to hurt you.”
The dog lowered its head and whined. The tail continued to wag.
Matt reached into his pocket for a work glove and slipped it on. He held his hand out for the dog to sniff, fingers down.
The animal nosed his palm and whimpered, then dropped to the pavement.
Matt stroked the scruffy head and scooted closer, reaching back along the emaciated body.
“Oh, Matt, he’s so thin. He must be starving.” Angela knelt on the off-road side, and following Matt’s lead, offering the scent of own gloved hands. The thin tail thumped the ground and a deep moan emanated from its throat. Angela’s eyes teared as she rubbed along the bony back, feeling every rib.
“We have to
take him home.” She silently pleaded with him to agree and saw the moment he relented. “Thank you,” she whispered, laying a hand on his arm. Her breath formed a white cloud between them.
“I’m going to pick you up, boy.” He bent lower and pushed his arms underneath. The dog released a long sigh as Matt’s low soothing voice intoned around it.
Angela ran to open the passenger door.
Laying the dog on the floor, he gently pulled his arms away. She climbed onto the seat and traded places with the basket, settling her feet on the floor at the dog’s head. It whimpered and raised its nose to her boots with the quick flick of a pink tongue.
Matt slid in behind the wheel and shut the door. He shook his head as he fastened his seatbelt and looked at her. “You’re really something, you know that?”
Glad it was dark so he couldn’t see her wet lashes, she leaned over. “He’s grateful. You can see it in his eyes.”
“Put on your seatbelt.” Matt pulled a retracted belt from the center of the bench seat while she felt for the other half.
His hand clasped hers as she connected the two halves, and a warm tingle traveled through her arms and into her shoulders. “Thank you for stopping,” she said. “You’re my hero.”
They drove the remaining few miles in silence, and each time she leaned over the dog it thumped its tail as if it knew she cared. What would Mollie say when they came through the door with this bag of bones? As a child, Angela once brought home a stray kitten, and her grandmother heated milk and made a bed on the back porch. Would she respond in kind to a mongrel they’d found limping along the highway?
****
Matt had been called a few choice names in his life aside from the recent Scrooge incident, but never “hero.” His chest tightened at the memory of Angela’s soft voice and shining eyes. He knew she’d shed a few tears, but they were for that mutt on the floor, not his acquiescence to her request. Did it matter?
Yes.
The porch light welcomed them home and a dim glow from the back of the house said Mollie was waiting in the kitchen. He hoped for Angela’s sake the woman welcomed the dog as easily as she’d welcomed him in his hour of need.
“Go open the door, and I’ll carry him in.”
Angela scooted out the driver’s side behind him and reached for the picnic basket. Then she laid a hand on his chest and paused. “Again, thank you.”
The light touch of her fingers sucked the breath out of him, and he pushed away the temptation to lean down and kiss her. “You’re welcome.”
When they opened the front door, “In the kitchen” floated down the hallway. Matt attempted a deep breath as he approached the warm, cheerful room.
“We brought something besides a tree,” he said, his arms full of matted hair and sagging skin.
The dog raised its ragged head and looked at Mollie, pumping its tail in a feeble hello.
“Oh, you poor dear.” Both hands flew to her cheeks, and she rushed across the kitchen. “Just look at you.” She narrowed her eyes at Matt. “Did you hit him?”
He huffed out a relieved chuckle. “No. Your granddaughter here didn’t want to leave him limping along the interstate, so of course we went back and picked him up.”
Angela was already in the enclosed back porch making a bed out of old blankets. “Bring him out here,” she called.
“I’ll get him some water and a few pieces of left over roast.” Mollie dug an aluminum dish out of her drawer of odd pots and pans and filled it with cool water. Then she retrieved the roast from the oven and cut off a few bite-sized pieces. “I don’t think he’s eaten in quite some time. We don’t want to give him too much and make him sick.” She dropped the pieces into a china soup bowl, and Matt cocked an eyebrow.
“He’s a guest,” she said.
Mollie followed him out to the porch and set the bowl close to the blankets. “I do have a dishwasher, you know.”
The three of them watched the dog inhale the tender bits of roast, cough a couple of times, and then lick its jowls. It looked at them as if to say thank you. Then it drank slowly from the aluminum bowl. With one more grateful glance, it laid its big head on its front paws and sighed with contentment.
“You are very welcome,” Mollie said and returned to the kitchen.
Matt and Angela followed, and she closed the door, looking through the glass pane at the peaceful dog. “What shall we call him?”
“Rover?” Matt said.
“No.”
“Butch?”
“No!”
“How ‘bout Roady?”
She gave him a puzzled look. “Like people who follow their favorite band around, helping them set up?”
“Yeah. Sort of.” Matt rubbed the side of his head and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Why not? We did find him on the road.”
