The smell of wet dog assailed him before he spotted the brownish animal curved on its side.
“She arrived just as I was locking up,” Amy said. “She looked so pitiful and cold, I brought her in.”
The dog paid them no mind as her sides heaved.
“She’s having puppies.”
“Looks that way.”
Rafe hunkered down next to the animal and stroked her ears. “Hey, old girl. Rough night?” To Amy he said, “What are you going to do with her?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t throw her out.”
At that moment, the dog heaved again and delivered a tiny puppy.
“Oh.” Amy’s breathy gasp had Rafe watching her face. “Rafe, look.”
“I’m looking.” At you. At the tenderness in your eyes, the kindness I fell in love with, the wonder we share at the beauty of God’s creation.
She clasped her hands below her chin in a kind of excited prayer. “Here comes another.”
Rafe tugged her down to the floor where they sat cross-legged and watched in silence as four puppies were born. Though weary, the mother dog stayed busy, nuzzling and cleaning and urging the squirming babies to nourishment.
It was special, Rafe thought, to sit here on chilly tile with Amy and share this moment. Only a few lights, mostly of the village in the display window and the bulb over the counter, remained on. Music from Dana’s stereo played in the background, an Amy Grant song he recognized, “Breath of Heaven.”
“Know what this reminds me of?” he asked, voice hushed.
“What?” She turned her face his direction and his pulse leaped. Foolish thing.
“A long ago night in Bethlehem when a very young woman had no place to have her baby.”
“Oh, Rafe.” She touched his knee. “What a lovely thought. Right here at Christmas.” She glanced back at the dog. “No room at the inn.”
“Imagine that night, how scary the situation must have been for Mary and Joseph. Away from home and family, not knowing anyone, unable to find shelter.”
“And she was in labor.”
Rafe took hold of her hand, rewarded when she didn’t pull away. “They still use caves as shelter in the Middle East, particularly for animals.”
“I didn’t know that.”
He fiddled with her fingers, lifting each one, loving the feel of her small softness. “I thought about those things a lot when I was there. About how the most special baby ever born had such humble beginnings.”
“King of kings,” she whispered. “Born in a stable with only rags for a blanket.”
“And two people who believed in God’s word against all odds.” He shifted toward her, intuitively rubbing her third finger where his ring had once resided. It was Amy on his mind, Amy in his constant thoughts. Was God giving them a second chance?
“The Bible makes their choices seem easy, but they couldn’t have been, not in that society, not ever.”
Some choices were never easy. Not his decision to join the marines, not the decision to come home. He’d made the right choice to protect his country, but sometimes he wondered about the rest. Would Amy ever understand that he’d thought he was doing the right thing for her? That, even now, he wondered if he was being fair to her? Was it right to restart a relationship when the weakness he’d brought home from the war still lingered?
“I’d like to have their kind of faith,” he said. “Being there, in the Middle East, changed me, made God more real.”
Amy curled her fingers into his. “I’ve noticed.”
She had? He searched her face, wondering. In the past, they’d never talked much about faith.
“When I was a kid, the Christmas story was kind of a fairy tale to me, something that happened long ago and far away or maybe not at all.”
“What changed you?” She was serious, the amber eyes seeking. Did Amy struggle, as he did, with questions no one could answer?
He wondered what she’d say if he told her about the nightmares, about her little snowglobe that helped him sleep when the dreams wouldn’t. He didn’t, of course. A marine didn’t whine.
“Lots of things,” he said, gently massaging her palm with his thumb. “Mostly, Him. A man can spend a lot of time praying and listening in a place like that.”
“You’re different,” she said, a statement that neither judged nor accepted.
The soft rooting sounds of newborn puppies drew their attention back to the sweet scene of mother and babies. He didn’t release her hand and though her fingers relaxed, she didn’t tug them free.
A pulse beat of tenderness thrummed in his chest, both for the animals and for the woman.
