Dachshund Through the Snow

by Roxanne St Claire

  Was this Gala? Much too thin to be Pyggie. She wanted to say the dog’s name, but she couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t…good heavens, her feet were not touching anything.

  Was she flying?

  The dog barked again, and instinct made Agnes close her fist around a collar and let him lead her…somewhere. For a long time, it was just more blackness. They walked, maybe glided, maybe floated, she didn’t know and, honestly, didn’t care. The air was sweet and gentle, and the whole place was dark, but…like sheer contentment wrapped around her.

  Then she saw the light. A pinpoint at first, like a tiny laser beam a hundred miles away. The dog saw it, too, barking again and urging her forward. It felt like she was running now, still not actually touching anything under her feet, no air brushing by, and no need to even catch her breath.

  She had no breath. But somewhere, far away, like a million miles, she heard something hiss. A soft, distant scream. A man’s voice delivering a rough order. The sound of chaos and…death.

  Wherever she was now, the body she left behind just expired.

  For the first time, Agnes got scared, but the light point had grown exponentially, shedding a yellow-gold beam and finally letting her see that she was in a long, long hallway, and her companion was a small brown short-haired dachshund. Not Pyggie or Gala, but…

  “Charis.”

  She heard the word, distinct and close, and looked from side to side to hear who’d spoken it. The voice wasn’t male or female or familiar or…human.

  “Charis.”

  The dog barked, suddenly slowing down to paw at Agnes. Charis. Is that your name, puppy? She thought the question and got a bark and wagging tail in response.

  Charis.

  Still drawn to the golden light, she tried to remember what the word charis meant in Greek, letting her mind slip back to classes she took on Sundays after church. Charis…meant grace, mercy, forgiveness. The root of charity. The act of kindness. A gift freely given, like grace, mercy, and forgiveness.

  Was she getting all that after all?

  Joy, tangible and unfamiliar, shot through her with an otherworldly kind of power. She was! She was getting charis!

  The dog barked and howled as if he could read her thoughts and wanted to confirm this fact. This little dachshund was her escort to heaven! Agnes knew that to be so without a shadow of a doubt, soaring toward the light that was growing brighter, bolder, whiter, and closer.

  She followed the furry body, her eyes on his snout and floppy ears. Charis was taking her to heaven.

  Nico would be there! The thought of her son, yanked from life by cancer before he could even see one of his children married, made her fly faster. And Nik. Nikodemus Santorini with his big voice and even bigger heart. Of course he’d be here. And Mama and…Baba. Maybe Baba. She hoped so. She hoped they were all there, waiting for her on the other side of that light.

  The dog barked. Yes, Charis, yes. Take me there!

  And suddenly, they stopped. So close to the light Agnes could reach out and touch it, but her arm wouldn’t move. Neither would her legs. Everything stopped.

  Please, can I go in?

  The dog took a few steps forward, bathed in golden light, looking up with sweet brown eyes that said it all. All the nasty words, all the short tempers, all the cold manipulations, all the times she’d made herself safe and distant and…rotten.

  She could see it all in that dog’s eyes. And he was saying…do better.

  But it’s too late! I can’t do better. I can’t…I’m dead now!

  A searing pain shot through her shoulder, like a white-hot poker stabbed directly through her lungs. Something pressed on her face, cold and wet, forcing air into her chest. A man’s voice spoke unintelligible words, loud and furious, at her. She could taste metal and smell death, and everything hurt so much she could not bear it.

  She was going to hell. It was so clear now. She was going to the wrong place, where there was no Nico or Nik or Mama. Paying for every unkind word. Every short response. Every ugly, nasty thing she’d ever done after a lifetime of doing so many. The only person there would be…Norman Anderson. No! No, don’t make me pay forever. Not him, not that!

  She got one last glimpse of the dog who had such promise and hope in his sweet little face.

  Please take me, Charis. Take me to that light and—

  Her body shook as if someone had stomped on her chest.

  “Is she alive? Did that work?” Carol’s voice floated around her head.

  “Back off, ma’am, we’re trying again. She’s been clinically dead for six minutes, but…”

  “Ready?”

