It's a Christmas Thing

by Janet Dailey

  “Let’s shop till we drop.” Clara repeated the phrase that she’d probably learned from her mother.

  Tracy lifted the little girl out of the cart. “All right, Princess Clara. Lead the way.”

  * * *

  Choosing a warm, hooded parka, snow boots, a matching knit cap and mittens, two pairs of jeans and two pairs of stretch pants, four warm shirts, a fleece vest, and a week’s worth of socks and underwear took Clara and Tracy more than two hours. Shopping with Clara was fun, but the little girl had definite tastes and a strong will. Everything had to be the right color and the right style. And everything needed to be tried on and critically viewed in front of a mirror.

  By the time they headed for the long checkout lines, with Clara in her princess costume once more, Tracy was teetering on the brink of exhaustion. As they passed the bakery department, the mouth-watering aromas of cinnamon and fresh-baked dough drifted from behind the counter.

  “I’m hungry,” Clara said. “Please, can I have a cookie?”

  “That sounds like a great idea, especially since you said please.” Tracy pushed the cart up to the counter.

  “What can I do for you?” The young blond woman behind the counter gave them a sunny smile. Katy Parker, who had Down syndrome, was the daughter of Connie and Silas Parker, who owned Branding Iron’s only garage. A favorite in the town, she’d been working in the bakery for the past year.

  Her eyes sparkled as she caught sight of Clara in her princess costume. “My goodness, it’s a real, live princess!” she said. “What do princesses like to eat?”

  “Just one cookie,” Tracy said. “She can choose. No need for a bag.”

  Clara surveyed the array of Christmas cookies, taking her time while Tracy fished for change in her purse. At last the little girl pointed to a row of iced gingerbread men. “I’d like one of those, please.”

  Katy used a square of tissue to pick up the cookie and pass it across the counter to Clara. “I made this myself. Special for little princesses.” She waved away Tracy’s attempt to pay. “No, don’t worry about it. Have a merry Christmas.”

  “Bye. Thanks for the cookie.” Clara gave Katy a princess wave as they left the bakery behind. “I like that lady,” she said. “She looks like a pixie. Maybe she really is.”

  “A pixie who bakes. I like that idea. Anyway, she’s very nice, isn’t she?” An explanation of Down syndrome was more than the little girl would understand. Today she’d go with Clara’s version. Katy did resemble a pretty little pixie.

  Tracy pushed the cart away toward the nearest checkout line. Clara munched the gingerbread man, nibbling off the feet, the arms, and finally the head. By the time they reached the checkout stand, the cookie was gone, and she had a ring of gingerbread and icing around her mouth.

  The checkout would put a dent in Rush’s credit card account, Tracy mused as she wheeled the cart across the slushy parking lot. But Travis had passed on the word that the sky was the limit. She could only hope Rush had meant what he’d said.

  “Where are we going now?” Clara asked as Tracy lifted her into the booster seat and waited while she fastened the straps.

  “We’re going to my house to wait for your dad. Would you like that?”

  “Uh-huh. Have you got a Christmas tree?” Clara looked tired.

  “No Christmas tree. But I’ve got something else you’ll like.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a surprise. You’ll see.” Tracy pushed the cart to the nearest stand and climbed into her car. Her house was only a few minutes away. If Rush didn’t show up soon, she would make a simple lunch. After that, if Clara wasn’t ready for a nap, maybe they could make some cookies for her to take back to the ranch.

  Rush, huh?

  Ben’s words, and his knowing look, lingered in her memory. Why did people keep trying to make her and Rush into a couple? They were just friends, and barely that.

  But what would it be like, snuggling in front of the fire, feeling his arms around her, tasting long, delicious kisses?

  Stop it! Tracy gave herself a mental slap as she pulled the car into the driveway. Fantasizing was a waste of time, especially when nothing was going to happen.

  She helped Clara out of the car and carried her to the front porch. Then she went back for the shopping bags before opening the front door. “I have a big dog,” she warned Clara. “His name’s Murphy. He’s old and gentle, so you don’t have to be afraid of him.”