What would Amy say if he told her of his feelings? That he wanted another chance to make things right? In recent days they’d formed a fledgling friendship, a new beginning on a different plane. Would it be better to leave well enough alone and not risk losing her altogether? On the other hand, would he ever find contentment in Snowglobe if he didn’t try?
He drew in a breath of air tinged with ginger and pine and new puppies. Alone with her, here in the empty store with only the hum of the furnace, the rare wash of lights from a passing car, and the silent snowfall against the windows, anything seemed possible.
“Amy?” he said, and then cleared his throat.
She pulled her hand away, a loss he felt clear to the center of his heart, and pushed to a stand. “I know what you’re going to say. We need to get home before the weather worsens. Right?”
His courage, never a problem before, flagged. Heaviness invaded his chest, and he knew his heart was making its own choices.
He stood, too, and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Right.”
Chapter Eight
The expected blizzard didn’t happen, though enough snow had fallen in the night to convince Amy and her mother to bundle up and walk the few blocks to the shop until the snowplow could do its work.
“Did you and Jeffrey have a nice time in Kalispell?”
“We did.” Dana fiddled with her scarf, a bright splash of red against the white snow and black coat. “I hope I didn’t disturb you when I got home.”
The time had been pretty late, much later than Amy’s arrival. “I was glad you made it safely in this weather.”
“Jeffrey’s a good driver. Very experienced. I wasn’t worried a bit.” Whenever she spoke of Jeffrey, Dana’s face lit up, her voice filled with airy optimism. Amy hoped Jeffrey was all he seemed to be. The Caldwell women hadn’t had much luck choosing dependable men. “Did everything go okay at the shop?”
“Fine. Well, almost fine.”
Her mom shot her a concerned look. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She told about the mother dog.
“Oh, honey, you left a dog in the shop all night?”
“What else could I do, Mom? She had babies.”
Dana picked up her pace. “She’ll destroy the place. Oh, my goodness.”
Amy followed along, puffing clouds of fog in the frigid weather, wishing she’d let Rafe take the dogs somewhere. He’d offered but she’d refused, worried about taking the puppies out into the night air.
They reached the shop in record time and Dana quickly unlocked the door, flipped a light and rushed inside.
“They’re behind the counter,” Amy said. At least, she hoped they were still there.
Before they reached the spot, the mother dog met them, anxious-eyed as she streaked for the door.
“She needs out,” Amy said, turning the knob. The dog rushed into the cold.
“I hope she returns for these—oh, look how precious.” The irritation in Mom’s tone seeped away. “Look at those little darlings.”
Four chubby pups of various colors lay in a tangle, sleeping.
“I ha
ve no idea what to do with them.”
“Call the paper and put in a lost dog ad. Maybe put up some flyers. You can also call Tim Coggins at the police station and ask if anyone has reported a missing dog.” Mom crouched beside the pups. Amy suppressed a giggle. Puppies had a way about them.
“What if we put them in the display window with a sign? It’s low enough for the mother to climb in and out.” Amy asked. “Everyone in town passes here at some point.”
Mom glanced up. “My daughter is brilliant. Let’s do it. We can fix a basket or box, decorate it up for Christmas, put a bright red bow around the mother’s neck. Even if no one claims them, the puppies will attract enough attention to eventually find homes.”
She said not a word about the damage a dog and puppies might do to the gorgeous window display. Mom had a bigger soft spot than her daughter.
In a short time, they’d prepared a tidy bed right in the middle of the lighted Christmas village and transported the pups. When the mother dog reentered the shop, the wiggling, mewling puppies drew her straight to them.
“I’ve wondered forever what to do with that oversize wicker basket.”
“Now we know.”
That day they did more business than they’d done the previous three. Everyone stopped to see the puppies and stayed to shop.
“We should reopen tonight after the tree-lighting ceremony,” Dana said as she cellophaned a fruit basket. “Business should be great.”