  “Ready. Clear!”

  Whoompf! A force jolted her so hard she felt like her arms had been yanked from her body. Electricity zipped through her veins, sparking and hot. And she sucked in a breath so deep and sharp, it should have burst her lungs.

  And suddenly, she could see. A man inches from her face and another one right next to him. And the ceiling of Olive Garden.

  Oh no. She was on the floor at Olive Garden?

  No, on a stretcher. And there were so many people gathered around. Voices. Noises. Sirens.

  “She’s awake! We have a pulse!”

  A roar that sounded like she was standing in Madison Square Garden deafened her. Someone squealed. Someone sobbed. Someone muttered thanks to God.

  Finally, her eyes focused on the man in front of her. Young, with blue eyes and dark hair.

  “Welcome back, Agnes,” he said, his voice gentle and warm. “You’re quite a lucky lady. You get another chance at all this.”

  Another chance. Another chance?

  This time, she’d do better. This time, she’d be kind and loving and sweet. This time, she’d treat other people…differently.

  And then next time…would Charis take her to the light?

  She blinked, unable to talk due to the oxygen mask pressing on her face. But now she had complete clarity.

  “Now let’s get you to the hospital, ma’am. You’ve survived a heart attack that would have killed most people. Must not be your time yet.”

  But…when would her time come? And would she be ready? Would she get into the light?

  She didn’t know. But she did know that whatever time she had, Agnes Mastros Santorini would be a changed woman, inside and outside. And while she was on this earth, she would find Charis, who would be a constant reminder to…do better.

  But what did that mean? It had to be more than a kind word. It had to be more than holding her tongue. Wasn’t the very idea of grace and charity to not hold a person accountable, to have mercy? Then why had she come back?

  Because she had a purpose on this earth.

  But what was it?

  As they rolled her into the back of an ambulance, Carol and Linda and Barbara walked along, all of them cooing and crying. Agnes managed to lift her fingers in a halfhearted wave, which sent them all into another bout of sobbing.

  They cared about her that much? That was more than just tears about the struggle to find a good canasta sub.

  Yes, there were people who cared about her. A family in North Carolina, for starters. A daughter-in-law who ached for the loss of Nico as much as Agnes did and five beautiful grandchildren. And Pyggie and Gala.

  And…Charis.

  That dog was…her guide. She had to find him, and he would lead her to her purpose. And in the meantime, just in case, she had to do better.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “There’s Mom.” Pru pointed toward the opening of the coffee tent where the three of them sat, huddled with the stroller, sipping hot chocolate and listening to Yiayia’s jaw-dropping story. “Is there more?” she asked as she threw a wave to her mother.

  “More?” Gramma wiped her eyes under her glasses. “This old heart can’t take any more.”

  Yiayia managed a smile. “Now you know why I showed up in Bitter Bark, and the whole Santorini clan claimed I’d changed, and it wasn’t just the th
irty-some pounds I lost to save my ticker.”

  “You have changed,” Pru said. “I mean, I didn’t know you before, but I can’t even imagine you talking to your friends the way you describe.”

  “That’s just part of it,” Yiayia said.

  “And the dog?” Pru asked. “I get that’s why you wanted Rover, because it sounds like he was a dead ringer for this Charis, but what’s he going to do? Take you back there?”

  “Remind me of how I should act.”

  “If it’s real, ’tis not an act,” Gramma whispered.

  “And do you really need a reminder?” Pru asked. “I mean, Gramma Finnie’s pretty good at keeping you on track, and sometimes it seems Cassie is, too.”

  “Cassie knows. I told her the story when we were stuck in the basement that day she broke her foot and I thought I had another heart attack,” Yiayia said. “But I’ve always felt that finding the dog was part of why I was sent back. Maybe that’s my purpose. Maybe he’ll lead me to it.”

  Finnie leaned closer. “Agnes, we discussed your purpose the day we decided to live together. You told me your purpose is to help me find fairy-tale endings for all of our many grandchildren, remember?” She added a sly grin. “We’re two-for-two, and I really think we need to work on Connor.”

