A Christmas Message

by Debbie Macomber

  While the girls were occupied in their bedroom, she put on a Christmas CD she particularly liked and started the bath. When she glanced into the living room, she saw Wynn collapsed on the sofa, legs stretched out.

  “It hasn’t been so bad,” he said, as though that was proof his theories were working well. “As soon as the twins are down, we can talk,” he murmured, “about us...”

  K.O. wasn’t ready for that, feeling he should spend more time with the girls. She felt honor-bound to remind Wynn of what he’d written in his book. “Didn’t you say that children know when they need sleep and we as adults should trust them to set their own schedules?”

  He seemed about to argue with her, but then abruptly sat up and pointed across the room. “What’s that?”

  A naked dog strolled into the living room. Rather, a hairless dog.

  “Zero? Zorro?” K.O. asked. “Oh, my goodness!” She dashed into the bathroom to discover Zara sitting on the floor with Wynn’s electric shaver. A pile of brown-and-black dog hair littered the area.

  “What happened?” Wynn cried, hard on her heels. His mouth fell open when he saw the girls intent on their task. They’d gone through his toiletries, which were spread across the countertop next to the sink. K.O. realized that the hum of the shaver had been concealed by the melodious strains of “Silent Night.” “What are you doing?”

  “We’re giving haircuts,” Zara announced. “Do you want one?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two hours later, at ten-thirty, both Zoe and Zara were in their beds and asleep. This was no small accomplishment. After half a dozen stories, the girls were finally down for the night. K.O. tiptoed out of the room and as quietly as possible closed the door. Wynn was just ahead of her and looked as exhausted as she felt.

  Zero regarded K.O. forlornly from the hallway. The poor dog had been almost completely shaved. He stared up at her, hairless and shivering. Zorro still had half his hair. The Yorkshire terrier’s left side had been sheared before K.O. managed to snatch the razor out of her niece’s hand. Last winter Zelda had knit tiny dog sweaters, which K.O. found, and with Wynn’s help slipped over the two terriers. At least they’d be warm, although neither dog seemed especially grateful.

  K.O. sank down on the sofa beside Wynn, with the dogs nestled at their feet. Breathing out a long, deep sigh, she gazed up at the ceiling. Wynn was curiously quiet.

  “I feel like going to bed myself,” she murmured when she’d recovered enough energy to speak.

  “What time are your sister and brother-in-law supposed to return?” Wynn asked with what seemed to require an extraordinary amount of effort.

  “Zelda said they should be home by three.”

  “That late?”

  K.O. couldn’t keep the grin off her face. It was just as she’d hoped. She wouldn’t have to argue about the problem with his Free Child theories, since he’d been able to witness for himself the havoc they caused.

  Straightening, K.O. suggested they listen to some more music.

  “That won’t disturb them, will it?” he asked when she got up to put on another CD. Evidently he had no interest in anything that might wake the girls.

  “I should hope not.” She found the Christmas CD she’d given to Zelda two years earlier, and inserted it in the player. It featured a number of pop artists. Smiling over at Wynn, she lowered the volume. John Denver’s voice reached softly into the room, singing “Joy to the World.”

  Wynn turned off the floor lamp, so the only illumination came from the Christmas-tree lights. The mood was cheerful and yet relaxed.

  For the first time in days they were alone. The incident with Wynn’s father and the demands of the twins were the last things on K.O.’s mind.

  Wynn placed his arm across the back of the sofa and she sat close to him, resting her head against his shoulder. All they needed now was a glass of wine and a kiss or two. Romance swirled through the room with the music and Christmas lights. Wynn must’ve felt it, too, because he turned her in his arms. K.O. started to close her eyes, anticipating his kiss, when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye.

  She gasped.

  A mouse...a rodent ran across the floor.

  Instantly alarmed, K.O. jerked away from Wynn.

  He bolted upright. “What is it?”

