Bella’s
Christmas Rescue
Jenny Hammerle
Cover design by Scott Hammerle
Cover Image and author photo by Terri Zollinger Photography, www.terrizollinger.com
Copyright © 2014 by Jenny Hammerle. All rights reserved.
Cover and interior design © 2014, Jenny Hammerle. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author. The only exception is brief quotations in professional reviews.
Bella’s Christmas Rescue is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination. The perspective, opinions, and worldview represented by this book are those of the author and are not intended to be a reflection or endorsement of anyone else’s views.
***
For the firemen and EMT of Firehouse 72
Thank you for your tireless, dedication to the safety of Celebration and
its surrounding communities.
Chapter One
The doorbell rang. Sarah jumped up off of her couch and ran to answer it. Marcia stood outside wearing a bright blue velour sweat suit and hot pink flip flops with the Brazilian flag embroidered on the strap.
“Hello, my friend.” She greeted in her thick Portuguese accent.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“I just came over to see what you’re packing for the trip.”
“I haven’t given it any thought. We’re still five days out.”
“You can’t leave these things until last minute. It will sneak up on you. You’ll freeze in Park City if you’re not prepared. I brought you something.”
She tossed a garment bag across the foot of the couch as she walked into Sarah’s bedroom and started rifling through her closet. Sarah picked up the garment bag and laid it across her arm carrying it into the bedroom. She set it on the bed and opened it.
“It’s beautiful.”
Sarah gazed admiringly at what she found inside. She spied a purple ski jacket through the opened zipper of the bag. It was exquisite and must have cost a fortune. She felt guilty accepting such lavish gifts but she knew culturally it would be offensive to refuse the gift. She pulled it free from the bag and tried it on for size. Like all the other gifts before it- it was a perfect fit- unless of course you included the Brazilian bikini from Rio which seemed to be missing several inches of fabric from its backside.
Marcia was a gift giver. It was her way. Sarah never asked any questions to clarify whether it was cultural or just an aspect of her personality. During their eight year friendship Sarah received dozens of dresses, mostly from Brazil, in addition to bathing suit cover-ups, skirts and purses. Marcia was a stylish dresser, although her style could be described as a bit flashier than Sarah’s girl-next-door threads. On her preschool teacher’s salary, Sarah just couldn’t afford to shop as often or as expensively as the other women in her high end community.
Sarah glanced over at Marcia who now rifled through her sweaters and pants in the trunk at the foot of her bed. She selected items and was beginning to pile them up on the bed in mountainous stacks.
“Where’s the suitcase?” She prompted.
“The suitcase?”
“Yes, the one you’ll be taking to Park City. We must be getting this done.”
Sarah knew better than to argue with her. She was excited and why wouldn’t she be? She’d been looking forward to this trip for twelve months. It was their annual girls’ trip. Marcia was a mother to five wonderful boys ranging in age from seventeen to five years old. Each year their trip offered her a much needed reprieve.
Another knock sounded at the door. Sarah walked down the hall of her small two bedroom condo to answer it. Their friend, Anastasiya, stood outside. In one hand she held a can of Russian Beluga caviar and in the other a bottle of Vodka and a jar of pickles.
“Is it too early for a drink and some caviar?”
“Why not? What are we celebrating?”
“Finding you a man.”
“Good luck with that.” Sarah laughed.
They paraded down the hallway and back to Sarah’s bedroom where the uber efficient Marcia had nearly finished packing her bag. She zipped it shut as they walked in.
“What’s in there?”
Sarah could see a pile of culled clothes on her bed ready to topple. If all of those were still there in a heap on her bed- what could possibly be in the suitcase?
“Not much. I’m giving you a makeover. Anastasiya is going to help too.”
“Wow. Sounds fantastic.”
While Sarah smiled through gritted teeth, her inner thoughts ran wild and her true assessment of the impending makeover was that it sounded a little less than fantastic. She liked her girl-next-door look. A t-shirt and a pair of worn out jeans, combined with just the right pair of sneakers, felt right to her. Her international friends, with their amazing sense of style, constantly teased her about her understated wardrobe. Of course they’d present their age old arguments on the matter and plead their case. If she wanted to attract the right kind of man she needed to vamp her style up a little. Sarah wasn’t so sure. She wanted a man who wanted her for her. The real her- old jean shorts and flip flops. A guy who liked to jog, bike and go for the occasional hike. She wasn’t talking granola here- just down to earth and fun loving. He was out there. She just knew it.
When her doorbell chimed again she knew it was a conspiracy. Chelsea and MaryAnn were standing outside. She cast them the save me glance.
“So you’ve already heard about the shopping adventure. Now before you protest hear us out. You can choose whatever you want- we’re not trying to change your style- just trying to bring you into the new millennium is all.”
“Okay. If you guys say so.”
“We insist. Our treat.”
Anastasiya walked out and put the Vodka in the freezer.
“That is for later. By the way things are going so far I think we will be needing it. Are we ready ladies?”
“Yes!” They cheered.
“Okeydokey.” Sarah mumbled.
