by Jean Little
“What for?”
“You’ll see. It’s a surprise. Get a move on.”
Min raced into her room and dressed like a fireman called to a four-alarm fire. She had no warm pants, just jeans, but she put on two sweatshirts and her heaviest socks. In ten minutes they were getting into the van. Jess put a saw and a hatchet on the floor in the back. Then they took off, heading out of town.
“Go ahead and ask,” Jess said.
“Ask what?” Min’s face was blank.
“Oh, well, if you aren’t curious, I won’t bother to explain why we will be needing a hatchet and a saw.”
Min choked. Her polite mask cracked and she grinned. “Why are we taking a saw and hatchet?” she asked meekly.
“We’ll need them to cut down our tree.”
A silence fell. Min turned in the seat to look at Jess. “What tree?”
“Christmas tree, of course, daftie. Start thinking what sort you want. I believe Mabel has lots of choice in her bush.”
“I don’t know anything about trees,” Min said.
“Well, I do. But this time, you get to pick. And you can take time to look them over before you decide which one will be just right for our house.”
Min found the incredible words echoing around and around inside her head. Our house. Just right for our house.
“You mean … it will be a real tree?” she asked, unable to take this in. They had had Christmas trees at each of her foster homes, but those she remembered had been fake ones that you unpacked and assembled.
“Certainly. Totally real trees. I have never had an artificial tree since I was old enough to choose.”
“Is that okay, cutting down real trees?”
“Where we’re going, it’s fine. The man who planted the trees at Mabel’s put them too close together. If some aren’t taken out, the lot of them will push into each other and grow too tall and spindly, trying to get more light. You’ll see.”
Min did not know what to say so she said nothing.
As they left the city behind, Jess said, “I have not warned you yet about the complications we are soon to face.”
Min waited, wordless. She felt dizzy with all the complications she had already encountered. What next? Jess wasn’t going to break her promise, was she? Min bit her lip and braced herself.
Jess grinned.
“You certainly are a restful girl,” she said. “No swarm of questions. No shrieking. But you look as though you are expecting a spoonful of castor oil. It isn’t that bad. You remember my godson Toby?”
Min nodded.
“Well, as I told you already, his mother called last night after you went to bed. I understand you saved Grace’s life yesterday. Laura told me about Grace’s close call, and a girl with a long braid catching her, and I figured the rest out for myself. I remembered you recognizing them in the picture.”
“I did grab her, but it wasn’t such a big deal,” Min said, staring down at her knees. “If I hadn’t, somebody else would have done it.” She felt her cheeks grow hot under Jess’s smiling glance.
“That’s not what Toby said. But your heroism was not what Laura phoned about. Last night, she had an S.O.S. call from her husband’s father, about the twins’ grandmother. The old lady went to the hospital after having a panic attack brought on by her angina. She’s home again but she feels sure she is about to die and she is begging to see her darling granddaughters one last time. Baxter — that’s Laura’s husband — is already on his way out there. I swear, that man is putty in her hands. So Laura and the girls are flying out to be there in time to open their Christmas gifts with Grandma.”
The sarcastic note in Jess’s voice confused Min.
“Don’t look at me that way, child. This is not the first time this woman has summoned Laura and her girls to her deathbed. So far, she always recovers miraculously the minute they get there. Then they have to stay for a proper visit, of course. I know I shouldn’t speak of her this way, but what makes me mad is the way she totally ignores Toby. I’m not quite as heartless as I sound.”
“No,” Min murmured. “You’re not heartless at all.”
Jess gave a crack of laughter.
“I don’t get it, though,” Min said. “Isn’t Toby her grandchild too?”
“No. He’s Laura’s first husband’s boy. She and Patrick were divorced when Toby was four. A couple of years later, she married Baxter and they soon had the adorable twins. Toby’s dad, Patrick, is a journalist. He roves from one trouble spot to another all over God’s earth. He was away and in danger too often to suit Laura. Baxter, on the other hand, is the head guy at a large insurance company and never goes anywhere except to conferences.”