“Well, he didn’t set up anything, but I guess it’ll do.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Mollie mumbled to herself.
Matt caught a sly smile on the woman’s kind face.
“I think you should take Roady to the vet tomorrow.” Mollie untied her apron and hung it over a ladder back chair. “Make sure he doesn’t have the mange, get his teeth checked, and see if he needs any shots. A crippled house guest is one thing, but a mangy critter is quite another.”
Angela pulled her grandmother into a hug. “Does this mean we can keep him?”
Mollie returned the affectionate squeeze. “If someone doesn’t come looking for him, yes. But you should run an ad all the same, just to be sure.”
“Thanks, Mollie.” Angela planted a kiss on each rosy cheek. “That’s what we did for the kitten, remember? How long did we wait for someone to come for it?”
Mollie pattered into the hall and called back. “About ten years, if my memory serves me. Good night, you two. Put the roast away before you turn in. I’m going to bed.”
Angela giggled and joined Matt at the table, happier than he’d seen her in the last two days. “You hungry?”
He shook his head. “No, believe it or not. I just need a hot shower after all the tree lugging and dog carrying. Especially the tree lugging.”
She smiled across the short distance, and he wondered why her boyfriend hadn’t come with her. What an idiot.
“You go ahead, and I’ll unpack the basket.”
He forced himself to keep his grimy hands from reaching across the table. “Sure you don’t need my help?”
She stood and her eyes sparkled with silent laughter. “Scoot,” she said, mimicking Mollie’s hand flutter. Her gaze swept the length of his coat. “If you have another jacket, leave that one by the front door, and I’ll take it to the cleaners tomorrow. Off with you now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He slipped his coat off. “You’re as bossy as your grandmother.”
“I’ve had lots of practice.”
“I know. I know,” he said as he headed for the hall. “Third graders.”
6
The delicious promise of homemade waffles teased from the hallway, pulling Angela out of bed, into her clothes, and straight to the kitchen.
“Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”
“Like a stone, as always.” She gave her grandmother a quick hug from behind and then went to the porch door to check on their newest house guest. She shook her head at the roast and waffle breakfast disappearing beneath Roady’s snout. “You’re spoiling him, you know.”
“Not possible. That poor thing hasn’t eaten well since I don’t know when.”
Angela noticed a syrupy plate in the sink, and the sight plucked a note of disappointment. “Did Matt already eat and leave?”
“Yes, he’s long gone. Wanted to check on things at his place but he did get the tree up.” Mollie turned from her post at the waffle iron. “Did you see it? It’s lovely.”
Angela went to the dining room entry and surveyed the stately spruce in the corner. Even from the doorway she detected its fresh scent. The perfume stirred images of her day with Matt. “Y
ou’re right. It is lovely. Even without decorations.”
“I knew you’d find the perfect tree.” Mollie lifted a similarly perfect waffle from the iron and laid it on a flower-edged china plate. “If only you had such taste in men,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What was that?” Angela took the plate and sat at the table where she spread butter across the waffle squares and filled each one with thick, amber syrup.
“I said you have good taste in trees.” Mollie brought another plate and joined her.
Angela shot an accusing glance across the table. “Uh-huh.”
“I’ve been doing a little research this morning.” Mollie glazed her own waffle. “That mongrel out there looks to be part Airedale. Did you know they shed their entire coat twice a year?”
Angela wasn’t surprised by her grandmother’s newfound knowledge. Although old fashioned, Mollie was quite adept at Googling anything she needed to learn.
“Part?”
“His tail’s not quite right for a purebred.”
“So you’re an expert now?” She snickered at her grandmother’s air of authority. “Well, his teeth must be in good condition. He’s made short work of all your snacks.”
“They still need to be checked. And on your way home from the vet, get some dry dog food and one of those nice big beds. He’ll need something a little better than old blankets this winter.”
Angela hid her grin behind her coffee-filled teacup. Roady obviously had a new fan. “Aren’t you going to help me get him to the vet?”
“Oh, no. Matthew will be back this morning to take him in the truck. He assured me of that before he left.”
Angela’s arms tingled and the spark danced down to her fingertips.
Mollie studied her. “Do you consider that good news, dear?”
Her defenses flared. “Why would I consider it good news?”
“You’re evading my question.”
Angela sighed. She didn’t want to go there with her grandmother. She hadn’t gone there with herself. “You’re doing it again, Mollie Matchmaker.” She gathered her dishes and took them to the sink.
Mollie swept away the words with a hand. “I’m doing no such thing. Matthew is a nice young man. So much more well-rounded than that self-absorbed thing you brought with you last summer. Couldn’t even stay more than a few days. Had to dash back to Greeley for whatever reason.”
As You Are at Christmas Page 4
