by Donna Ball
Finally I got up the courage to ask her the big question. “Did you really work for the CIA?”
Her laugh was light and musical and took me back, across the miles, to all the good times and good stories we had shared together. “Now, honey, you’re just going to have to watch my movie, aren’t you? You give that sweet Cisco a hug, you hear? And have a merry Christmas.”
I was beginning to think I would.
The crew that Miles loaned me did not completely get my building finished before Christmas, but almost. The indoor runs were completed, the training room needed only paint, and the grooming room was lacking only the tubs. Cisco's big Christmas present—the one I could not wait to try out—was the new indoor agility training ring, complete with recycled rubber flooring and brand new, state-of-the-art, solid-steel agility equipment. Beginning first thing Christmas morning, Cisco and I were going to start training for the national championship. After all, if I could discover a fortune in a fifty-year-old box of shoes, anything was possible.
In my new, bright yellow and primary blue office—two of the easiest colors for dogs to see, by the way—there was a framed vintage postcard of Lassie doing her famous wave. All of the other post cards had gone into the safety deposit box with my mother’s jewelry and awaited appraisal.
On Christmas Eve morning, Miles and Melanie stopped by for brunch on their way to Myrtle Beach. Aunt Mart had dropped off Majesty the night before, and she greeted the company in a red velvet, jingle bell collar with her classic bouncing collie bark. Melanie placed a huge, cellophane wrapped basket filled with dog toys, dog biscuits and gourmet dog cookies underneath the Christmas tree, and told me how she had hand-picked each treat from the pet store in Asheville. All of the dogs, of course, fixated upon the basket, which made her giggle with delight. The best thing about my dogs is that they know how to appreciate a gift when it’s offered.
She had chosen a darling little gift pack of red-and-white plush toys for the orphaned puppy that even I had begun to call Pepper. It was hard to see the disappointment on Melanie’s face when she ran to the kitchen only to see that the ex-pen—and the puppy—were gone, but when I explained to her that the puppy had found a new home with a great family, she took it bravely. “Maybe I can mail this to her,” she said, gazing down sadly at the gaily wrapped Christmas package. I assured her that she could, and she made an effort to pretend that was okay.
“I guess I’ll be having a new home too,” she added with exaggerated casualness, and I met Miles’s eyes over her head with a smile in my own. “Right after Christmas, I’m going to start looking at schools in Atlanta. So these new people, do they have a fenced yard?”
I promised her they did.
“Who’s their vet?”
I told her they weren’t from around here.
“But they signed her up for puppy classes, right?”
“Oh, yes, I made sure of that. Do you want to help me slice this fruit?”
Miles of course wanted to inspect the work on the kennel and came back with a punch list that was even longer than the original work order. “Be sure they come back and touch up the paint when they fix that trim,” he told me. “Fast work doesn’t excuse sloppy work. You’re paying for the finished job. Make sure it’s done right before you sign that check.”
I gave him a look of exaggerated forbearance. “That’s right,” I told him. “I’m paying for it.”
He grinned. “Boundaries, right?”
“Right.”
Miles is usually the cook when we get together, for obvious reasons, but I wanted a chance to show off, and even he had to admit my pancakes were delicious. Both he and Melanie had seconds. “So now we know you can cook breakfast,” he said, eyes twinkling. “We have to find some way to take advantage of that.”
I settled back in my chair, cradling my coffee cup against my chest, smiling at him in an extraordinarily silly way. “You’re in an awfully good mood.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? It’s Christmas. Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come to the beach with us?”
“Don’t be silly, Miles. I have the dogs.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Melanie chimed in, “she can’t leave the dogs.” Then she said, “These people, where do they live?”
For a moment I didn’t know what she was talking about. I was still looking at Miles, and fantasizing, however absurdly, about the beach. I said, “Um… somewhere outside of Atlanta I think.”