  “Connor?” Pru snorted. “Man, you Dogmothers like a challenge. Connor Mahoney is so single, it hurts. Plus, do you really think there’s a woman in Bitter Bark whose heart he hasn’t smashed?”

  The conversation ended as Pru’s mother came over, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “Where’s my little superstar?”

  “He was awesome, Mom.”

  “I heard! I just ran into some people who were at the play. They said he’ll be getting a Tony for sure.” Her laugh faded as she got closer and eyed the three of them. “You guys don’t exactly look mired in Christmas cheer. Everything okay?”

  “Right as rain, lass.” Gramma pushed up, adjusting her Mrs. Claus jacket. “But we’re terribly late for Christmas Eve dinner.”

  “We can go straight there, unless you want to go home and change.”

  “Our party clothes are on under this.” Yiayia rubbed the red velvet, sagging now that she’d taken out her pillow belly. “But I have to admit, it’s been warm and comfy.”

  “Great.” Mom reached into the carriage. “I know he’s sleeping, but…” She picked up the baby and nuzzled him, her eyes sparking as they always did when she held him. “I missed my little guy. And…” She winked at Pru. “My little girl. Things any better, hon?”

  “I saw Teagan,” she said. “I’ll tell you everything in the car on the way to Waterford. Are all our presents packed?”

  “Some are in my car, and your dad took the rest over.” She gently eased the baby, who was still sleeping, back into the stroller. “Come on, girls. It’s Christmas Eve!”

  The three of them exchanged a sort of sad smile, and Pru fought a sigh. Yiayia’s story was amazing, but a little scary. What if she didn’t get to go back? What if she should have had the dog? What if…what if Pru never saw Teagan again?

  This just didn’t feel like a spectacular Christmas, but she did her best to hide that from her mom.

  It wasn’t that difficult once they got to Waterford Farm. Like every other Christmas in Pru’s entire life, the homestead on a hundred acres that also included one of the best canine rescue and training facilities in the state was decked out for the holiday and rocking with a houseful of family.

  But this year it looked extraordinary.

  As they walked into the kitchen, already packed and noisy, Pru’s mother sucked in a soft breath and stopped, taking it all in. There were uncles, aunts, and cousins everywhere, lights flickering in every room, and plenty of the beloved Jameson’s flowing for the adults. Christmas carols rang from speakers no one could see, platters of food were spread on every surface, and the sound of raucous, happy laughter and barking dogs echoed through every room of the rambling farmhouse.

  “What is it, Mom?” Pru whispered.

  “It’s so…different this year.”

  It was, but she couldn’t quite figure out why. “Well, there are more of us, that’s for sure, since Grandpa married Katie Santorini.”

  “It’s not just that.” Mom looked at her with sparkly tears in her eyes. “We’ve had some good Christmases the last few years.”

  “Well, last year we were in a cabin in the mountains giving birth to puppies,” Pru reminded her sheepishly, since that was all Pru and Gramma Finnie’s fault.

  “And the year before, we pretended to lose a puppy because Aidan came home from Afghanistan.”

  Pru nodded, smiling. “That was a good Christmas, too.”

  “But this…”

  Grandpa Daniel came over to greet them, a smile stretched across his face. He always looked like that now, ever since he met Katie and finally healed from the loss of Grannie Annie.

  “That’s the difference,” Molly whispered. “He’s happy again.”

  “Merry Christmas to my beautiful girls.” He enveloped them both in a huge hug. “What do you think about this place, huh? Did Katie do amazing things, Molls?”

  “She did, Dad.” Mom inched back and put her hand on Grandpa’s cheek, her eyes all full of affection like when she picked up baby Danny or looked at Pru’s father. “She did amazing things for you.”

  Grandpa’s smile faltered. “Don’t make me tear up on Christmas Eve,” he warned, turning to the stroller. “Now, where’s my little namesake?”

  While they fussed over the baby, Pru slipped away to give a hug to cousin Ella, who was technically her second cousin, possibly once removed—they could never figure it out. Whatever, she was looking festive in a gold top with her short hair spiked and giant ornament earrings dangling to her shoulders.

