It's a Christmas Thing

by Janet Dailey

  The sight of Murphy’s empty bed by the fireplace almost undid her. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. He’s with Steve now, she told herself. They’re together. They’re happy.

  After she got dressed, she would roll up the bed and take it out to the trash. Then she would box the leftover canned food and save it as a treat for Bucket.

  Last night she had shut Rainbow and her kittens into the laundry room. Now, from the other side of the door, she could hear a chorus of meows. When she opened the door, the four kittens came charging out into the hall, looking for any trouble they could find. Rainbow followed more sedately, pausing to rub against Tracy’s legs and purr a greeting. Tracy picked her up and snuggled her close, kissing the heart-shaped orange spot on her head. “I guess it’s going to be just us girls,” she said.

  When Rainbow meowed, Tracy put her down to round up her active babies. Only then did Tracy glance out the window and see the snow. Her breath caught. Overnight, the snow had transformed the world into a white fairyland. Trees had become lacework, the ground a glittering carpet, untracked except for Rush’s half-buried boot prints, leading to the curb where he’d left the Hummer.

  The whole town had been waiting for Christmas snow. This had to be a sign of something good, she told herself as she headed back to the bedroom to get dressed.

  The patchwork quilt where Rush had lain beside her still bore the imprint of his weight. She remembered how tenderly he’d held her, and how he’d kissed her good-bye that morning. She’d kissed him back, and everything about it had felt right.

  Steve’s photograph still smiled at her from its place on her nightstand. It was only paper, she reminded herself again. And it was time to put it away.

  After wrapping the photo in a spare pillowcase, she lifted the lid of the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and slipped it inside. For now she would leave the beach picture taken with Murphy in its place on the mantel. But later on, that would be put away, too. It was time she looked to the future.

  If fate and heaven willed it, her future would be with Rush. She wanted to believe what he’d told her about creating a family. But what if he changed his mind? What if he realized that he wanted to father his own children, with a woman who could make it easy?

  Tracy gazed out the window at the falling snow. Believe, a voice inside her whispered. Take a chance. Trust your heart.

  But what if her heart was wrong? What if she was about to get it broken again?

  * * *

  For the next hour, Tracy forced herself to sit at her desk and tackle the rest of the legal briefs she’d put off reading. She would need to be familiar with their contents when the court took up its business again after the first of the year. Today, she also needed a way to keep her mind occupied.

  It was almost 10:00 when Rush called to let her know he’d made the drive to Cottonwood Springs and left Murphy’s remains at the clinic. The ashes would be ready in a couple of days.

  “How about some breakfast before I head home?” he asked. “Even on a weekday, the B and B serves up a good plate of bacon and eggs.”

  “I don’t think I’m up for going out in public,” Tracy said. “But how would you like to lend me Clara for the day? I could use some cheering up, and she’s the most cheerful person I know.”

  “That would be great!” he said. “She’s been asking and asking. But are you sure you’re up for a day with a four-year-old?”

  “I think a day with a four-year-old is exactly what I need.”

  “She’ll be over the moon when I tell her,” Rush said. “I’m just getting into town. I’ll head straight home and have her at your door in about an hour. Oh—and thanks. Things are crazy busy at the ranch, especially with the snow. Think sleigh rides.”

  “I’m thinking more like snow angels, and maybe a snowman. Have her bring her warm clothes. I’ll see you soon.”

  Tracy ended the call and grabbed Ginger, who was headed into the broom closet. Midnight and Tiger were chasing a spider they’d scared out from behind the stove. Snowflake, the quiet, snuggly one, was enjoying a tongue bath from his mother. She would miss the kittens when they were gone. But at least the place would be quieter.

  By now she had a half dozen people on a waiting list in case the original adoptions fell through. Several people wanted Snowflake, but Tracy remembered her promise to Clara. She would save the white kitten, at least until Christmas.

  Pulling on her coat and boots, she went outside to shovel the walks and the driveway. The snow was deep, but not heavy, and the hard physical work felt good. The snow was still falling. By the time Tracy finished shoveling, the areas she’d cleared first were already coated with white.

