Under the Christmas Star

by Amanda Tru

  “Joy, go pull the records for Kyle Montgomery’s dog, Henry.”

  Kyle Montgomery. Joy retreated from the room, feeling both relieved that she had been given something to do, and disappointed at having been yanked away from those magnetic brown eyes. What was going on with her, anyway?

  She went to the wall of files behind the front desk, her pulse pounding. That poor dog could be seriously ill, and here she was drooling over his handsome hunk of an owner. She snagged the file and darted back to the exam room.

  Get yourself together, Joy.

  From her desk, Joy glanced up at their patient’s owner, Kyle Montgomery, seated by the window with his head in his hands. His dark hair was a little messy from repeatedly running his fingers through it for the forty-five minutes he’d been waiting, which—unfortunately for Joy—only made him more attractive.

  What did a guy like that do for a living, anyway? Model? Actor? Firefighter? She glanced down at the paperwork he’d just filled out.

  Architect.

  Huh.

  She pictured him on a build site, wearing a suit and a hard hat and pointing from the blueprint in his hand to the actual building going up behind him. Smiling to herself, she mentally removed the jacket and tie, then had him roll up the sleeves of his button-front shirt. Yeah, that was better. He was more the rugged type.

  That thought was immediately followed by a rush of guilt for even allowing it to enter her head. What was wrong with her? The poor guy was distraught, and here she was giving him the starring role in her little illicit daydream. That was downright rude. Besides, she wasn’t supposed to be noticing men. Time to reel herself in.

  Dr. Collins had taken an x-ray and discovered that Henry had some kind of blockage. She and Becky were now doing exploratory surgery to figure out what the dog had swallowed and, best case scenario, remove it.

  Joy checked the time again. Fifteen more minutes and she’d have to ask Evan, the other vet’s assistant, to man the desk until Kyle could leave. Evan had already agreed, under duress, that her need to pick up her kids by six was more pressing than his need to get to the store for nacho ingredients before heading home to watch the game.

  She chewed her lip. Generally when a client was waiting all alone and she wasn’t busy, she’d try to console them. Just because he looked like he belonged on the cover of a romance novel didn’t mean she should treat him any differently. It wouldn’t be like she was flirting, or anything. That ship, for her, had sailed and wasn’t scheduled to return to port for a good thirteen or so years.

  Standing, she took in a deep breath and almost choked on nothing but air.

  As she crossed around the counter, a totally uncharacteristic awareness of her own appearance hit her like a wave. Stealing a look at her reflection in the TV that hung from the corner of the kids’ area, she smoothed a stray strand of her mousy hair that had slipped from her messy bun. And when had she gotten so lazy about her makeup?

  Well, there was nothing she could do about that now. Besides, how arrogant was she to think that he’d even notice what she looked like under the circumstances?

  Slowly, she approached. He glanced up, then straightened and got that look in his eye that patients always got when they were bracing themselves for bad news. Oh no! She hadn’t meant to alarm him.

  “C…can I get you anything?” she stammered.

  The look of fear dissipated, at any rate. Then he smiled very slightly, like he was trying to be polite. “No. Thanks. Have you heard anything?”

  “Not yet. I’m sorry.” Unsure of what else to do, she slid into the seat next to him. “But Dr. Collins is the best. She really is. Henry’s in great hands.”

  “I know. I mean, a couple of my neighbors recommended her when I first got Henry. I’ve only brought him in one other time.”

  “I’m surprised I don’t remember you. Him.” She snapped her focus to her scuffed Danskos. “I never forget a handsome face. Henry’s, I mean.” She winced. Had she not been functioning in the adult world for years now? Why did she sound like a giddy pre-teen?

  But if he noticed how flummoxed she was, he was too polite, or distressed, to acknowledge it. Of course, he was probably used to women melting like candle wax in his presence. At least he didn’t appear to have let that go to his head.

  “Well, we were only here that one time,” he offered. “And it was a Saturday.”