  “I’m not afraid of dogs. We’ve got a dog at the ranch. His name’s Bucket. You saw him with Conner.” Clara walked into the living room. Murphy, still in his bed, raised his head and thumped his tail. With a little murmur, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi, Murphy,” she said, stroking the old pit bull’s massive head. “Is he the surprise?” she asked, looking back at Tracy.

  “Maybe part of it. But no, there’s more. First, you need the bathroom. You haven’t gone all morning. It’s just down this hall. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Clara headed in the direction she pointed. “Don’t worry, I don’t need any help. I’m a big girl.”

  “Fine. Wash your hands when you’re done.”

  “I know.” She went into the bathroom. As the door closed behind her, Tracy’s phone rang.

  Tracy snatched the ringing phone out of her purse. The caller was Rush. “Hi,” she said. “We just got home. Clara’s been great, but wait till you get your credit card bill!”

  He laughed, a sound that sent warmth flowing to the tips of her toes. “She’s got expensive taste. Probably gets it from her mother. Is she doing all right?”

  “Fine. She’s in the bathroom right now. Do you want to talk to her?”

  “No, that’s all right. Just to you,” he said. “I’m here with a mare who’s about to deliver, so I’ll be a while yet, maybe another couple of hours. Sorry, I didn’t plan on this. Can I impose on you a little longer?”

  “It’s no imposition,” Tracy said. “Take as long as you need. I’m enjoying her.”

  “Thanks. I owe you big-time for this. I’d like the chance to repay you.”

  Tracy’s pulse slammed. Was the man about to ask her out on a date? A mindless panic seized her. It was too soon. She liked him, maybe too much, but she wasn’t ready. “No need to pay me back. I’m enjoying your little girl. And you’ve already done so much, helping me with my pets and fixing my sink.”

  “Well, then, maybe—”

  An urgent voice in the background interrupted him. “Sounds like it’s time. Gotta go,” he said, ending the call.

  Through the bathroom door, she could hear the toilet flush and the sound of running water. A moment later, Clara opened the door. “All done,” she said. “Now can you show me the surprise?”

  “In a minute,” Tracy said. “I just talked to your dad. He won’t be here until sometime after lunch. Wouldn’t you like to put some of your new play clothes on now? We could play in the snow after we eat, unless you’d rather stay in and make cookies.”

  She shook her tiara-crowned head. “I want to see the surprise now.”

  “All right. Just follow me.” Tracy led the way to the laundry room door at the end of the hall. “Go on in,” she said, opening the door. “Climb on the chair and look down into that big box.”

  Lifting the skirt of her princess gown, she put a foot on the cross brace of the chair and climbed onto the seat. Her breath caught as she saw the kittens in the box.

  “Oh . . .” she whispered. “Can I hold them?”

  “Is the mother cat with them?” Tracy asked.

  “She is. She’s feeding her babies.” Clara giggled. “Oh, they’re so cute! They’re doing this with their little paws.” She made kneading motions with her fingers.

  “Let’s leave the kittens until they’ve finished eating,” Tracy said. “Then you can take them out of the box and hold them. For now, let’s have some lunch. Do you like grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Come on
, you can help me make them.”

  Clara climbed down from the chair and followed Tracy into the kitchen. “Do the kittens have names?” she asked.

  “Not yet. Would you like to name them?” Tracy pulled a stool close to the counter and boosted her onto it.

  “Can I really name them?” She spread soft butter on the bread slices Tracy had laid out.

  “You can name them for now. When they go to new homes, their new owners might want to choose their own names.”

  “When do they go to new homes?”

  “Not yet. They still need their mother. But in a couple of weeks, when they’re old enough to eat solid food, they’ll be ready to go.”

  “That’s so sad. Won’t their mom miss them?” Clara helped Tracy lay the cheese slices on the bread.

  “Maybe for a little while,” Tracy said. “But she’ll be all right. Mother cats don’t keep their babies a long time like people do.”

  “What’s the mom’s name?” Clara watched Tracy lay the sandwiches on the heated skillet.

  “She doesn’t have a name. I just call her Mama Cat.”