  When she rolled up Murphy’s bed and carried it out to the trash, the familiar scent of his tired old body brought tears to her eyes. But she forced herself to keep moving until the job was done. The woodpile was by the kitchen door, sheltered from snow by the overhang of the roof. She gathered logs and kindling and carried them inside to make a fire in the fireplace. Clara would enjoy its cheery warmth.

  After rounding up the kittens and luring them back into the laundry room with food, she laid the fire with wood and crumpled newspaper. The logs were just beginning to burn when the front doorbell rang. Tracy hurried to answer it.

  Rush and Clara stood on the threshold, snowflakes glistening on their coats and hair. Rush was carrying a wreath of fresh pine boughs. “We brought you a present,” Clara said.

  “You’re supposed to hang it on the outside of your door,” Rush added. “But we thought maybe you’d rather hang it inside, for the smell. I brought a hanger. It goes over the top of the door.”

  “Come on in.” Tracy stepped aside for them to enter. A chilly breeze blew in behind them. The glorious fragrance of fresh-cut pine flooded the room. Tracy inhaled, deeply. “Oh, my, it smells like Christmas!”

  Rush took the hanger out of his coat pocket. It was designed with a bent metal piece, flat and thin enough to fit over the top of a door, with a longer hook at the bottom for a wreath.

  “Inside or outside, up to you,” Rush said.

  “Oh, inside. Definitely inside.”

  While Rush hung the wreath on the door, Clara wandered over to the fireplace and stood looking down at the empty spot where Murphy’s bed had been. Sad-eyed, she turned back to Tracy. “Daddy told me that Murphy went to heaven,” she said. “I’m sorry, Tracy. I bet your husband was happy to see him.”

  “I’m sure they were happy to see . . . each other.” Tracy’s voice stumbled over the last words.

  “Are you sad?” Clara asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Tracy said. “But I’ll get better. That’s why I invited you to come, to help me get better.”

  “I’ll try. Where are the kittens?”

  “In the laundry room. You can let them out. They’ve been needing somebody like you to play with them.”

  Clara scampered down the hall to open the laundry room door. Rush had finished hanging the wreath. Its fragrance scented the air, spreading through the room. Tracy walked over to the door where he stood. “Thank you,” she said. “For the first time in two years, that wonderful aroma makes me feel like it’s Christmas.” And so do you.

  “Well, you said you didn’t want a tree. But I didn’t think you’d mind a nice wreath—at least for the fragrance. It’s a Christmas thing.”

  “Can you stay?”

  He shook his head. “If I’m one minute late getting back to the ranch, Conner will have my head. It’s crazy time at Christmas Tree Ranch. Thanks again for taking Clara.”

  “She’ll be good for me.”

  “And you’re good for me.”

  She was looking up at him when he bent, caught her waist, and kissed her. The kiss, meant to be a quick good-bye peck, lingered, deepened, went on and on as their hungry lips clung.

  “Oh, wow!”

  They broke apart. Clara stood at the entrance to the hallway, a kitten cradled in each arm. “Does this mean you’re
getting married?” she asked.

  Rush laughed. “Right now, all it means is that we really, really like each other. Get used to it.”

  With that, he was out the door and gone.

  Hot-faced, Tracy turned back to Clara. The little girl was grinning. “I’d like it if you married my dad,” she said. “Then you could be my mom.”

  “You already have a mom, Clara,” Tracy said.

  “I have two dads. I could have two moms.”

  Tracy shook her head. “Never mind. Did you have breakfast?”

  “Uh-huh. I ate three whole pancakes. Travis made them.”

  “Okay, you can tell me when you’re hungry for lunch. I know you’re playing with the kittens right now, but what else would you like to do?”

  “Can we play in the snow?”

  “It’s still coming down out there. Wouldn’t you rather wait till it stops?”

  “No. It’ll be like playing inside a snow globe. I saw one in a store once. It was so beautiful with the snow coming down.” Her small face brightened. “Let’s go out now, before it stops.”