  “That explains it. I don’t usually work on weekends.” Why would he care about that, Joy? Noticing that she had unintentionally maneuvered so that her knee was practically touching his, she subtly shifted her legs along with the subject. “Henry’s a beautiful dog. Rhodesian Ridgeback?”

  “Yeah.” He sat back, like the conversation might be providing him with a welcome distraction.

  “It’s a pretty unusual breed.” She sat back as well, casually crossing then uncrossing her legs. Why did she feel so ungainly? Like she’d never sat in a chair before. “Especially the burnished red coat with the brown nose.” Great. Now she sounded like a vet school textbook.

  “Yeah, black noses are way more common.” He twisted slightly toward her, like he was actually enjoying their conversation. “I did some research after I got him.”

  Relaxing just a touch, she placed her elbow on the armrest between them. “So, how long have you had him?”

  “Just a couple of months. He’s kind of a rescue. I mean, he lived in my building, but his owner had to move to a senior care facility and he couldn’t take the dog. So I promised I’d give him a good home.”

  “And I’m guessing that you have.”

  “I hope so. It’s not easy being a ‘puppy parent.’”

  She couldn’t help but smile at the way he said that, like his station in life had been elevated.

  “I mean,” he went on, “I’m kind of surprised at how attached I’ve gotten to him. I just can’t even think about something happening to him.” He looked down, his eyes glistening. “And this is my fault. I should have thought about him getting into that cupboard if there was food in the trash.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. Some dogs are bad about that, but not all. If the previous owner didn’t warn you, how would you have known?”

  “Thanks.” He tipped his head toward her in a way that said he got that she was only trying to make him feel better.

  “I mean it.” Without thinking, she placed a consoling hand on his knee. She stared at it, seeing peripherally that his gaze had landed on it too.

  Hoping that she might pull off the pretense that the move had been intentional, and that she hadn’t just stepped over…way over…the bounds of propriety, she gave his knee a firm pat—not once, but twice—before removing it and putting it back in her own lap where it belonged.

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs and clasping his hands together. “It’s weird to feel so helpless.” He paused, blinking those mesmerizing chocolate-brown eyes and turning away like he might not want her to see that he was getting emotional. “But sometimes, all you can do is—”

  “Pray?” She pulled in a breath, like she might be trying to suck the word back in. Where had that come from?

  Oh, right. Becky had said it to her a little while ago. Apparently, Joy was some kind of compassion parrot now.

  He turned to her, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that made Joy sink into her chair like a thawing popsicle. “I was going to say ‘wait,’ but I like your word better. Thanks for the reminder.”

  He looked around the room and she trailed his gaze, realizing that he was probably taking in all the small indications that this was a predominantly Christian office. The cross on the wall, the painting of Jesus surrounded by animals, just to name a few. Dr. Collins, Becky, Evan…all believers. In fact, now that she really thought about it, she might be the only one there who wasn’t a regular churchgoer.

  Kyle gave a slow nod. “I need to remember to lean on the Lord, especially in times like this.”

  Lean on the Lord? He sounded like
Victoria. But coming from him, the words didn’t make her cringe. They warmed her…comforted her somehow. Funny, she was supposed to be the one offering comfort to him, not the other way around.

  He angled his head just enough to catch her eye, and was about to say something more when the door to the back opened and Becky barreled out, a big grin splitting her face.

  Kyle fairly shot out of his chair and met her in the middle of the room.

  “Henry’s going to be fine.”

  Becky’s announcement sent a wave of relief through Joy as she stood and joined the two of them in a moment of shared celebration.

  Kyle closed his eyes and tipped his head back, saying a nearly inaudible, “Thank You.”

  Feeling almost as invested in Henry’s outcome as Kyle was, Joy blurted out, “What was it that he swallowed?”

  “A hunk of aluminum foil.” Becky pursed her lips. “We got it out, and he should be good as new in a few days.”

  “Aluminum foil.” Kyle lifted his hands in an of course gesture. “I threw away some leftover chicken wrapped in foil last night. I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.”