“You don’t like him,” Min stated, and then wished she’d held her tongue. What was happening to her? She, the girl who barely spoke, was talking more every hour that passed.
“I don’t dislike him,” Jess said slowly, thinking it over. “He’s kind, and Laura no longer has money worries. He’s just a bit flat after Patrick. I like Patrick a lot. He was a close friend of my husband’s.”
Min waited to learn what the “complication” was, although she thought she could guess.
Jess read her thoughts. “Toby is the complication, of course. He’s not going to Saskatoon, so he’s coming to spend Christmas with us.”
“Oh,” was all Min could think of to say.
“Patrick is in Indonesia or Sri Lanka at the moment, I believe, but he’s due home on the twenty-seventh. So he’ll be with us too. Toby won’t mind missing a trip to Saskatoon. He doesn’t hit it off too well with his step-father, and it’s tricky for him when Patrick and Baxter are both around. Toby told me once that it was like walking a tightrope. They are very different and he is the son of both.”
They were now on a gravel side road. Then Jess turned off and went bumping up a farm lane. Min could see the woods over to their right. She stared at the trees. They were crowded close. She saw no clear spaces where you could walk among them with ease. Maybe Jess was right.
Yet, as they got closer, Min could see that in the woods the trees were alive and they had each other for company and all the bigness of the sky above them with its glory of stars at night and its scudding clouds and rainbows by day. It didn’t seem fair to chop one down and take it into a stuffy house and decorate it and then put it out with the garbage when the holiday was over.
“What’s worrying you, girl?” Jess demanded as she switched off the ignition.
“Nothing,” Min muttered.
“That is not true. But we’ll have to talk later. Mabel is at the door, waving to us.”
Min saw the woman standing in the open doorway, beckoning to them to come in. She was leaning on a cane.
“She told me she twisted her ankle,” Jess murmured, “but it doesn’t look too bad from here. At least she’s on her feet. I’ll have to sit with her for a bit, though, and hear the whole story. Mabel never skips even the smallest detail.”
Min shut the van door and then blurted out, “After we say hello, could I go for a walk until you’re done?”
Jess seemed to be studying Min’s face. Min knew it had gone blank again. She could hide behind that blankness. But should she stop hiding now? Maybe she should try to let Jess see what she felt. She did her best to smile.
Jess smiled back, patted Min’s shoulder, and said, “Good thinking. That’ll give Mabel and me time to have some coffee and cake. I’ll honk the horn when I’m ready for your help.”
Min felt a weight lift off her heart. No argument, no sarcastic remarks, no need to invent excuses.
She shook hands with Jess’s friend and let the doctor get her out of joining them inside. Then she turned and headed out across a snowy field. She had never been alone in a field of snow before, never been anywhere — except a park or someone’s yard — where there was not a sidewalk to walk on. She started leaping, making giant tracks. She stretched out her arms in all the space and whirled around in a dance, celebrating freedom.
Her braid swung out behind her and the wind sang in her ears. She felt her whole face shining. She clapped her hands above her head and kicked one leg out straight the way she had seen a Cossack dancer do on TV. Then she slipped and landed flat on her back. While she was down, giggling like a two-year-old, she remembered kids waving their arms and legs, making angels in the snow. She tried it. When she got up, being as careful as she could, the result did not look all that angelic, but she was pleased with the wings.
She tried making snowballs next but the snow was too dry to pack properly. Her jacket and jeans were damp from angel-making and she shivered. Trying to warm up, she set out walking as briskly as the snow would let her. Jess had lent her a pair of kids’ boots she had dug out of the back of a closet. They were fleece-lined, but a bit small — her pinched toes already felt like knobs of ice. Every so often she stood still and listened. But no horn called her back.