  There was no way Tracy could win that argument. Dressed in warm parkas, boots, and gloves, they raced outside into clouds of swirling white. The snow on the ground was deep enough to reach Clara’s knees. She stumbled and floundered through it, giggling ecstatically as she fell backward, making angel after angel.

  “You make an angel, too,” she told Tracy. Tracy fell on her back in the snow. Fanning her arms and legs, she made a perfect angel. Then she tried to get up.

  “Oh, no,” she moaned, “I’m stuck!”

  Clara squealed with laughter as Tracy thrashed and struggled to her feet, her angel spoiled. “Can we make snowballs?” Clara asked. “We could have a snowball fight.”

  “We could try.” Tracy tried shaping a handful of snow into a ball. It fell apart. The snow was too soft. “I guess we’ll just have to throw snow,” she said, tossing a handful at Clara’s coat. Clara grabbed some snow and tossed it back. By the time it struck Tracy, it had broken into powder.

  “I guess we can’t make a snowman, either,” Clara said.

  “We can try in a day or two, when the snow’s had time to settle,” Tracy said. “But I know a fun game. It’s called Fox and Geese—or Goose, I guess.” Letting Clara follow her, she broke a circular trail in the snow, with cross trails leading from one side of the circle to the other. “Okay, you’re the fox, and I’m the goose. We can only run on the trails, and you have to catch me. Go!”

  Tracy started running in miniature steps around the circle. Catching on fast, Clara chased her. When the “goose” was nearly caught, Tracy turned onto a cross trail and got away. After a few such maneuvers, she let Clara catch her. “Now I get to be the fox,” she said. “Run, goose!”

  By the time they’d played the game for ten or fifteen minutes, Tracy was out of breath and Clara was getting cold. “Time to go in.” She picked up the little girl and carried her to the porch, where they stomped the snow off their boots and brushed it off their clothes. As they opened the door and stepped inside, the lush fragrance of the pine wreath surrounded them. It really did smell like Christmas.

  “That . . . was . . . fun.” Clara’s teeth chattered as Tracy helped her out of her coat and boots.

  “Sit here by the warm fire while I make us some hot cocoa,” Tracy said. “When we’re warmed up, it’ll be time to play another game—it’s called Find the Kittens.”

  The four kittens had scattered in all directions. Rainbow, curled in a chair by the fire, watched in quiet amusement as Clara and Tracy searched. It was as if she were saying, Go ahead and look. I know where they are. I could find them in a minute.

  Midnight was under Tracy’s bed, his black fur blending with the shadows. Ginger had climbed into an open kitchen drawer. Tiger was under the desk in Tracy’s office. Snowflake was asleep on the furry white rug in the bathroom, almost invisible until he opened his eyes and meowed.

  Clara put the kittens in the chair with their mother. They snuggled together, a bundle of purring contentment.

  Tracy made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch. They sat at the kitchen table, talking and eating. “I wish I could stay here forever,” Clara said. “I love the snow and the ranch. I love Daddy’s friends and Bucket. And I love being here at your house.”

  “Your parents would miss you if you stayed here.”

  Clara shrugged. “My mom might. But she could have another baby. Andre wouldn’t miss me much at all.”

  “We can’t always have what we want.” Tracy’s heart ached for the little girl.

  “I know,” Clara said. “I have to go home to Mom and Andre. And I know they won’t let me bring Snowflake. I wrote to Santa just to ask him. But he can’t really bring me what I want. He can bring toys and stuff, but he can’t make people change.”

  Tracy reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’re a wise girl,” she said. “And whatever happens, you’re going to do fine.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Clara said. “You don’t have to say yes.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “If I can’t have Snowflake, could you keep him? That way I would know he was happy with his mom. And Rainbow wouldn’t be lonesome.”

  “I think that’s a lovely idea,” Tracy said. “But let’s wait and see what happens.”

  “Is that a no or a yes?”

  “It’s a yes, if nothing better works out. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Clara ate in silence for a few minutes, then changed the subject.

  “I know something we can do after lunch. My friend, Gracie McFarland, showed me how to make Christmas cards. Have you got any paper, and some markers or crayons?”