  “A mouse.” She hated mice. “There,” she cried, covering her mouth to stifle a scream. She pointed as the rodent scampered under the Christmas tree.

  Wynn leaped to his feet. “I see it.”

  Apparently so did Zero, because he let out a yelp and headed right for the tree. Zorro followed.

  K.O. brought both feet onto the sofa and hugged her knees. It was completely unreasonable—and so clichéd—to be terrified of a little mouse. But she was. While logic told her a mouse was harmless, that knowledge didn’t help.

  “You have to get it out of here,” she whimpered as panic set in.

  “I’ll catch it,” he shouted and dived under the Christmas tree, toppling it. The tree slammed against the floor, shattering several bulbs. Ornaments rolled in all directions. The dogs ran for cover. Fortunately the tree was still plugged in because it offered what little light was available.

  Unable to watch, K.O. hid her eyes. She wondered what Wynn would do if he did manage to corner the rodent. The thought of him killing it right there in her sister’s living room was intolerable.

  “Don’t kill it,” she insisted and removed her hands from her eyes to find Wynn on his hands and knees, staring at her.

  The mouse darted across the floor and raced under the sofa, where K.O. just happened to be sitting.

  Zero and Zorro ran after it, yelping frantically.

  K.O. screeched and scrambled to a standing position on the sofa. Not knowing what else to do, she bounced from one cushion to the other.

  Zero had buried his nose as far as it would go under the sofa. Zorro dashed back and forth on the carpet. As hard as she tried, K.O. couldn’t keep still and began hopping up and down, crying out in abject terror. She didn’t care if she woke the girls or not, there was a mouse directly beneath her feet...somewhere. For all she knew, it could have crawled into the sofa itself.

  That thought made her jump from the middle of the sofa, over the armrest and onto the floor, narrowly missing Zero. The lamp fell when she landed, but she was able to catch it seconds before it crashed to the floor. As she righted the lamp, she flipped it on, provided a welcome circle of light.

  Meanwhile, Barry Manilow crooned out “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

  Still on all fours, Wynn crept across the carpet to the sofa, which he overturned. As it pitched onto its back, the mouse shot out.

  Directly at K.O.

  She screamed.

  Zero yelped.

  Zorro tore fearlessly after it.

  K.O. screamed again and grabbed a basket in which Zelda kept her knitting. She emptied the basket and, more by instinct than anything else, flung it over the mouse, trapping him.

  Wynn sat up with a shocked look. “You got him!”

  Both dogs stood guard by the basket, sniffing at the edges. Zero scratched the carpet.

  Zelda’s yarn and needles were a tangled mess on the floor but seemed intact. Breathless, K.O. stared at the basket, not knowing what to do next. “It had a brown tail,” she commented.

  Wynn nodded. “I noticed that, too.”

  “I’ve never seen a mouse with a brown tail before.”

  “It’s an African brown-tailed mouse,” he said, sounding knowledgeable. “I saw a documentary on them.”

  “African mice are here in the States?” She wondered if Animal Control knew about this.

  He nodded again. “So I gather.”

  “What do we do now?” Because Wynn seemed to know more about this sort of thing, she looked to him for the answer.

 
“Kill it,” he said without a qualm.

  Zero and Zorro obviously agreed, because they both growled and clawed at the carpet, asking for the opportunity to do it themselves.

  “No way!” K.O. objected. She couldn’t allow him to kill it. The terriers, either. Although mice terrified her, K.O. couldn’t bear to hurt any of God’s creatures. “All I want you to do is get that brown-tailed mouse out of here.” As soon as Zelda returned, K.O. planned to suggest she call a pest control company to inspect the entire house. Although, if there were other mice around, she didn’t want to know it....

  “All right,” Wynn muttered. “I’ll take it outside and release it.”

  He got a newspaper and knelt down next to the dogs. Carefully, inch by inch, he slid the paper beneath the upended basket. When he’d finished that, he stood and carried the whole thing to the front door. Zero and Zorro followed, leaping up on their hind legs and barking wildly.