  “But why doesn’t she have a name?”

  “Because I don’t plan to keep her after her babies are gone.”

  Clara looked shocked. “But that would be mean, just to put her out.... She’d be so sad. And she might be hungry and cold.”

  Tracy was beginning to feel like a monster. Clara was right. She hadn’t wanted a cat, but the sweet calico mother had found a home with her.

  “You’ve got to keep her,” Clara said as Tracy turned the sandwiches with a spatula.

  “I know.” Tracy sighed as one more chink opened in the armor she’d placed around her heart. “As long as she’s going to be mine, would you like to give her a name, too? A for-keeps name this time.”

  Clara grinned and nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with a good one.”

  Tracy cut the sandwiches into triangles, put them on a plate, and poured two glasses of milk. Life was full of surprises. Just like that, because of a little girl’s wisdom, a needy stray cat had become family.

  When she’d agreed to help Rush and his daughter, she’d sensed that she was putting her fragile emotions at risk. Now that she’d learned the truth about their tragic relationship, those emotions were threatening to wash through her defenses and sweep her away.

  But she couldn’t let that happen. She’d had enough trauma in her life. The last thing she wanted was more.

  Chapter 7

  After lunch, Tracy spread a blanket on the living room floor and put the kittens on it so Clara could play with them. The mother cat took a break to eat and use the litter box before curling up in a nearby chair to keep an eye on her babies. Murphy slept on, undisturbed by the cats or the little girl’s happy chatter.

  At about six weeks, the kittens were old enough to play and explore. They climbed onto Clara’s shoulders, chased a string, nibbled her fingers, and purred in her arms. The little girl was all smiles and giggles.

  “Are they boys or girls?” she asked Tracy.

  “It’s hard to tell when they’re so little. But I think the little tabby is the only girl. The rest are boys.”

  “I’ve got names for them,” Clara said, making a cradle with her skirt and putting the four kittens in it. “The black one is Midnight. The orange one is Ginger. The striped one is Tiger. And this one . . .” She picked up the little white cat and kissed its head. “This one is Snowflake, like my toy cat back at the ranch. They look just the same. But this Snowflake is real. I love them all, but I love him the most.”

  “Those names are perfect,” Tracy said. “Have you thought of a good name for their mother?”

  “Uh-huh. She has all the cat colors—white and black and orange. So, I think you should call her Rainbow.”

  “Rainbow. I like it.” Tracy had been prepared to accept any name, even a silly one. But Clara had made a good choice.

  Leaning over the chair, she stroked the calico mother’s soft fur. “How do you like your new name, Rainbow?” she asked.

  Clara laughed. “Listen to her. She’s purring. She likes it.”

  Rainbow jumped down from the chair, walked over to Clara, and gave an insistent meow.

  “I think she’s telling you she wants her babies back,” Tracy said. “Let’s put the kittens in their box for now. We don’t want them to get too tired.”

  They carried the kittens back to the laundry room and lowered them gently into the box. Rainbow jumped in after them, and they all settled down for a nap.

  “Now what?” Tracy asked. “Would you like to change your clothes and play in the snow, or would you rather stay in and make some cookies?”

  Clara yawned. “Could I rest a little bit first?”

  “That sounds like a good idea. Would you like to lie down on my bed under a nice warm blanket?”

  “Just for a little while.” Clara sounded sleepy. Tracy guided her to the bedroom, helped her onto the bed, and laid a pretty, quilted comforter over her.

  “How’s that? Cozy enough for a princess?”

  “It’s nice.” Turning onto her side, she noticed Steve’s photo on the nightstand. “Who’s that?” she asked.

  “My husband. He died more than a year ago, but I keep the picture there to remember him.”

  “I saw another picture on your fireplace. Is that him, too?”

  “Yes, with me and Murphy.”

  “I’m sorry he died. You must be really sad.”

  “I am, but only sometimes,” Tracy said. “Now close your eyes and rest. If you need anything, I’ll be close by. Just call me.”

  When Clara didn’t reply, she tiptoed out of the room. A few minutes later, when she checked, the little girl was fast asleep.