  “I think so,” Tracy said. “The paper is just white. Will that be okay?”

  “Uh-huh. I want to make cards for everybody.”

  Tracy had plenty of white copy paper in her office. The packet of washable markers hadn’t been used in a while, but when she tested them, all the colors worked. By the time she’d found what she needed and carried everything into the kitchen, Clara had finished eating. They cleared the table, wiped it off, and got ready to work.

  Clara took a sheet of paper and folded it in half. “See,” she said. “Now it’s a card. You make a picture on the front and you write on the inside.”

  “Can you write?” Tracy asked.

  “A little. But it’s kind of hard. I’ll make the picture, and you can write what I tell you. Okay?”

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  “This one’s for my dad.” She used the green marker to make a squiggly Christmas tree. “Now you write,” she said. “Merry Christmas to Daddy, from Clara.”

  Once they got started the cards went fairly quickly. Each picture was different—a dog for Travis, a horse for Conner, a star for Maggie, a cat for her friend Gracie, and other pictures for the rest of the McFarland family. She even made cards for Cecil and Annie who’d taken care of her in Phoenix. The inside messages were all the same except for the names. Her artwork wasn’t bad for a four-year-old’s, but best of all, she was having fun.

  “Are you going to make cards for your parents?” Tracy asked.

  “They’re on the big boat. They can’t get my cards there.” Clara shook her head and kept on drawing.

  On the last card, she drew a big brown dog with wings on his back. “This card is for you,” she said. “It’s Murphy. He’s an angel now.”

  Tracy blinked away a tear.

  By the time the cards were finished, Clara was yawning. “Time for a rest,” Tracy said. “Would you like to lie down on my bed?”

  “Uh-huh. Can I take Snowflake with me?”

  “All right. Just be careful. Pick him up gently so Rainbow will know she can trust you.”

  Clara tiptoed over to the chair, eased the white kitten away from the others, and gathered him into her arms. Rainbow raised her head. “Don’t worry, Rainbow, I’ll bring him back,” she said.

&nb
sp; Tracy walked with her back to the bedroom, helped her onto the bed, and covered her with the small quilt. A few minutes later, when she went back to check on her, Clara was fast asleep with Snowflake curled in the spoon of her body.

  Moving quietly, Tracy went into her home office and sat down at her computer. Something Clara had said earlier had given her an idea for a gift.

  A quick search on her computer brought up just what she wanted—a beautiful snow globe with Santa and his sleigh inside. Using her credit card, she chose express shipping and placed the order. The snow globe would be something that Clara could have in Phoenix. When she made the snow swirl, she would be reminded of Christmas Tree Ranch and the people who loved her.

  * * *

  It was after 3:00 when Rush parked outside Tracy’s house and climbed the front steps. Between cutting and hauling trees, grooming the sleigh-ride trail, repairing the harnesses, and polishing the hardware on the sleigh till it gleamed, he ached in every joint and muscle. The snow was a blessing to the ranch. But the popular sleigh rides, which would continue through the New Year if the snow lasted, doubled the season’s workload.

  He rapped lightly on the door, hoping that Clara would still be napping. This morning’s brief time with Tracy hadn’t been enough.

  She opened the door, dressed in jeans and a faded sweatshirt, her hair loose and her face glowing. Just seeing her smile made the drive on treacherous roads worth his time.

  He was head over heels in love, and it felt damned good.

  Stepping inside, he closed the door softly behind him, shed his coat on the floor, and caught her in his arms. Their kiss was long and sweet, leaving them both hungry for more. But what they really wanted would have to be saved for another time.

  She stepped back with a mischievous smile. “I see you still have your head,” she said.

  It took a beat for him to remember what he’d said about Conner that morning. “Just barely,” he said. “I threatened him with mutiny if I didn’t get a break. How’s Clara?”

  “Still napping. I think we wore her out.”

  “Yes, I saw the snow angels and the Fox and Geese game. I haven’t played that since I was a kid.” His gaze wandered to the couch and the fire. “Now that looks inviting. I can’t stay long, but I’ve been fantasizing about you and that couch and that fireplace all day.”