Her eyes lit up. “Maybe I could do a follow-up visit for you! I’m good at filling out reports.” Her expression became tinged with anxiety. “I mean, if you think I should. If that would be okay.”
I met Miles’s eyes across the table. Mine were saying, I’m crazy about this kid. I don’t know what his were saying. I’m not that good at reading men. But whatever it was, it gave me a funny, happy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I turned to Melanie, smiling. “That sounds great, Melanie.”
Melanie looked pleased, and turned to her father. “You know, Dad,” she said seriously, “I've been thinking I might have a career in law enforcement. Maybe training drug dogs.”
Miles said, “I think you'd probably be great at that. However, I want to go on record as saying I do not support any career that puts my daughter in the line of gunfire.”
Melanie sipped her juice and considered that. “I don't think dog trainers get shot at much.”
Boy, did I have a few stories to relate on that subject. But for once I kept my mouth shut, and I studiously avoided Miles's gaze.
Miles wasn't fooled though. “I read the article in the paper yesterday,” he said. “It didn't say anything about charging the owner of the tree farm.”
“That's the weird thing,” I said. “The meth lab wasn't on Walt's property, and Uncle Roe says he didn't have any idea what was going on in that trailer. Apparently Dusty—and Nick, for that matter—could drive up to it on a dirt road from the highway.”
“Hmm.” He sipped his coffee. “It also said that that the hostages were held at knifepoint. I don't think you mentioned that.”
I widened my eyes innocently. “Didn't I?”
He looked as though he wanted to say more, but Melanie interrupted with, “Can the dogs open their present now?”
Miles looked at me steadily for another moment then surprised me. “I think that’s a great idea,” he agreed, setting down his cup. “Let’s have presents.”
We left the breakfast dishes on the table and trooped to the living room with excited dog claws clicking on the wood floors behind us. The Christmas tree was alight with multi-colored lights, and four stockings, already plump with the treats people had been bringing by all week, hung over the fireplace. Miles stirred up the fire and while I folded back the protective fence from the tree and Melanie dragged out the big basket of treats. Absolute chaos ensued, of course, and Miles and I plopped ourselves down on the floor in the middle of it, laughing and brushing away swiping tails and wriggling furry bodies and slobbery kisses. Like any other pet owner, I reveled in seeing my dogs happy, and Christmas was a once-a-year celebration, so I allowed them to gobble far more dog cookies than was probably wise. Eventually, though, I had to call an end to the bacchanal and confiscate the Basket of Endless Dog Treats. I allowed Melanie to pick one toy for each dog and laughed until my face hurt, watching them roll and dash and dart and play bow and toss their toys in the air.
“Good job, Melanie,” I declared. “You are now officially the best dog-Christmas-present-giver ever.”
She glowed under my praise and chose a peanut butter flavored ball to toss for Majesty. She laughed out loud when Majesty caught it in midair.
Miles, watching his daughter, didn’t seem to be able to stop smiling. Then he surprised me by reaching under the Christmas tree and bringing out a medium-sized flat box wrapped in gold foil with a big silvery-blue bow. “Merry Christmas,” he said, and handed it to me.
Now, I have to say, no one loves presents more than I do—except, perhaps, Cisco. But I too
k the gift with a mixture of excitement and dismay. “Miles,” I said, “we had an agreement. We weren’t going to exchange gifts.”
He shrugged. “I have trouble with boundaries.”
He sat with his arm propped up on one upraised knee and his index finger partially obscuring his mouth, but his eyes were brimming with quiet amusement. I had to grin back. “You’re incorrigible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Melanie stopped tossing the ball and watched me as I unwrapped the gift. I was more than a little excited as I peeled away the foil and opened the box. “Oh,” I said, staring at the contents. “It’s a phone.”
“Not just any phone,” Miles pointed out. “The very latest in smartphone technology. It’s got a camera with video chat, a GPS, and a satellite sim chip that will allow you to call anywhere in the world. All powered up and ready to use.” He added, “My number is programmed in. Number one.”