“Can’t. I promised Rafe I’d help with the sleigh rides.” And eat pizza and talk about house plans. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of spending all evening with Rafe.
“What about Mr. Ingerson? He gave the sleigh rides last year.”
“He’s still bringing his sleigh and horses like always. Rafe’s taking the foster care kids for a special ride, carols and hot cocoa at the church.”
“That Rafe. He’s a jewel.”
True. Rafe’s hero gene kicked in for the downtrodden. A bitter root boiled in Amy’s throat and she fought to swallow it. The whole world was more important to Rafe than she had ever been. He’d proved that when he’d gone into to the military, when he’d gone off to save the world from the bad guys. Now that he was back, his hero gene still ran at top speed.
Why had he invited her along tonight? As a way to apologize or to make her feel better about the past? Somehow that wasn’t enough. She’d trusted two men with her whole heart—Dad and Rafe—and both had let her down.
Last night with Rafe and the puppies, a closeness had sprung up between them, and she’d yearned for the past when she’d relied on him without question. The conversation about Mary and Joseph and Rafe’s deepening faith had her thinking, too. She wanted to trust that the new, mature Rafe was different.
The cash register pinged as Dana opened it to count the day’s till. “You should give him another chance.”
Amy’s head jerked up. “What?”
“Rafe. He’s trying to win you back.”
Her pulse bumped. “You think so?”
“Would you be opposed if he were?”
“I don’t know. What if it happens again?”
Dana’s hand stilled on the register drawer. “Are you willing to spend forever holding yourself away from love because you’re scared?”
“No, but...” She shook her head, unsure.
Mom shoved the drawer shut with a thwack. “What do you feel for Rafe beyond the fear of getting hurt again?”
Amy picked up bits of paper and ribbon and random trash from the countertop. “Something, definitely something.”
“Then start there. Don’t rush. You’ve got all the time in the world. Feel your way along until your faith in him is strong again, until you know whether he’s the one or not.” Mom pulled her into a hug. “And honey, pray about it. God wants you happy again and so do I. He will lead you.”
Amy returned the hug, a soothing balm, as she breathed in the spicy essence of her mother.
Could she do as Mom said? Did she dare put her heart out for Rafe to break one more time? And did God even care one way or the other?
* * *
Spurts of childish laughter and excited conversation swirled up into the air along with the powdery snow. A dozen kids of varying ages and types crowded onto Rafe’s wagon sleigh.
The two looked gorgeous, and Amy was feeling mellow and full of good cheer as she helped Rafe load a group of foster children into his sleigh. On her way here, she’d run into a former high school classmate, Sara Kincaid, and they’d had a delightful conversation. Amy had been thrilled to reconnect and even happier to see the glow of pleasure when Sara smiled at her date, Owen Larsen. After all she’d been through, Sara and her daughter deserved some happiness. Judging by his tender glances at Sara, Amy had a feeling Owen and his little girl were the ones to give it.
Amy’s good mood expanded, warming her from the inside out. Maybe love was in the air this Christmas.
The borrowed draft horses waited patiently, each with a cocked hind foot, while the humans boarded. Amy climbed up, too, her nose cold but her heart warm, while Rafe moved among the children, snugging heavy blankets over laps and legs.
He shot a grin toward Amy. “Ready?”
Thinking about her mom’s advice, she returned the smile. “As I’ll ever be.”
At the irony of her words, she looked away, busying herself with retucking a little blonde girl with freckles.
“Come on up,” Rafe called, patting the long wagon seat next to him. “Let’s get this show on the road before our jingle bells freeze.”
The kids snickered. Amy settled in next to Rafe and with a shake of the reins, they were off. Rafe guided the animals clip-clopping through the streets, past the newly lighted Colorado spruce in the center of town where the high school band still serenaded with a concert. Amy turned to face the riders and urged the children to sing along.