  K.O. hurried to open first the door and then the screen. The cold air felt good against her heated face.

  Wynn stepped onto the porch while K.O. held back the dogs by closing the screen door. They both objected strenuously and braced their front paws against the door, watching Wynn’s every movement.

  K.O. turned her back as Wynn released the African brown-tailed mouse into the great unknown. She wished the critter a pleasant life outside.

  “Is it gone?” she asked when Wynn came back into the house, careful to keep Zero and Zorro from escaping and racing after the varmint.

  “It’s gone, and I didn’t even need to touch it,” he assured her. He closed the door.

  K.O. smiled up at him. “My hero,” she whispered.

  Wynn playfully flexed his muscles. “Anything else I can do for you, my fair damsel?”

  Looping her arms around his neck, K.O. backed him up against the front door and rewarded him with a warm, moist kiss. Wynn wrapped his arms about her waist and half lifted her from the carpet.

  “You are my hero,” she whispered between kisses. “You saved me from that killer mouse.”

  “The African brown-tailed killer rat.”

  “It was a rat?”

  “A small one,” he murmured, and kissed her again before she could ask more questions.

  “A baby rat?” That meant there must be parents around and possibly siblings, perhaps any number of other little rats. “What makes you think it was a rat?” she demanded, fast losing interest in kissing.

  “He was fat. But perhaps he was just a fat mouse.”

  “Ah...”

  “You’re still grateful?”

  “Very grateful, but—”

  He kissed her again, then abruptly broke off the kiss. His eyes seemed to focus on something across the room.

  K.O. tensed, afraid he’d seen another mouse. Or rat. Or rodent of some description.

  It took genuine courage to glance over her shoulder, but she did it anyway. Fortunately she didn’t see anything—other than an overturned Christmas tree, scattered furniture and general chaos brought about by the Great Brown-Tailed Mouse Hunt.

  “The fishbowl has blue water,” he said.

  “Blue water?” K.O. dropped her arms and stared at the counter between the kitchen and the living room, where the fishbowl sat. Sure enough, the water was a deep blue.

  Wynn walked across the room.

  Before K.O. could ask what he was doing, Wynn pushed up his sweater sleeve and thrust his hand into the water. “Just as I thought,” he muttered, retrieving a gold pen.

  After she’d found the twins with Wynn’s electric shaver, she realized, they’d opened his overnight case.

  “This is a gold fountain pen,” he told her, holding up the dripping pen. “As it happens, this is a valuable gold fountain pen.”

  “With blue ink,” K.O. added. She didn’t think it could be too valuable, since it was leaking.

  She picked up the bowl with both hands and carried it into the kitchen, setting it in the sink. Scooping out the two goldfish, she put them in a temporary home—a coffee cup full of fresh, clean water—and refilled the bowl.

  Wynn was pacing the kitchen floor behind her.

  “Does your book say anything about situations like this?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  He glared at her and apparently that was all the answer he intended to give.

  “Aunt Katherine?” one of the twins shouted. “Come quick.” K.O. heard unmistakable panic in the little girl’s voice.

  Soon the two girls were both crying out.

  Hurrying into the bedroom with Wynn right behind her, K.O. found Zoe and Zara weeping loudly.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Freddy’s gone,” Zoe wailed.

  “Freddy?” she repeated. “Who’s Freddy?”

  “Our hamster,” Zoe explained, pointing at what K.O. now recognized as a cage against the far wall. “He must’ve figured out how to open his cage.”

  A chill went through her. “Does Freddy have a brown tail and happen to be a little chubby?” she asked the girls.

  Hope filled their eyes as they nodded eagerly.

  K.O. scowled at Wynn. African brown-tailed mouse, indeed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thankfully, Wynn rescued poor Freddy, who was discovered shivering in a corner of the porch. The girls were relieved to have their hamster back, and neither mentioned the close call Freddy had encountered with certain death. After calming the twins, it took K.O. and Wynn an hour to clean up the living room. By then, they were both cranky and tired.