Then she came to a ruined outbuilding. It was a wreck. Only half the roof was on and the whole thing leaned sideways. It was too full of cracks to keep out much of the December blast, but she stepped inside, grateful for any shelter. Then, as she crouched over, hugging herself, she heard a whine she knew was not the wind.
Some other creature was in the shed with her.
She held her breath and peered around at the dusty wreck of what might have once been a cow barn. There was nothing alive there. There were only some weathered boards, a bucket that was badly dented, a cracked bowl and not much else. She must have been imagining things.
Then something moved.
Min gasped. Whatever it was was pressed tightly into the back corner and it was alive. She stared at it, shrinking with fear. It was some sort of small animal. Maybe a rat.
Maybe a rabid squirrel!
At that alarming thought, she sprang toward the opening she had come through, her breath coming fast and her heart pounding. Then, as she was about to flee back to Jess and safety, she heard the faint, desolate whimper again.
And, in the same instant, the car horn honked.
5
Throwaway Dog
MIN TOOK TO HER HEELS. She ran back the way she had come, sure something was chasing her. But long before she reached Jess’s van, she knew no rat or squirrel had made that small, hopeless sound.
Jess, the saw in her hand, stood waiting for her. As Min came close, panting, Jess began to stride across the open field next to the woods. She looked annoyed about something. Min opened her mouth to start to tell about the sound she had heard, but closed it again. She had better wait until they reached the trees and Jess halted. She needed to get her breath back. It was hard enough for her to explain something difficult, without huffing and puffing while she spoke.
“Sorry we took so long,” Jess threw over her shoulder.
Watching the back of Jess’s coat and noting the set of her shoulders, Min felt the woman was giving off sparks. She was mad about something, that was for sure.
But she, Min, had done nothing. Please, she prayed silently, let her get over it fast.
As they reached the edge of the trees, Jess halted, took a deep breath and started letting off steam.
“Mabel has family troubles she had to tell me about. Every detail! I don’t even know them. That woman can stretch a story out until you think you’ll go crazy. I told her you must be getting cold and I mentioned that Toby was coming before supper, but she ignored me and kept talking. I’m sorry.”
“Oh,” Min said feebly.
“Let’s go choose ourselves a tree before you turn into an icicle.”
Min was so worried about whatever had made that small, pitiful cry that she had forgotten they had come for a Christmas tree. Couldn’t Jess see she, Min, was worried? Desperate, she chose the first tree she saw without taking time to study it, let alone decide it was perfect. It was a white pine a head taller than Jess.
“Well done,” Jess said with a crooked smile. “White pines are my favourites too. They don’t bite the hand that decorates them.”
She was waiting for Min to smile back, but Min was not even looking at the tree as Jess bent to begin cutting it down. Instead, she stared into the distance, frantic with worry.
“Your turn.” Jess straightened and held out the saw. But Min stood like a post, making no move to take it.
“What on earth is the matter with you? Take the saw. You have to do your share of the work, miss,” Jessica Hart rasped.
Min jerked to attention and tried to obey. She had never used a saw before and had no idea how to put it to use. She did not do a good job. At last, finally, Jess gave a snort of disgust and took the saw back.
“I’ll finish,” she said. “Then you can put your back into dragging it up the hill. And you can tell me what’s got you in such a tizzy.”
Silently, Min helped push and drag the pine across the snow to the van. The two of them hoisted it in.
“Okay. Now, what’s upset you, Min? Something has. You are acting like a ninny.”
Min ignored the insult. “Please, come with me. I have to show you something,” she burst out through chattering teeth.
She longed to turn her back on the animal in the shed, but she knew if she didn’t get Jess to come and see what was wrong, the stricken creature would invade her dreams.
“But, Min —”
Min reached out with both hands and began to haul Jess along.
“Come,” she panted. “It doesn’t sound like a rat. Please, just COME!”
Jess had been holding back. The startling words, plus one look at Min’s face — usually so blank, now filled with terror and purpose — changed her mind abruptly. “All right. I’m coming,” she said, following.