  Entertaining a four-year-old had taken a lot of energy. Tracy was ready for a nap herself. But Rush would be showing up soon. Surely, he’d have called if he was going to be much longer.

  She’d tidied the kitchen and living room and was kneeling beside Murphy’s bed, scratching the old dog’s ears, when she heard a rap on the door. She pushed to her feet and hurried across the room to answer it.

  Rush stood in the doorway, moisture glistening on his dark hair and on his down parka. When Tracy glanced past him, she saw that the sky had darkened with clouds, and a soft, light snow was falling.

  “I’m glad you heard my knock,” he said. “I didn’t want to ring the bell in case Clara was napping. She used to go down about this time.”

  “Good thinking. She went to sleep a few minutes ago. You might want to leave her for a while.” Tracy stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind him.

  “Actually, I was hoping you’d say that.” He slipped out of his damp parka and hung it on the coatrack near the door. “It’s been a while, Tracy. I can’t thank you enough for taking Clara at the last minute. It can’t have been convenient. I understand that you might’ve had other plans.”

  “Not really,” Tracy said. “Shopping with her was fun. But she’s a little fashionista. She refused to settle for anything less than exactly what she wanted.” She pointed to the Shop Mart bags that were piled on the floor at the end of the couch. “And before I forget, here’s your credit card.” She fished in her purse, found the card, and handed it to him. “We put some mileage on it today.”

  His laugh was deep and real. Tracy felt its warmth trickling through her like mulled cider on a cold day. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “And don’t worry about running up my balance. Making that little girl happy is at the top of my list.”

  Tracy turned away to hide a surge of emotion. So much love for a child who wasn’t even his. What a great father he would be to his own children when the time came.

  All the more reason to keep her distance.

  Recognizing a friend, Murphy hauled himself to his feet and ambled over to meet Rush. “Hello, old boy, let’s see how you’re doing.” Rush rubbed the elderly dog’s ears while he examined his eyes. “No change there
.”

  “But he’s walking better, isn’t he?” Tracy asked hopefully.

  “A little, maybe. He does seem more comfortable, but at his age, you can’t expect miracles.” Rush ran a hand down the bony old back. “Good boy. You can go back to bed now.”

  Tracy didn’t want to talk about where Murphy’s condition was leading. “Are you hungry? I make a killer grilled cheese sandwich—especially the grown-up version.”

  “Thanks. I’ll bet you do.” He followed her into the kitchen and seated himself at the table, watching her as she assembled sliced bread, butter, bacon, chopped green peppers, and a thick slab of aged, sharp cheddar.

  “Your daughter loved the kittens,” she said, making conversation. “I think they wore each other out playing. Don’t be surprised if she asks you for the white one.”

  Rush shook his head. “If she does, I’ll have to say no. I’d like to give her a pet, but she wouldn’t be able to take it home with her. Andre, her new father, is allergic.” He caught himself, as if realizing he might have revealed too much.

  It was time for Tracy to stop pretending that she didn’t know the truth. She turned to face him.

  “Clara told me what happened back in Phoenix,” she said. “There were things she didn’t understand, and I had to piece her story together, but I know that you found out she was another man’s child. That must have been terrible for you.”

  He exhaled, as if relieved that she knew. “It was. Still is. I tried to get joint custody, or at least visitation rights, but between my ex’s pricey lawyers and the fact that I’m not even Clara’s blood relative, I didn’t have a prayer. I thought it might be best to leave her and hope that she’d forget me. But now . . . it might have been kinder if I’d refused to take her.”

  “She’s never forgotten you,” Tracy said. “Let me pass on something she told me in the car. She said that Andre was her father, but that you would always be her daddy.”

  “Oh, hell.” His jaw tightened as he struggled to control his emotions. “Let’s talk about something else while you finish that sandwich.”

  “Yes, good idea.” She stacked the layers of the sandwich and laid it on the heated griddle. The butter sizzled. Aromas of bacon and melting cheese drifted through the kitchen. “How’s the Christmas tree business doing?” She turned the sandwich over to toast it on the other side.