THE HAPPIEST SEASON
by
Rosemarie Naramore
The characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
THE HAPPIEST SEASON
© Copyright 2012 by Rosemarie Naramore
All rights reserved.
For Gloria Lusk.
You were truly an angel on earth,
and are now testing your new wings with our Father in heaven.
I miss you.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
“Mama!” Rickey shouted. “Come quick!”
“Honey,” Maggie Dulane said, struggling to keep her voice even, “I’m really busy. I have two dozen cookies to bake for the party tonight.”
“Really, Mama, you have to see this!”
Maggie glanced up from her place at the kitchen island. Her eyes lit on her five-year-old son’s dark head. She smiled. He had such a vivid imagination, forever calling her away from her chores to see something interesting or exciting, like a particularly large bug, or a cloud in the shape of a train. While she typically indulged his inquisitiveness, she just didn’t have the time right now.
“Mama, look at this!”
The little boy was standing at the back slider door, staring into the yard. It was dusk, freezing cold outside, and almost time to leave for a holiday party at her coworker’s home.
“Give me a minute, hon.”
Maggie dreaded the upcoming holiday party, but couldn’t bow out—as much as she wanted to. This party marked the first she would attend without her husband at her side. Shane had passed away two years before and socializing had been the last thing on Maggie’s mind since his untimely death. Unfortunately, she had to attend this party, since her coworker, Gloria, had refused to take ‘no’ for an answer. She just didn’t have the heart to disappoint her either.
Twenty years her senior, Gloria had quickly taken Maggie under her wing at work. After starting her job at the Employment Security Office, Maggie had soon learned that Gloria purchased holiday gifts for many of her coworkers’ children, organized birthday, anniversary, and holiday parties with the finesse of a longtime party planner, and donated her time and energy to a half-dozen charities. She was truly the kindest person Maggie had ever met—the personification of an office angel.
“Mama…” Rickey groaned, turning to catch her gaze.
“What is it, honey?”
“There’s a camel in our backyard.”
She chuckled. Her son was such a little jokester.
“No, really. Come look. For real,” he insisted.
“Honey, I really need to get these cookies done. I have to leave soon, and I haven’t had time to get myself ready—let alone finish baking these cookies.”
“You really need to see this camel,” he said drolly.
She laughed. “Just tell it ‘hello’ for me, but explain to it that we can’t let it stay back there. The yard is small and Pocomo really won’t appreciate having to share.”
As if on cue, the tiny Chihuahua came charging off the couch, where he’d been sleeping. He began howling at the top of his lungs.
“Pocomo, stop!” Rickey commanded. “You’ll scare the camel.”
“We definitely don’t want to scare the camel,” Maggie said with an indulgent smile. “I understand they can be testy if they’re frightened.” She cocked her head to the side, as if deep in thought. “Maybe you’d better not go outside after all. I don’t want you hanging around angry camels.”
Rickey gave a sigh. “You’re probably right. They’re really big close-up, aren’t they?”
“They’re pretty big,” she acknowledged, without looking up.
“Pocomo!” Rickey cried. “Mama! Pocomo ran outside!”
Maggie heard the tiny Chihuahua barking, the high-pitched sound piercing her ears. The little dog was definitely upset about something. And then she heard a sound unlike anything she had ever heard before—a low groan that morphed into a threatening, rumbling growl. The sound was deep, guttural, and unfamiliar—and loud. She glanced up, her brows furrowed in a frown.
“Rickey, what was that?” she asked with cautious alarm, as she reached for a dish towel and wiped her hands. She began moving toward the sliding door.
“Pocomo! Watch out!” Rickey screamed in horror. “Mama, the camel is trying to step on Pocomo!”
Maggie dashed to the open door and looked out into the night. Suddenly, a large camel face loomed in front of her startled one. She instinctively pulled back, grabbing Rickey by the shoulder and shoving him safely behind her. “There’s a camel in our backyard!” she shrieked.
Rickey gave her a frustrated glance. “I told you so!”
Maggie spun around, unsure what to do. “There’s a camel in our yard,” she muttered, now spinning like a top.
“Mama, he’s going to step on Pocomo!”
Her son’s voice penetrated. If something happened to that little dog…
“Okay, okay,” she said, striving to calm herself, but still unsure what to do. “Uh, we’ll get Pocomo first, and then we’ll call…” She gave a shrug. “Animal control?”
Rickey shrugged. “Camel control?”
“Pocomo!” she yelled. “Come!” He failed to comply, but then, what else was new? He never came when called.
“Pocomo!” she persisted. To her utter and complete amazement, the little dog charged into the house.
“I don’t think he’s ever seen a camel before,” Rickey commented reasonably. “It probably scared him a little bit.”
“I think you’re right,” Maggie said, and hurriedly slid the door closed.
The instant the door slid into place, a big wad of camel spit pinged off the glass. “Oooh, gross!” Rickey cried. “It spitted at you, Mama!”