Sarah patted Bella’s head and locked the door behind her. If she read Bella’s stare correctly the dog’s pitiful gaze could be translated as ‘You’re going to survive this mom. Get tough.’
Or maybe it was ‘You’re going to hate this mom. Tough luck.’ It was times like these she wished her black lab could truly speak. Sarah was sure if she could- she’d take her side.
At the nearest mall nearly half an hour away, Sarah was led through store after store. She tried torn jeans and shorts not meant for anyone over the age of perhaps ten- or maybe sixteen. Either way that excluded Sarah.
Sarah was chilly just wearing them in the air conditioned fitting room. It was snowing where they were going. What would she need new shorts for anyhow? She amused her friends and didn’t complain. In the end she opted for two new sensible pairs of jeans minus the rips and several V-neck cotton long-sleeved shirts. After a protest from the Brazilian, she also added three new pairs of shorts that accented her long, gorgeous legs according to Marcia.
“The word is accentuated- not accented.” Chelsea chimed in from somewhere behind her.
“It does add an accent- you know a touch of youth.” Marcia defended her choice in words.
“Chelsea’s right. It is accentuated- not accented. You speak with an accent.” Anastasiya explained.
“So do you.” Marcia argued.
/>
“Okay. We all speak with an accent. You are both right. The pants look great but I don’t think they’re her style no matter how much we like them.” MaryAnn, the sensible one, intervened.
Of course MaryAnn was correct. In the end Sarah selected the pair from the ladies section and not the ones in the juniors department Marcia first handpicked for her.
Next they were on to shoe shopping. Immediately Sarah was drawn to the flats, but her friends had other ideas- namely stilettos in various styles and colors. Sarah was rather tall and found stilettos only made her taller. She humored them and figured it couldn’t hurt to start wearing heels after thirty plus years in flats. Maybe thirty years was a bit of a stretch, though if she’d had her way as a toddler she would’ve worn flats or sneakers.
Learning to walk in the high heeled shoes would be difficult. She’d tried it a time or two in the past but always fell back on what was comfortable, in the end purchasing flats. Two hours and four new pairs of ankle breaking pumps later, she finally felt finished with the shopping ordeal but soon learned she wasn’t.
A new hairdo was next on the agenda. Of course she turned down the highlights that would have made her more blonde than brunette, but she agreed to the sweeping bangs and long layers. In the end she realized she liked the new look much more than she thought she would. Her long, one length hair needed a change and was beginning to resemble Woodstock hippy minus the braid. Her new look was more mature and flattering to her long face. She decided she actually liked it.
Hours later she climbed her stairs exhausted from her grueling five hour shopping extravaganza. Where did they find the energy? They all followed her in and Anastasiya fixed them all a drink, caviar and buttered toast triangles with capers. They talked for an hour about their ski trip. The four other women were married and in various stages of having children. Marcia had the herd of boys; Anastasiya was a mother to two little girls, while Chelsea had a fifteen month old baby and MaryAnn no children at all. She wanted children but it was taking a little longer than expected for them to be blessed with any.
Sarah was the only one who still found herself single. She didn’t have any sad tale of love lost- it just hadn’t happened yet. Sure she dated but she seemed to attract the less than desirable mate. Most men who approached her were either older than her father or so immature she’d feel like she was dating one of her nineteen year old brother’s friends.
Sitting here with her friends discussing their husbands made her long for the same thing. Maybe she was too picky. Was it too much to ask for a guy who shared her religious beliefs and had a strong work ethic?
She’d met one guy at church a few years ago. He seemed perfect. Then on the third date she discovered his flaw. The fatal flaw. He still lived at home with Mom and Dad. The worst part was he’d never held a job! He spent his days driving to the beach to catch some waves. Sure she liked laid back, but lazy was an entirely different story. At thirty-six the warning signs of that one were too much to be ignored. So on date number three when he announced his father had been a stay-at-home Dad and he was looking for a woman who wanted the same, Sarah decided there were three strikes too many.
She was not opposed to working. She’d held a job since she was sixteen, however she preferred a more traditional role. She wanted to stay home with the kids and be there for every up and down of their daily lives. Not take care of some Mama’s boy who’d never left home, never held a job and wanted a woman to take care of him!
Sarah sat quietly nibbling her toast and caviar. She ran through all of her first dates. There were too many to count. Was it twenty-six or twenty-seven? The sad part about it was those were the ones who didn’t make it past the first date. Then there were a whole slew of men who made it to date two only to be eliminated. Sarah zoned out imagining herself as the next bachelorette.
Bad idea. Seriously bad idea.
“Are we boring you, my friend?” Marcia asked from the other sofa across the room. All four sets of eyes were staring at Sarah.
“No. Of course not. I had a long week. The toddler room at work was understaffed and they put me in there to cover. A dozen toddlers even with two teachers is exhausting. I’m sorry.”
Everyone stood to leave.
“Well you better get rested! Try to catch a nap or two this weekend. We leave Thursday night.” MaryAnn warned.
“Oh, don’t worry- I will! Tomorrow after church I plan on sleeping the day away. I may even go get a pedicure. Not that anyone will see my toes in ski boots anyhow.”