An off-key chorus filled the wagon with the lyrics to “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”
Rafe’s baritone, full of laughter, joined her soprano. Sides pressed together, she felt the vibrations from his lungs, the warmth of his breath when he angled his face toward her.
They hit a bump and one wagon wheel dipped. The kids’ surprised screams quickly turned to giggles except for one child, who started to cry. Amy picked her way to the little boy, who couldn’t have been more than six.
Squeezing in next to him, she put an arm around the dark-eyed child. “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe.”
“I’m scared. I want my mama.”
Not knowing the boy’s situation, she didn’t know what to say. Then the older boy sitting behind them leaned up and whispered, “His mom’s in jail. He ain’t got no dad.”
Amy’s heart squeezed with compassion. She huddled closer to the boy. “What’s your name?”
The boy sniffed. “Robby.”
By now, Rafe was looking back. “Problem?”
“Robby got a little scared.”
Rafe drew back the reins and stopped the wagon. Rising from the seat, his tall body lean and honed, he came to kneel beside Robby and Amy. “Hey, little buddy. Don’t be scared. You ever heard of the marines?”
Amy’s stomach curled inward. Marines. Not her favorite topic.
But the little boy stared at Rafe, impressed. “Like army guys?”
“Yes, sir. Close enough. We take care of people.” Using his thumbs, he wiped Robby’s cheeks. “Especially kids.”
The little boy sniffed as he studied the former marine and found reassurance. “Can I sit by you?”
“Sure can.” Robby slid off the wooden seat, latched onto Rafe’s extended hand and followed him to the front.
Amy’s heart turned over at the sight of the man with the boy. Even though Rafe’s status as a former marine brought back ugl
y memories for Amy, it soothed the little boy and she was glad for that.
Gaze trusting, Robby listened to something Rafe said. With an eager nod, the boy climbed in front, between Rafe’s knees, and took hold of the reins.
Rafe was letting Robby drive the wagon. The experienced horses could probably drive themselves, but just in case, Rafe kept his hands behind Robby’s.
He would make a great dad. But then, she’d thought the same about her own father.
Biting down on her lip, Amy struggled against the negative thoughts. She had to stop this. If they were to ever have another chance, she had to stop throwing up walls of protection. Sing, she thought. Sing!
“Join me,” she yelled to the children, breath a foggy cloud. “Come on, everyone. It’s Christmas!”
She chose the liveliest tunes she knew, getting the kids to stomp and clap. When she divided the wagon into twelve groups, assigning each group one of the twelve days of Christmas, they ended in laughter and total confusion.
“Do it again. Again!” the kids shouted.
Amy shot a glance toward Rafe, who looked back with a grin. “I could use some company up here,” he said, hitching his chin toward the vacant space at his side. “Me and my buddy need a wind block.”
Though her toes tingled with cold, her insides warmed. “Is that supposed to lure me?”
His grin widened. “Whatever it takes to get you up here.”
* * *
Rafe watched as Amy made her way through the rows of kids, teasing, patting shoulders, giving hugs. She was coming toward him, to be with him. His imagination went crazy for a minute and he saw her with their children. In the house he would build, the house that had never been for him. At least, not him alone. It had been for her and he hadn’t known it until this moment.
So this was what the Lord had been trying to get through his thick skull. A rich, thrumming assurance filled his chest.
He loved her. Deeper, stronger, better than before, he loved her.
Chapter Nine
The week before Christmas Dana kept The Snowglobe Gift Shoppe open late. Business was brisk, the puppies a popular draw that had garnered an article in the weekly newspaper. To her delight, Sara Kincaid and Owen Larsen had stopped in with their little girls. Janey and Mia were crazy about the puppies, but from all appearances, Owen and Sara had eyes only for each other. Though no one had claimed the dogs, all four fat, healthy puppies were spoken for. The mother, aptly named Ginger because of her brindle color and Christmas arrival, endeared herself to everyone with good manners and a sweet disposition. Amy had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to let go of Ginger.
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