It's a Christmas Thing

by Janet Dailey

  She handed Snowflake to Travis, shed her coat, and laid it next to her suitcase. She had just stepped out of the tent when the sound of furious scratching and barking came from the far end of the hall. Clara’s dark eyes widened. “Is that Bucket?”

  “Yup, and he’s really anxious to meet you,” Travis said. “I locked him in my room because I didn’t want him to knock you over. Hang on, I’ll get him.” He strode down the hall and came back with the wriggling, wagging dog in his arms. Bucket had been bathed and brushed until his black-and-white coat gleamed. Rush hadn’t seen him so clean since last year’s Christmas parade.

  Travis tried to hold on to the dog, but Bucket was too much for him. Squirming with eagerness, he worked loose from Travis’s clasp, jumped to the floor, and came bounding to greet the newcomer.

  Here comes disaster, Rush thought. But he couldn’t reach Clara in time to snatch her away. Bucket barreled into her, wagging, licking, and making happy little whimpers.

  Alarm flashed across Clara’s face. Then, recovering from her fear, she laughed. Reaching out, she hugged the dog, giggling as he licked her face.

  It was strange, Rush thought. Bucket didn’t know Clara. There was no reason he should be so happy to see her. He was an older dog—maybe he had loved a child in his unknown past. Or maybe he’d recognized a kindred spirit—small, openhearted, and eager to play.

  “Can Bucket stay in my tent with me?” Clara asked.

  “Not a good idea,” Travis said. “Tonight, Bucket’s had a bath. But if you let him sleep by you, he’ll think he can do it anytime. You won’t want him in your tent when he’s been rolling in the mud. I’ve moved his bed to my room so he won’t bother you in the night.”

  “One thing more,” Rush said, holding up the toy cat. “You’ll need to keep Snowflake in a safe place, or Bucket will want to play with him. Snowflake wasn’t made to be a dog toy.”

  “I’ll tuck him in the sleeping bag. He’ll be there when I go to bed.” She took the toy. With Rush keeping Bucket outside the tent, she stuffed it into the sleeping bag.

  Conner was in the kitchen making hot chocolate and toast. “It’ll be ready in a couple of minutes,” he said.

  “I want to put my jammies on first.” Inside the tent, Clara was opening her suitcase.

  “Do you need any help?” Rush remembered how he’d helped her get ready for bed when she was younger.

  “I’m a big girl now, Daddy. I can get ready by myself.” She zipped the tent flap and emerged a few minutes later, clad in pink Disney princess pajamas and tiny pink slippers with cat faces and whiskers on the toes. Rush noticed that she’d put her pajama top on backward and her slippers were on the wrong feet, but knew better than to point it out. The little girl he still thought of as his was proud of her independence—something she was bound to need growing up with a mother like Sonya.

  “Let’s keep your tent zipped so Bucket will learn to stay out,” Rush suggested.

  “That’s a good idea, Daddy.” She found the outside zipper tab and managed to close the flap by herself.

  “Who’s ready for hot cocoa and toast?” Conner called from the kitchen.

  “Me!” Clara scampered to the table and let Conner boost her onto the chair he’d raised with a box on the seat. So far, so good, Rush thought as he watched her wipe her hands on the washcloth Conner had given her. His partners were the best friends he could have, welcoming his little girl like this. And Clara seemed happy to be here.

  He would do everything in his power to leave her with joyful memories of this Christmas holiday—memories that might be the last she would ever have of him.

  * * *

  The next morning Rush was up at first light to help with morning chores. After making sure Travis had let Bucket outside, he unzipped the blue tent where Clara had gone to sleep. In the faint glow of dawn, he could see her cocooned in the sleeping bag, one arm cradling her fuzzy toy cat. She looked so sweet in slumber that he was tempted to leave her alone. But it wouldn’t do to have her wake up all alone in a strange house.

  Stepping carefully into the tent, he leaned over her, touched her shoulder, and murmured her name. She stirred and opened her eyes. Her smile, when she saw him, was like the sun coming up. “Hi, Daddy,” she said. “Is it morning?”