  “What did I say about not blaming yourself?” Joy gave a well-meaning backhand to his arm. “Now that you know Henry is a garbage sneak, you’ll take the proper precautions.”

  He let out a chuckle, probably more as a stress release than because he found her comment particularly witty.

  “Thank you,” he said to Becky. Then he turned to Joy. “Both of you.”

  His gaze latched onto hers and for a moment she was caught up in a vortex of sincere charm wrapped in good looks and tied up with a ribbon of humility. And just in time for Christmas, too.

  “Joy, don’t you need to go get your kids?”

  Becky’s reminder snapped Joy back to her very real reality. Kyle looked at her, a flash of something crossing his face. Not disappointment, but maybe surprise.

  She looked at the clock. Ten after five? “Oh, man.”

  Darting around the counter so fast she practically had to skid to a halt, Joy mentally calculated how much time she could shave off if she ran all the lights and pushed the speed limit.

  As she scooped up her things and made a dash for the door, she overheard Becky telling Kyle that Dr. Collins wanted to keep an eye on Henry over the weekend and that he would probably be able to pick him up on Monday.

  She flung open the door and turned, catching his eye one more time.

  He flashed her a smile, and her heart did a funny ka-kunk.

  Boy, she could really be in trouble.

  Kyle couldn’t help but watch out the window as the receptionist got into a minivan and pulled onto Fifteenth Avenue. Joy. What a perfect name for her. And a big shout-out to the inventor of nametags.

  Saying something about getting a copy of his statement, the vet’s assistant went back behind the counter. “And as soon as Dr. Collins is done with the post-op, you can go in and see Henry.”

  Kyle nodded absently. If she had noticed that his attention had been divided ever since Joy had left, she’d been too polite to let on.

  It had been so long since he’d been drawn to a woman that he had forgotten how good it could feel. Sure, he had women flirt with him all the time, but that was all it was. The fact that Joy hadn’t done that—that she had actually engaged in a conversation with him that didn’t involve any giggling or flipping of the hair or batting of the eyes—left him wanting to get to know her better.

  He was tired of women who tried so hard to be attractive that they wound up looking like wax figure renditions of themselves. It made him wonder what to expect when they finally let their guard down or ran out of mascara. But Joy…she was just real. He liked that.

  As he approached the counter, the vet’s assistant took what he assumed was his statement out of the printer and set it on the desk, then headed back to the exam area. “I’ll just go check on her progress.”

  Kyle leaned on the counter. Right now, he felt like the luckiest dog in the place, even though he didn’t really believe in luck. It had been fortuitous that Joy had reminded him about the importance of prayer right when he needed it the most. God seemed to use people that way. Kyle had to admit that he’d gotten so caught up in making plans for his new business that he had slacked off on including the One who was in charge of it all. He shook his head. He knew better. Why had he forgotten how important it was to pray?

  He huffed out a small laugh. Maybe that was why God had let this whole thing today go down the way it did. Because He knew Kyle would listen to whatever this wonderful woman had to say, and she happened to have a much-needed message for him.

  The trouble was, now he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her.

  Of course, he couldn’t ignore that she had kids. Not that that would be a deterrent. He wanted a family himself, and however God might provide was okay by him. The thing was that even though she didn’t have a ring on her finger, kids usually meant a husband. And considering her line of work, it was possible that she might leave her ring at home.

  Sighing, he reached down for his statement. When he did, he happened to notice a series of framed photos on the side of the desk she’d been sitting at. A quick glance at the door to the back area confirmed that he had a moment to steal a closer look, and he leaned over just enough to get a good view of the images.

  There was a double frame with a little boy on one side, and a girl on the other. Cute kids. The second frame held a shot of Joy with her arms around the same two kids. Then the third was a picture of Joy with a woman who looked a lot like her but a few years younger. A sister, probably.

  So…no man in the pictures. Did that mean there was no “man in the picture”?