“It spit,” she corrected him.
“That’s not very polite,” he said, making a face at the camel.
Darkness was rapidly descending, and they no longer had a clear view of the gargantuan animal. Maggie flipped on an outdoor light and immediately saw the camel’s large face pressed against the glass. Its massive nostrils flared, leaving puffs of condensation on the door.
“I think it wants in,” Rickey said. “Should we let it in?”
“No! Under no circumstances are you to let the camel inside,” she said, and began spinning again, still uncertain what to do.
“Mama, maybe it’s hungry. Should I give it a cookie?”
“Uh, no. Please don’t feed the camel.” She took a shoring breath, as if centering herself. “Okay, what to do about the camel…?” she uttered, and then perked up. “I’ll call the police. That’s what I’ll do.”
“Are you sure you shouldn’t call the fire department? They get cats out of trees. Maybe they’ll get the camel out of our backyard.”
Maggie paused, considering the suggestion. “You could be right, son. Huh? Firefighter or police officer?” she said, holding out her hands palms-up, as if weighing her choices. She finally blew out a breath. “I think I’ll call the police. They can call for firefighters, if need be.”
Rickey gave a shrug. “Okay.�
�
Maggie reached for the phone and was about to dial 911, but paused. Did a camel in her backyard qualify as an emergency?
Yep.
She dialed, and a female voice answered. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“Uh, well, it seems that I, uh…”
“Yes? Go on, please.”
“I have a camel in my backyard.”
There was a pause at the end of the phone line, followed by an impatient sigh. “Ma’am, this line is for emergency calls only. I must tell you we don’t appreciate crank calls and that we do have your address and phone number on record. If you continue to...”
Suddenly, a huge, resounding boom rocked the back wall of the house. The whole structure seemed to shudder.
“Mama!” Rickey screamed. “The camel just kicked the side of our house!”
“Boom!” the sound came again.
“It did it again!” Rickey wailed. “Why is it doing that? If it kicks the glass…”
“Send the POLICE!” Maggie cried into the receiver, and hung up the phone, just as the camel kicked the wall again. The whole back of the house was rocked by the force of the blow. A picture fell off a kitchen wall, and a small plate fell over the edge of the island and hit the floor, breaking into several pieces. Maggie barely registered the shards of glass, until Rickey moved a bit too close for comfort.
“Honey, don’t step on the broken glass,” she cautioned, as she moved to the sliding door and pulled back the curtain. She saw that the camel’s hind leg was dangerously close to the glass. As if sensing she was watching, it spun around. If camels were capable of looking angry, this one was definitely miffed. It lowered its head and appeared to make eye contact with her. Its nostrils flared again, making it look even more menacing.
“What does it want?” Maggie wondered aloud, and then let out a scream when it turned again and gave another swift kick that landed precariously close to the glass.
“Stop!” she cried, and then dashed into the kitchen. She hurriedly opened the window above the kitchen sink. “Here, camel, camel, camel,” she called.
Rickey ran to the sliding door. “Mama, it’s going over to you!”
“Okay, okay, good,” she said, spinning around again. Her eyes lit on one batch of cookies cooling on a wire rack. She grabbed up a handful and tossed them out the window and into the yard. The camel lumbered after them and gobbled them up.
“I told you it was hungry,” Rickey said, giving her a frustrated glance. “I guess next time I tell you there’s a hungry camel in the backyard, you’ll listen.”
“I will definitely listen,” she agreed distractedly, and then let out a shriek when the camel’s head suddenly jutted through the open kitchen window.
“It wants another cookie, Mama!”
“Oh, okay.” She gathered a handful and tossed them just over its head. It disappeared for a moment, but soon returned, jamming its head through the open window again. It strained to reach the cookies. “Oh, good grief,” Maggie said, running a hand through her hair.
Suddenly, Rickey appeared and pushed a large candy cane into its mouth. Maggie was certain the camel actually smiled in gratitude. Its lips pulled back, exposing the striped candy cane in its huge teeth. It began chomping at the candy, seemingly delighting in the sugary treat.
It was still working on the candy cane when the doorbell rang. Rickey ran to answer the door. Maggie was at his heels as he flung it open.
A tall, dark police officer stood at the door, his expression anything but friendly. His brows were drawn low over his dark eyes, his mouth set in a pursed line. “I’m…” he began, but Rickey interrupted him.
“There’s a camel in our backyard!” he shouted at the police officer. “And it likes cookies and candy canes!” He spun on his heel and ran toward the kitchen, calling out a cheerful, “Come on! You really have to see this!”
The officer gave Maggie a glance, seeming to size her up. “Ma’am, I have to tell you, I have more important things to do with my time than respond to crank calls…”
She didn’t appreciate the reproving note to his voice, but she understood his skepticism. “I don’t make crank calls, Officer,” she said patiently. “I’m afraid there is a camel in my backyard.”