  “Almost. I woke you up because I need to go outside and help with the work. My friends will be working, too, so you’ll be in here by yourself for a little while. Is that all right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You won’t be scared alone?”

  “I’m a big girl, Daddy. I won’t be scared. Where’s Bucket?”

  “He’s outside, helping. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when I come back inside.”

  “What if I need to get up?”

  “Do you know how to find the bathroom?”

  “Uh-huh. I went last night.”

  “Fine. If you get up, don’t open anything in the kitchen or go into any of the bedrooms. In case you’re hungry, I left some cookies and milk on the table. We’ll have breakfast when the chores are done. After that, if you behave, I’ll take you out to see the horses. Okay?”

  She gave him a sleepy smile. “Can we play in the snow today?”

  “If it’s not too cold. We’ll see.” Had she packed anything suitable for the weather? Coming from Phoenix, she probably didn’t have anything warmer than her lightweight coat and the little sneakers she’d worn. He would need to see that she had warm, sturdy clothes. He would also need to set up a routine for her, with a regular schedule and a set of rules to keep her out of trouble. The responsibilities he’d taken on were just beginning to sink in.

  “It’s early yet,” he said. “Travis built a fire in the stove before he went out, but the house is still cold. You’ll be warmer if you stay in bed a while. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Snuggling the toy cat, she closed her eyes. With luck, she’d sleep until he finished the chores and came back inside. Then what? Too bad he didn’t have a book on a thousand ways to entertain a four-year-old. Maybe his partners would have some suggestions.

  By the time Rush had finished his share of the morning chores, washed his hands, and returned to the house, Clara was sitting at the table, watching Travis spoon pancake batter onto the cast-iron griddle.

  “Hi, Daddy!” She gave him a smile. Her ponytail was lopsided, with missed strands of hair hanging around her face. She was dressed in a fuzzy blue sweater with a ballerina-style net tutu over the flowered leggings she’d worn last night. Her sneakers, which were fastened with strips of Velcro, were on the wrong feet.

  “Look, I got dressed all by myself,” she said. “And I fixed my own hair.”

  Rush had to smile. “You sure did. I’m proud of you.”

  Her smile broadened, making him wonder if her “real” father ever praised her. He hadn’t known Andre well, but Sonya’s lover had impressed him as a self-absorbed ass.

  “Here you go.” Travis flipped two pancakes onto her plate. “Careful, they’re hot.”

  “Can I butter them for you?” Rush asked. “If I remember right, you like your pancakes with plenty of syrup.”

  “I still do.” She let Rush melt butter on the hot pancakes and drown them in maple syrup. When he began cutting them into bite-sized pieces, as he’d done for her in the past, she smiled and let him. At least she hadn’t insisted on doing everything by herself.

  After they helped clear the table and loaded the dishwasher, Rush kept his promise to show Clara the horses. The day was sunny, but the morning air was bitter cold. Realizing that her thin blue coat wouldn’t protect her, Rush bundled the little girl into a blanket and carried her outside in his arms.

  Bucket came bounding out of the barn to meet them, wagging his tail and standing on his hind legs for attention. Clara reached down to pet him, giggling as he licked her fingers. “He likes me!”

  “He likes your fingers,” Rush teased. “They probably taste like syrup.”

  “Why did you name him Bucket?”
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br />   “We didn’t name him. That’s just the name he came with.”

  “It’s a silly name.”

  “I know. But he’s a smart dog. He can make the horses and cows go right where they’re supposed to. Ask Travis to tell you about the time Bucket chased a skunk under the back porch and got sprayed. That’s a good story.”

  Clara giggled. “What happened to the skunk?”

  “It ran away. Travis gave Bucket a good washing, but he smelled like a skunk for weeks.”

  Clara giggled. “I want to see the horses,” she said.

  With Bucket tagging behind them, Rush carried her into the barn and held her up to the gates of the box stalls to see Chip and Patch and stroke their necks with her small hands. She’d been around horses when Rush had his veterinary practice in Phoenix, but she was amazed at the size of the two huge draft animals. “They’re so big! Do they really pull Santa’s sleigh?” she asked.