  He straightened, fingering the paper and pondering the situation. The last thing he wanted to be was the creepy guy who asked her co-workers for personal details about her. Maybe, if he timed Henry’s pickup when the clinic wasn’t busy, he’d at least have an opportunity to talk to her again.

  Then, as hard as it was, he’d have to be content leaving it in God’s hands.

  Joy waited patiently at a table next to the window of Streebecks, the coffee shop in the heart of downtown Seattle where her sister worked as a shift manager. Even though Victoria had said she’d be done at noon and it was now ten after, Joy didn’t mind. She’d been a woman of leisure since a quarter to eleven, when Mike had finally shown up for the kids, and the opportunity to sip a peppermint latte and watch the shoppers duck in out of the rain for a caffeinated pick-me-up felt like a luxury.

  “Sorry.” Tugging on her rose-petal-pink raincoat, Victoria wended her way through the maze of tables and chairs to get to Joy.

  “No worries.” Joy stood, rebuttoning her lilac grey Burberry trench coat that she’d snagged at an estate sale years ago and hardly ever wore because it required dry cleaning. “I’m in a kid-free Zen mode.”

  “That’s great, but I don’t want to keep Wendy waiting.” Victoria looked out the window, making a face at the gentle rain that had only moments before emboldened itself into a downpour. “You ready?” She pulled her hood over her carefully-coifed chestnut-brown hair.

  “You bet.” Joy grabbed her umbrella and her coffee, then followed Victoria’s lead.

  Once outside, she handed Victoria her cup so she could open her umbrella. “What time did you tell her?”

  “I told her I work till noon. She said that by the time we got there, she’d have some options picked out for us to look at.”

  Joy eyed her sideways as they stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change. “And you believe her?”

  Victoria tilted her a raised-brow gaze but said nothing. The light turned green, and they joined the rest of the pedestrians in their umbrella-huddled dash across the street.

  Less than a minute later, they darted into Made to Inspire, a home décor store that specialized in handmade and one-of-a-kind items and was the place to go for unique Christmas decorations.

  Joy clutche
d her cup and her closed-and-dripping umbrella and surveyed the crowded shop. “I don’t see her.” She trailed Victoria down one of the aisles, craning her head to see around a large tree that held an assortment of handcrafted ornaments.

  “Neither do I, but she’ll be here.” While Victoria’s words conveyed confidence, the tension in her shoulders said otherwise. “Besides, we can get some ideas while we wait.”

  “In other words, by the time she gets here, we’ll have some options picked out for her to look at.”

  “What happened to your Zen mode?”

  Joy resisted a groan. Wendy—Victoria’s friend-of-a-friend wedding planner—had been the cause of more complications than the manager of them. And it had fallen to Joy as maid of honor to clean up her messes.

  “You know, Vic.” Joy tried not to get distracted by a display of handcrafted doll clothes that her seven-year-old daughter would go nuts over. “It’s not too late to hire a wedding planner who’s a little more…what’s the word? Experienced?”

  “Wendy will be fine.” Victoria had stopped at a table filled with candles and greenery. “Come on. Help me look for centerpieces.”

  “Well, so far she’s scared off two caterers and accidentally ordered invitations with giraffes and zebras on them. So unless you’re planning on starving your guests and getting married at the zoo, I think you can find someone who’s a little more competent.”

  “You know, normally I’d agree with you.” She waved a hand at the cranberry-colored lantern Joy had picked up. “Too much red. But she’s trying so hard to get her business off the ground. I get the feeling she’s had a rough time in life.”

  “That might be true, but this is your wedding.” Holding up a handmade candle encased in cinnamon sticks, Joy inhaled the luscious scent. “It’s not your responsibility to help this woman get her business off the ground. That’s up to her.”

  “I know.” She frowned at the candle. “Too Christmassy. But something about her just makes me feel like I need to be patient with her.” She winced as Joy held up a gold candlestick with a cut glass votive holder on its top. “Not Christmassy enough. I can’t explain it. I’ve been praying about it.”