  “You’re rockin’ it, Smella,” she teased, using the nickname only Ella’s three older brothers could usually get away with.

  Ella gave Pru a sideways look. “And I see you made no effort,” she teased.

  “I was in charge of baby Jesus at the church play,” she said on a laugh. “And I’ve been traipsing around Bitter Bark all day on a wild goose—er, dog chase.”

  “A dog?” Cassie, along with her brand-new husband, Braden, came up to join them. “Why were you chasing a dog?”

  “You know, that dachshund Yiayia wants, but we didn’t get him.”

  Cassie turned to say something to Braden, but Pru put her hand on her arm. “Cass, your mom has made a big difference here. Tonight feels really special.”

  “I was just saying that,” Braden said. “I haven’t seen this many lights in Waterford on Christmas Eve since…” He gave a sad smile.

  “Since my aunt Annie died,” Ella finished, putting her arm around Cassie. “The Santorinis are a good addition to this Irish mess, don’t you think, Pru?”

  “I do,” she agreed, turning when little Christian powered into the room and came right at her.

  “Pwu! Wait till you see—”

  “Shhh!” Cassie grabbed his shoulder. “It’s a surprise for everyone.”

  “A surprise?” Pru choked softly. “Last time you had a surprise, it was your wedding.”

  She looked up at Braden, one of Pru’s absolute favorite cousins. A firefighter like his brothers, Connor and Declan, Braden had a heart of gold and an easy laugh. “It’s nothing that shocking, right, Einstein?” Cassie teased.

  “It’s pretty shocking,” he said on a laugh, giving Christian’s head a rub. “And mum’s the word, or Santa will be really upset.”

  Christian’s eyes narrowed. “Santa’s not—”

  Ella bent over and got right in his face. “Oh yes, he is, baby cakes, so don’t even think about saying what you’re about to say. You have little bitty cousins now, and only believers get what they ask for.”

  He smirked a little as his dad, Uncle Liam, and his mom, Aunt Andi, came over with wee Fee, as they called baby Fiona, toddling between them in a green velvet dress. They st
arted talking about the elf parade, then Shane and Chloe came over with Connor.

  “We need an elf parade in Bitter Bark,” Andi said. “It sure would be easier than driving to Holly Hills every year.”

  “Yeah,” Liam agreed. “Chloe, you should talk to your aunt. If Mayor Wilkins gets behind the idea, it’ll happen.”

  Chloe let out a sigh. “Except next year, she won’t be mayor.”

  “What?” At least three of them asked the question in unison.

  “I thought she loved being the mayor,” Andi said. “She took over when your uncle Frank died, and those were big mayor shoes to fill.”

  Chloe shrugged. “She’s stepping down early next year.”

  “Who’s going to replace her?” Liam asked.

  “Field’s wide open,” Chloe replied. “I was thinking about asking Daniel.”

  “I’d run,” Connor said. “I’d love to be mayor of this town.”

  Liam tilted his head, and Shane snorted. And the rest of them kind of stared in disbelief.

  “You do know adult women, many of whom are your sworn enemies, can vote,” Shane said.

  Connor slid him a look. “Of course. Women love me.”

  “A little too much,” Liam added with a wry smile.

  Pru looked around the room as they joked, her gaze landing on Gramma Finnie and Yiayia, sitting side by side at the kitchen table, deep in conversation…and looking at Connor.

  “Well, you better do something,” Pru said, “because two crazy Dogmothers have got you in their sights.”

  The whole group laughed and hooted, but Cassie and Braden just grinned.

  “Do not underestimate those women.” Cassie pointed to her brother Alex, who stood in a corner whispering to Grace Donovan, his partner in everything…thanks to the Dogmothers.

  “Nah, they’re working on John,” Connor said. “They know better than to try and tie me down.”

  “I think Declan should be next,” Braden said. “He’s the oldest Mahoney.”

  “I think I should be next,” Ella said. “I’m the prettiest Mahoney and haven’t had a date in ages.”

  “You’re not allowed to date, Smella.” Connor grinned at his sister. “’Cause none of us want to have to kill a guy.”