“No, but you’ll feel good about yourself. That’s what matters.”
Chelsea jumped up and grabbed her purse signaling the others to leave as well. Sarah walked them to the door opening it.
“I had a wonderful time. It was such a nice surprise. Thank you.”
She hugged each of them goodnight and locked the door behind them. She went to her kitchen and steeped a cup of lemon ginger herbal tea. She replayed the day’s events over and over again. She crossed the living room to her bedroom.
A tear slipped down her cheek. Her friends meant well. She knew they did. They were worried about her. They told her so many times before, but her life was very different from theirs. They were all stay-at-home mothers, or wife as was the case for MaryAnn. Sarah worked full time with preschoolers. When she came home she smelled of chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese. The last thing on her mind was going out and meeting someone. By the time her weekends rolled around, she fit in some much needed exercise with Bella, a trip to the grocery store, three loads of laundry and an outing with her grandmother after church on Sundays.
Her grandmother, Rita, lived just a few doors down in her condo building. Her parents moved her to Florida for the change in climate hoping the warmth would be good for her arthritis. It turns out it was but the increased distance proved a challenge. When Sarah suggested a move of her own, her parents offered to buy her a lakefront condo in Celebration if she agreed to check in on her grandmother. Sarah immediately took them up on the offer and moved to Celebration without hesitation.
She must have been the only tenant in her building under fifty-five. Sometimes it was nice. During the winter everyone was home all the time and therefore she was extra careful not to blare her stereo after dark or vacuum at odd hours. She certainly never threw parties. All-in-all her neighbors were wonderful and the quiet lifestyle suited her. The best part about it? They were mostly snow birds. They’d come to Florida in the winter months and head back up north around May leaving the pool and workout room to Sarah and her grandmother.
Rita was a hoot. Sarah glanced at her watch. It was after nine o’clock. She knew things were just getting going at the local American Legion. On Saturday nights grandma always went to the dance. She’d asked Sarah to go along a few times and she had. Rita’s friends were quite good dancers, but Sarah could tell Rita didn’t want her to cramp her style. She was a social one and she had more than a few suitors among the older gentlemen there. Sarah smiled to herself.
What’s wrong with this picture? My seventy-two year old granny is out dancing the night away with single men. What’s wrong with me?
No wonder they’re worried about me. Granny’s got a hotter social life than me!
Sarah looked down at Bella. She sighed and flopped onto her side.
“You’re right Bella. You’re absolutely right. Tomorrow we are going to start life anew. We’re going to put ourselves out there. Right after church.”
At dawn Sarah crawled out of bed and dressed for church. Her doorbell chimed just as she put the finishing touches on her new do and make-up.
“Coming Grandma.”
Sarah fumbled with the lock. Her Grandma rang the doorbell three more times. She finally got the deadbolt unlocked and opened the door.
“Rough night?”
Her grandmother eyed her skeptically.
“No. I think I need to have this lock replaced. It’s getting harder and harder to open. You?”
“I st
ayed out until two. That Robert danced my socks off. Such a wonderful dancer. We waltzed and jitterbugged. What a night.”
Sarah poured herself a large mug of coffee to go. What she wouldn’t give to have Grandma’s energy.
“Would you like a cup?” She offered.
“No. That stuff will kill you.”
“So you keep telling me.”
Sarah walked out to where Rita waited in the hall. By the time she locked the door her grandmother was already on the elevator holding the door open. While the church was only a short walk up the street she knew Grandma liked to be early. Rita called it her ‘alone time with Jesus’. On their way they passed a bagel shop. Sarah glanced at her watch and decided the bagel would have to wait until after church. Bella tugged on her leash, pulling Sarah every step of the way.
Her grandmother reached down and patted her head lovingly. Bella was hardly a well behaved lab. She was high energy and on a leash she was downright rambunctious. She barked at other dogs. She blazed ahead regardless of her owner’s speed. She was a goober of a dog, but Sarah loved her. Bella was still a puppy at two years old. Labs were in their puppy stage for quite an extended period of time. Sarah was just thankful she was house trained and had never been a chewer.
At church a teenaged boy, who earned his gas money as a dog walker on Sundays, met them on the sidewalk out front. He gladly took Bella, offering her a treat. Sarah watched them walk away. No pulling. No barking. If she behaved for this young teen, why wouldn’t Bella behave for Sarah? There must be some trick to it. Sarah needed to find out what it was.
Sarah and Rita walked into church and sat at the very front.
“The good seats.” Her grandmother always muttered under breath. “You have to come early to get these.”
Sarah sat down and placed her purse in the pew beside her. She knelt and folded her hands. She was thankful for this time every week with the Lord. She prayed for many things- Rita’s health, her father’s upcoming retirement, her own life, job and well-being. Today her prayers took a slightly different turn. She’d never specifically prayed for a man in her life. She’d never prayed for a helpmate or a partner. That was until this morning. This morning she decided it was time to get specific and she did just that.
Bella's Christmas Rescue: A Holiday Novella Page 1