  Saturday morning, Zoe and Zara decided on wieners for breakfast. Knowing Wynn would approve, K.O. cooked the hot dogs he’d purchased the night before. However, the unaccustomed meat didn’t settle well in Zoe’s tummy and she threw up on her breakfast plate. Zara insisted that all she wanted was orange juice poured over dry cereal. So that was what she got.

  For the rest of the morning, Wynn remained pensive and remote. He helped her with the children but didn’t want to talk. In fact, he seemed more than eager to get back to Blossom Street. When Zelda and Zach showed up that afternoon, he couldn’t quite hide his relief. The twins hugged K.O. goodbye and Wynn, too.

  While Wynn loaded the car, K.O. talked to Zelda about holiday plans. Zelda asked her to join the family for Christmas Eve dinner and church, but not Christmas Day, which they’d be spending with Zach’s parents. K.O. didn’t mind. She’d invite LaVonne to dinner at her place. Maybe she’d include Wynn and his father, too, despite the disastrous conclusion of the last social event she’d hosted for this same group. Still, when she had the chance, she’d discuss it with Wynn.

  On the drive home, Wynn seemed especially quiet.

  “The girls are a handful, aren’t they?” she asked, hoping to start a conversation.

  He nodded.

  She smiled to herself, remembering Wynn’s expression when Zoe announced that their hamster had escaped. Despite his reproachful silence, she laughed. “I promise not to mention that rare African brown-tailed mouse again, but I have to tell LaVonne.”

  “I never said it was rare.”

  “Oh, sorry, I thought you had.” One look told her Wynn wasn’t amused. “Come on, Wynn,” she said, as they merged with the freeway traffic. “You have to admit it was a little ridiculous.”

  He didn’t appear to be in the mood to admit anything. “Are you happy?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You proved your point, didn’t you?”

  So that was the problem. “If you’re referring to how the girls behaved then, yes, I suppose I did.”

  “You claimed that after your sister read my book, they changed into undisciplined hellions.”

  “Well...” Wasn’t it obvious? “They’re twins,” she said, trying to sound conciliatory, “and as such they’ve always needed a lot of
attention. Some of what happened on Friday evening might have happened without the influence of your child-rearing theories. Freddy would’ve escaped whether Zelda read your book or not.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny. Frankly, rushing to the store to buy hot dogs because that’s what the girls wanted for dinner is over the top, in my opinion. I feel it teaches them to expect that their every whim must be met.”

  “I beg to differ. My getting the dinner they wanted showed them that I cared about their likes and dislikes.”

  “Two hours of sitting on the floor playing Old Maid said the same thing,” she inserted.

  “I let you put them to bed even though they clearly weren’t ready for sleep.”

  “I beg to differ,” she said, a bit more forcefully than she’d intended. “Zoe and Zara were both yawning when they came out of the bath. I asked them if they wanted to go to bed.”

  “What you asked,” he said stiffly, “was if they were ready for bed.”

  “And the difference is?”

  “Two hours of storytime while they wore us both out.”

  “What would you have done?” she asked.

  His gaze didn’t waver from the road. “I would’ve allowed them to play quietly in their room until they’d tired themselves out.”

  Quietly? He had to be joking. Wynn seemed to have conveniently forgotten that during the short time they were on their own, Zoe and Zara had gotten into his overnight bag. Thanks to their creative use of his personal things, the goldfish now had a bluish tint. The two Yorkies were nearly hairless. She could argue that because the girls considered themselves free, they didn’t see anything wrong with opening his bag. The lack of boundaries created confusion and misunderstanding.

  “Twins are not the norm,” he challenged. “They encourage ill behavior in each other.”

  “However, before Zelda read your book, they were reasonably well-behaved children.”

  “Is that a fact?” He sounded as though he didn’t believe her.