Melanie added, “Mine is number two. I got one just like it.”
I had to smile. “Thanks. It’s really great.” I removed the device carefully from its foam holder. “Really…useful.”
“You don’t like it,” Miles said. I could see he was trying to feign disappointment. “I should have gone with the fruit-of-the-month.”
“I told you she wouldn’t,” Melanie said. “Girls like romantic things. And she's a girl.”
“No, really,” I said. “It’s great, really. It’s just…”
“Too expensive?” suggested Miles. “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go with my first impulse, then.” I could see Melanie’s eyes, bright and eager with a secret, watching as he reached into his pocket and brought out a small, distinctive blue box. He offered it to me, palm up. “Jewelry.”
My breath actually stopped. I’d never had anything from Tiffany’s, not ever. I took the box from him and opened it reverently. Inside was a pair of sterling silver, bone-shaped earrings, each one studded with a small diamond.
I squealed out loud with delight and Melanie clapped her hands, laughing. Miles’s eyes danced. I wanted to fling myself into his lap and kiss him hard on the mouth, but, aware of the presence of children and dogs, I managed to restrain myself. I couldn’t stop beaming, though, as I put on the earrings, gave my head a little toss, and said, “Good choice. You’ve got real possibilities, you know that?”
He inclined his head modestly toward Melanie. “Thank you. But I had expert advice.”
She grinned at him and held her hand up for a high five. He slapped her hand, and I laughed, reaching under the tree for another small package. “Okay, my turn,” I said. I presented the package to Melanie. “Just a little something to thank you for all your help,” I said casually. “You know, with the puppies.”
Miles rose and quietly left the room. I watched, barely able to contain my excitement, as Melanie unwrapped the package and opened the box. Her expression turned to absolute bewilderment as she gazed at the contents. Inside, nestled on a bed of cotton batting, was a peppermint-striped collar and leash.
Behind her, Miles said, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” He set the small fuzzy puppy on the floor.
Melanie gasped, “Pepper!”
The puppy, who had been patiently waiting in my newly decorated kennel office, raced to her, comically clumsy as it slipped and slid on the hardwood floor. I had even fastened a red-and-white-striped bow around her neck, which I was glad to see was not too much the worse for wear. Melanie tumbled toward her puppy, and I have to admit I wiped moisture from my eyes as I watched the reunion. She swept the puppy up and covered it with kisses and the puppy reciprocated, and then my dogs had to get in on the act, milling around and mugging for attention until I called them back to my side with fresh treats from their holiday basket.
I stood beside Miles and we watched as Melanie fitted the pup with her new collar and leash. Her face was radiant. “Good decision,” I murmured.
He tried to look nonchalant, but I could tell his daughter’s pleasure thrilled him as much as it did me. “You’re probably right,” he said, “It will help with the adjustment. Of course…” And he looked at me darkly, “you know who’s going to get stuck taking care of it while she’s in school.”
“It will build character,” I told him.
Melanie suddenly rushed to him and flung her arms around his knees. “Dad, thank you, thank you! I love you so much! It’s the best Christmas ever!”
Miles knelt down and hugged his daughter and the puppy jumped up on both of them, as though she wanted to share in the embrace. This time, I was pushing wetness from my eyes with both hands.
“Okay, sweetie,” Miles said, giving her a kiss. “Take the pup outside for a walk before we get in the car. It’s a long ride to Grandma’s.”
Melanie hurried outside with the puppy, and I helped Miles gather up all the equipment they would need for the trip—the travel crate, premium puppy food, dishes, portable play pen and chew toys that he had ordered online and had delivered to the kennel address so that Melanie wouldn’t suspect. “It’s worse than traveling with a baby,” he complained, looking at the pile beside the door.
I grinned. “Fortunately, you’re a good dad.”
A corner of his lips quirked dryly. “Remains to be seen.” Then he looked at me, and something in his eyes made my heart beat faster. “Thanks, Raine,” he said. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”
I said, “I wish you didn’t have to, either.” And I meant it.