He watched her, a dubious expression on his handsome face. His striking brown eyes regarded her as if she were a few bricks short of a load. She really couldn’t blame him. She doubted he received many calls of camels turning up in residential neighborhoods.
Suddenly, the whole house seemed to shudder, in conjunction with another loud boom. “Oh, no! He’s kicking the house again!” she cried.
“What was … that?” the officer asked, instinctively resting a hand on the back strap of his holstered pistol.
“Follow me,” she said tiredly.
When she reached the kitchen, she found her son hand feeding cookies to the camel. It had had apparently polished off the large candy cane. “Rickey, don’t feed it all of them!”
The officer, who had followed her, came to an abrupt stop and gasped in surprise. He couldn’t miss the big-headed camel, presently struggling to shove its shoulders through the open window, in order to gain access to the remaining holiday treats in the little boy’s hands.
The officer turned to Maggie, aiming a limp finger at the beast. “There’s a…”
“I know,” she said, nodding her head up and down in measured intervals, as she folded her arms across her chest. “What are you going to do about it?”
***
“Uh, ma’am,” the officer said, “the camel is no longer in your backyard.”
Maggie heaved a sigh of relief. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
He gave her a rueful glance. “Sorry for…”
“Accusing me of making crank calls,” she said, chuckling. “I would have thought the same thing,” she admitted.
He pulled a notepad from his pocket. “I’ll need to write up a brief incident report.”
“Mama! The camel’s gone,” Rickey cried, bouncing into the foyer, where Maggie and the officer were currently standing. “It was a boy camel. He really didn’t want to leave, but a man came and called to him, and…” He gave a shrug. “The camel went with him—like he knew him or something.” He gave a sigh. “I’ll miss him.” He suddenly perked up. “Can I have a camel for Christmas?”
“May I have a camel for Christmas?” Maggie corrected.
“Yeah. May I?”
“Absolutely not,” Maggie said, smiling at her exuberant son.
The officer stood silently by, listening to the exchange between mother and son. He quirked a smile, which didn’t go unnoticed by Maggie. He was really handsome when he smiled, his well-formed lips curving up at the corners and exposing perfectly even teeth. His nose was straight, his eyes heavily lashed and currently sparkling with humor.
He cleared his throat. “It seems your camel is part of a live nativity scene that went on display recently in an open field beside the church, just around the corner,” he informed. “I understand the folks at the church bring the animals in the day after Thanksgiving. The animals’ owner had already discovered the camel was MIA, and apparently called into the station fifteen or so minutes after your call.”
Maggie nodded. She’d heard about the live nativity, and had intended to take Rickey by to see it soon.
“About that report…” he prompted.
“Oh, sure. Will you follow me into the family room? We’ll be more comfortable there.”
He nodded and she directed him into the cozy space, which adjoined the kitchen. She gestured toward a blue-striped chair and he sat down.
“Name?” he said.
“Maggie. Maggie Dulane,” she told him.
He made a note on the pad, and then quirked a quick grin. “I’m John Dutch. I have to write a brief summary of the call…” He shook his head. “The guys at the station are going to get a kick out of this.”
She conceded the point
with a chuckle, and then gave him a concise detailing of the evening’s events, to the point at which he’d arrived.
“Thanks,” he said, when she’d finished.
“Thank you again for your help. I don’t know what I would have done if you
hadn’t shown up.”
“It’s fortunate it’s a relatively quiet night, or I may not have. I was actually coming by to scold you for calling in a false report,” he admitted.
She nodded, digesting his words. “Well, lucky for me, it was a slow night.”
Rickey suddenly dashed over to the officer, his eyes bright with excitement. “Did you see where the camel spitted on our back door? It was really gross!”
John laughed. “I bet it was. Just think, though—when you get back to school Monday, you’ll have quite a story to tell your friends.”
Rickey nodded his head, but then frowned. “They probably won’t believe me about the camel.” He turned to his mother. “Mama, we should have taken a picture.”
“I’m afraid in all the commotion, that didn’t cross my mind,” she said, smiling apologetically. “I was more worried about getting him out of the yard, so he’d stop trying to kick in the back of our house.”
Rickey’s shoulders drooped.
“Hey, no worries, Rickey,” John said, pulling out a small digital camera from his pocket. “I took several pictures of the camel.” He turned toward Maggie. “I didn’t think my coworkers would believe me either.”
“Could I have a picture of the camel?” Rickey asked shyly.
John nodded. “Sure. I’ll print one up and drop it by…”
“Soon!” Rickey cried. “I want to take it to school on Monday.”
John gave Maggie a tentative glance. “May I drop the picture by … tomorrow?”
“That would be fine. Thank you,” she said gratefully. She knew Rickey would cherish a photo of their surprise guest.
He caught her gaze, his eyes twinkling. “Well, uh, don’t hesitate to call if another camel happens to show up.”
She gave him an alarmed glance. “By the way, how did it get into my backyard? There’s a gate out back, but it was closed and latched.”
The Happiest Season Page 1