She jogged at Min’s side until they reached the ramshackle shed.
“It’s in the back corner,” Min got out, her breathing ragged. “I don’t know what it is. But it whined. I … I couldn’t just go on home without knowing.”
Jess moved through the dusty wreck of what had once been a useful building. As she spotted the small heap of filthy fur, she slowed and stared hard. Then she knelt and, keeping her gloves on, reached out and drew the animal toward herself. It cried out and Min leaped back, her face twisted with fear and pity.
“Is … is it a rat?”
“No. It’s a dog. But she’s skin and bone. I think maybe she has had puppies. Oh, I don’t know. We’ll have to get her out of here and take her to Jack.”
“Who’s Jack?” Min asked.
“Maude’s veterinarian. In the van, between our seats, there’s a bag of things I was going to give to the church. In it, there’s a sweater someone gave me. I think there’s a shawl sort of thing too. Could you run back and get them? We’ll need something to wrap her in.”
Min was leaping back up the hill without stopping to say a word. She ran for all she was worth. The snow kept trying to trip her but she yanked her feet up like a high-stepping horse before it could make her actually fall. She snatched up the whole bag of stuff and, with it bumping against her, raced back. By the time she reached Jess she was panting heavily and puffing out great clouds of steam.
Jess was on her knees, ignoring the filthy floor, murmuring comforting words to the bundle of matted fur. But the dog’s eyes were open now and its tail stirred slightly. Jess had done her best to check on how badly it was hurt, but was frustrated by caked mud and dim light and the small animal’s cringing away from her probing touch.
“We’ll have to go easy,” she said, taking the shawl from Min’s shaking hand. “She’s hurt. Either somebody kicked her or ran into her or perhaps a large dog got her. I doubt that last, though. A dog would have broken her neck. Here, let’s slide the sweater under her.”
The tiny dog cried out when they moved her, but she was too weak to fight them. Jess wrapped her in the soft wool, her deft hands making no rapid movements.
“I’ll carry her to the van. When you’re inside, I’ll put her into your arms,” she said to Min. “We’ll try not to hurt you any more, poor baby
.”
All traces of impatience were gone. She was the Dr. Hart who had sung a lullaby to a lonely little girl in the children’s ward years before.
But Min was not reliving that long-ago time. Every atom of her was concentrated on the job at hand. She was shaking with fright when she held out her arms for the tiny dog. What if she should hurt her more? Did the dog know they were trying to help? She leaned back, cradling the small bundle, and sighed with relief.
“What sort of dog is she?” she asked. “Or can you tell?”
“I can’t tell for sure,” Jess said, getting in next to them. “Pugs and Pekes both have black faces like this, and she is definitely not a pug. She may be some kind of cross. It’s hard to tell through the burrs and dirt.” She glanced at Min. “Are you all set now?”
The sun had moved across the sky and it was now after noon. Neither of them noticed. They drove back to town and then out almost into the country again. Jess pulled up in front of the clinic just as the veterinarian was locking the door.
“Jessica,” he said, “I was about to go home to get a bite to eat. Did you need me?”
“Come and see the challenge my foster daughter Min has found for you,” Jessica Hart said.
Min was turning carefully toward the open door to let the doctor look at what she held when the word daughter made her go still for a second. Her eyes went wide. Then she pushed the moment of wonder out of the way and returned to her small burden. She waited for Jess to open the door wide for her. Then she slid out of the van without relinquishing the bundle.
Jack Miller stared down at the pair and unlocked his office again. “Call my house, Jess, and tell them I’ll get there when I can. Min, bring your patient in here.”
Min lowered the dog, still swaddled in the shawl, down onto the examining table. Biting her lip, she watched closely as Dr. Miller very gently undid the folds. The dog whimpered and flinched at his touch. Min’s heart lifted — the dog might be hurting, but at least she was still alive.
“She’s in a bad way,” the doctor said, as Jess came back from making the call. “The kindest thing would be to put her to sleep.”