Miles said, “I can find a place for you on the beach that would take dogs. There’s no point in being alone at Christmas.”
I smiled broadly and gestured toward the Christmas tree. A collie, a golden retriever, and two Australian shepherds were settled around it in an eerily accurate reproduction of the dogs in my porcelain Nativity scene, contentedly munching their bones. Four velvet stockings were overflowing. And tomorrow Cisco and I began training in our brand new agility room.
I said simply, "I'm not going to be alone."
His eyes softened, and he seemed to understand. “Melanie gets a school holiday in a few weeks. We’ll be back.”
I had to smile. “Look at you, counting school holidays already.”
He just stood there, smiling back.
Then he turned and started to pull on his coat. “Well, I guess we’d better get started if we want to get there before dark. If I have to stop every two hours to let the puppy out the drive is going to take twice as long. I’ll call you tonight. Meanwhile …”
“Hey, dummy,” I said.
He turned and looked at me.
I said, "I chose one."
I stood underneath the arch of the foyer, and when I cast my eyes meaningfully upward toward the mistletoe that hung overhead the puzzlement on his face faded into a slow and confident smile. He slipped his coat off his arms and tossed it aside. He came toward me, holding my eyes. He stood close. He drew me into his arms. He smelled wonderful.
And then he kissed me.
Oh, my. Best Christmas ever.
_______
Other Books in the Raine Stockton Dog Mystery Series
SMOKY MOUNTAIN TRACKS
A child has been kidnapped and abandoned in the mountain wilderness. Her only hope is Raine Stockton and her young, untried tracking dog Cisco...
RAPID FIRE
Raine and Cisco are brought in by the FBI to track a terrorist …a terrorist who just happens to be Raine’s old boyfriend.
GUN SHY
Raine rescues a traumatized service dog, and soon begins to suspect he is the only witness to a murder.
BONE YARD
Cisco digs up human remains in Raine’s back yard, and mayhem ensues. Could this be evidence of a serial killer, a long-unsolved mass murder, or something even more sinister… and closer to home?
Learn more about Donna and her dogs at http://www.dogdazejournal.blogspot.com
More by This Author
RENEGADE by Donna Boyd
The Long- Awaited Third Installment in
the Devoncroix Dynasty
Emory Hilliford, a quiet anthropology professor, is drugged, held captive and interrogated by a mysterious stranger who wants only one thing: the truth about an ancient race of beings known as the lupinotuum, half man/half wolf, who have walked among humans for centuries. Once they ruled the tundra, now they rule Wall Street. Once they fought with teeth and claws, now they fight with wealth and power. And Emory Hilliford, an orphan who was raised by a family of sophisticated, influential lupinotuum in twentieth century Venice, is uniquely positioned to chronicle their culture, their history, and their secrets.
Unknown to all but a select few, Emory has also been carefully groomed to play a crucial role in history, one that could have deadly consequences for his own race, and theirs. Now forced to tell his story, Emory must decide how much of the truth he can afford to reveal, and what secrets he will take to his grave… because his own time is running out.
From the ancient legends of Greece and Rome to the mysteries of the Dark Ages and the glitter of modern day New York, RENEGADE is a sweeping saga of passion and betrayal, sacrifice and destiny, that will consume your days and haunt your nights long after the last page is turned.
Heart-pounding suspense by Donna Ball
NIGHT FLIGHT
She’s an innocent woman who knows too much. Now she’s fleeing through the night without a weapon and without a phone, and her only hope for survival is a cop who’s willing to risk his badge—and his life—to save her.
SANCTUARY
They came to the peaceful, untouched mountain wilderness of Eastern Tennessee seeking an escape from the madness of modern life. But when they built their luxury homes in the heart of virgin forest they did not realize that something was there before them… something ancient and horrible; something that will make them believe that monsters are real.