  “In the parade, they do.”

  “But they can’t pull the sleigh on Christmas Eve ’cause they’re too big to fly. That’s why Santa needs reindeer. Right, Daddy?”

  “Smart thinking.” Rush wasn’t about to shoot down her childish belief. She would figure things out for herself when she was older.

  “Can we play in the snow now?” she asked as he carried her back toward the house.

  “Maybe later.” Much as he wanted to spend time with Clara, Rush had appointments to keep—a follow-up on a pregnant mare, a litter of puppies that needed vaccinations, and a milk cow with an abscessed leg. And that was only for starters. He had yet to reply to the messages that had come in while he was away. He couldn’t let his work slide when people needed him. And he couldn’t ask his partners to watch her during this busy season.

  “How would you like to ride around with me while I do my work?” he asked her. “You’ll get to see some animals.”

  She sighed. After all, she’d spent most of yesterday in the Hummer. But Rush could tell she wanted to please him. “Okay. But I really want to play in the snow.”

  “You’ll need warm clothes to play in the snow. For now, let’s go inside.” Rush carried her into the house, set her on the couch, unwrapped the blanket, and took her coat. In her fuzzy sweater and tutu skirt, with her ragged ponytail askew, she was an adorable waif. But how could he show up at his clients’ homes with a little ragamuffin who looked like a candidate for the child welfare office?

  “We’ll need to change your clothes and do your hair before we go,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve got in your suitcase.” He followed her into her tent and sat on the sleeping bag while she opened her suitcase. Finding her something to wear shouldn’t be a problem, Rush told himself. Surely Annie would have packed some sensible clothes for her.

  One by one, she lifted out the contents of the suitcase—a pink Sleeping Beauty princess gown, complete with a little tiara; the black-cat costume she’d worn last year on Halloween; a red Ariel wig and a mermaid tail; a pair of child-size high-heeled sandals with elastic straps; a polka-dot swimsuit; a Minnie Mouse nightgown, and several toy-sized outfits for Snowflake. No socks. No underwear. No pants or coveralls. No toothbrush or hairbrush. Rush’s heart sank.

  “Did you pack your suitcase all by yourself, Clara?” he asked her.

  “Uh-huh. Annie was crying ’cause her dad is sick, so I told her I could do it.” She grinned, her gaze seeking his approval. “And I did. See, I brought all my favorite things. Can I wear my princess dress to go in the car with you?”

  Rush surrendered with a shrug. Why not, as long as she was happy? “Sure,” he said. “But if you’re going to go outside and play in the snow you’ll need some new clothes.”

  Clara clapped her hands. “We can go shopping! I love shopping. When can we go?”

  Now what? Rush knew nothing about shopping for a little girl. How would he know what to choose? And how was he going to help her try things on in the women’s dressing room?

  “When can we go shopping, Daddy?” Clara repeated her question, more urgently this time.

  Rush did his best to stall. “I’ll have to figure that out. I’ve never shopped for girl things. I might need to get some help.”

  “Why don’t you call Maggie?” Travis had come into the house just in time to overhear their conversation. “I told her about your getting Clara for the holidays. She said to let her know if you need anything. Clothes shopping for a little girl should be right up her alley.”

  “But has she got time?” Rush asked. “Being mayor isn’t a job you can just walk away from, especially with the Christmas celebration coming up.”

  “You’ll never know unless you ask. I’ll give her a call.” Travis whipped out his cell phone and walked into the kitchen with it.

  “Tell her I’ll give her my credit card,” Rush called after him.

  “No problem.” The rest of Travis’s words were muffled as he made the call. A few minutes later, he came back into the living room.

  “Maggie says she’s got meetings scheduled for most of the day. But she wants to help. She’ll make some calls and get back to you.”

  “I really don’t want to put her out—” Rush began, but Travis cut him off.

  “You’re not putting her out. She really wants to help. And when she makes up her mind to get something done, it’ll get done. So just wait for it. You know Maggie.”

  * * *

  With the court in recess for the holidays, Tracy was enjoying some time off. She still had paperwork to do and briefs to read, but she could do those things at home. This morning she’d slept late, awakened to feed Murphy and the still-nameless mama cat, and tuned in to a morning exercise program on TV.

  When the session ended, she was sweating. She turned off the TV and stood in the middle of the floor, catching her breath and surveying her spotless house. She’d spent the past two days cleaning, and it showed—everything dusted, scrubbed, and in its place. But there wasn’t a Christmas decoration in sight. The lights and ornaments she’d collected in the early years of her marriage, when Christmas was still magical, remained boxed in the attic, never to be used again. She couldn’t bear to put them up, but she couldn’t get rid of them, either. They held too many bittersweet memories.

  She’d given up on Christmas for good, Tracy told herself. Last Christmas, her first without Steve, had been a nightmare of grief. This year would be easier. But nothing had changed. She was still alone, and still numb inside.

  Maybe next year she could book a trip and get out of Branding Iron for the holiday season. Hawaii might be nice. Or even someplace like Costa Rica. But this year she had Murphy, who couldn’t be left alone, and she still had to decide what to do with the calico cat and her growing kittens. Rush had offered to come by and check on her animals. But she hadn’t heard from him. Maybe he’d given up on her and moved on. Fine. It wasn’t as if she’d encouraged the handsome vet.

  Right now, it was time to get herself together for the day. Maybe she could make batches of cookies, deliver them to her neighbors, and drop them off at the courthouse for her coworkers. Or maybe she’d call the volunteer agency in Cottonwood Springs and see if they could use her help. Anything to boost her sagging spirits.

  She had just stepped out of the shower when the phone rang. The call was from the mayor’s office. Tracy picked up to hear Maggie’s cheerful voice.

  “Hi, Tracy. How are you enjoying your time off?”

  “Actually, I’m finding it a challenge to keep busy,” Tracy said.

  Maggie chuckled. “In that case, I can help you out. I need a favor—a personal favor.” She paused, as if waiting for a reply that didn’t come. “Hear me out before you answer. I’m really hoping you’ll say yes.”

  “All right, I’m listening.” Tracy liked the woman, who was the closest thing she had to a girlfriend. But Maggie could be pushy when she needed to get something done—which made her an excellent mayor.

  “When was the last time you talked to Rush?” Maggie asked.

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p; Tracy willed herself to ignore the skip of her pulse. She’d dismissed Rush as a lost cause. But the old stirrings were still there. “Not for a while. Maybe a couple of weeks.”

  “How much has he told you about his divorce?”

  “He mentioned it once—that his ex had married her old flame, and that they had a daughter. Nothing more than that.”

  “The little girl’s actually his stepdaughter,” Maggie said. “It’s a long, sad story. But to cut to the chase, because of a family emergency, he has her for the holidays. She’s four. I haven’t met her, but Travis says she’s a little doll. Rush adores her.”

  “And the favor?” Whatever it was, Tracy had a feeling her heart would be put at risk. Red flags went up.

  “Again, it’s a long story,” Maggie said. “Evidently, she packed her own suitcase, mostly with princess costumes. She doesn’t have anything practical to wear on the ranch. She needs somebody to take her girl-shopping, with Rush’s credit card, and buy her some clothes.”

  “Rush asked you to do it?”

  “No, Travis did. He told me the story. I would’ve been happy to help, but I’ll be in meetings most of the day. So I was hoping . . .”

  “That I would do it.” Tracy wasn’t fooled. Maggie had been trying to get her and Rush together. This time she’d come up with a legitimate reason.

  Maggie seemed to sense her hesitation. “If there’s any reason you don’t want to . . .”

  “No, of course, I’ll do it. Let me know what arrangement would work best.” How could she say no? She’d already told Maggie that she wasn’t busy. And she owed Rush a favor for helping with her animals. Things might be a little awkward at first, but what could be more fun than clothes shopping with a cute little girl?

  Especially if she could forget that she might never have another chance.

  “Thanks, you’re an angel,” Maggie said. “Let me call the ranch and get back to you.”

  A few minutes later, Maggie called again. By then Tracy had dressed in jeans and a sweater and combed the tangles out of her freshly washed hair.