A Dog's Perfect Christmas

by W. Bruce Cameron

  “The older one is Calvin,” Sander observed.

  “That he is,” Claire agreed.

  Sander smiled. “Just pointing out how good I’m getting at remembering things I never thought were important. He’s six. He’s got your hair.”

  “My hair?”

  “Thick and dark, I mean. But you’ve got some red in yours, I think. Like, auburn.”

  “I’ve got some red I’ve put in mine, you mean.” Claire laughed.

  Sander plunged on determinedly. “Jenner’s younger than the twins, and he’s got my hair.” Sander pointed to his white, thin wisps.

  “Your expression looks as if you are complimenting me, Sander, but I am having trouble finding the flattery in your words.”

  Sander laughed.

  His phone vibrated. He reflexively pulled it out and sighed.

  “Everything okay?” Claire asked.

  He shook his head. “It’s Allison. She wants to get together to work things out between us. And I texted back, ‘What things?’”

  “Ah. So you text with Allison, and Lucille says you took her out to dinner two nights ago,” Claire observed with a glint in her clear eyes.

  Sander had to prevent himself from wincing. “Well, to be entirely accurate, Lucille took me out to dinner.”

  Claire regarded him with an odd smile. “You’re quite the popular one, aren’t you? There aren’t really any eligible men your age around here, you know. And by ‘eligible’ I mean normal, non-neurotic, kind, handsome. And then suddenly you burst onto the scene.”

  Sander wondered what “scene” she was talking about. The singles scene? The dating scene? “Until recently, I didn’t get out much,” he admitted. “As in, ever. Didn’t have much of a reason to, really. Then my daughter-in-law got sick and we all had to pitch in.” He gestured to the twins, who had abandoned the other children and were playing a game where they sprawled lengthwise across the swings and then tried to move back and forth to ram the crowns of their heads together. “It’s not bad, kid duty.”

  A long, comfortable pause followed. Sander couldn’t put a word to what he was feeling.… Was there such a thing as excited contentment?

  “I’m hearing now that when a man wants to kiss a woman, he’s got to ask permission,” he speculated idly, the thought coming out of nowhere.

  This broadened her smile. “You say it like that’s a bad thing,” she noted. “But is it, really? I think it’s fine that a man tests the waters, don’t you?”

  “Just sort of seems to take the fun out of it a little,” Sander grunted.

  Claire arched her eyebrows. “Oh, I promise you, if it gets to that, we will have fun.”

  Sander’s heart beat faster as they gazed at each other; then Claire’s expression turned serious. “You know, I was never a beauty contestant.”

  Sander frowned. “I think you’re beautiful,” he told her before he could consider the wisdom of such a statement. Because she was. It wasn’t just her clear complexion and remarkable eyes; there was a delightful exuberance he found damned appealing. Lucille impressed him too, but her perfect makeup and perfect hair and expensive clothing always felt a bit too much like packaging, somehow. And Allison had smiled once or twice and looked cute when she did so, but it was an expression she rarely deployed.

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Goss. But what I meant was, I never participated in one of those things where the women line up and compete for the crown against each other.”

  “I see,” Sander replied, even though he didn’t.

  “I’ve just noticed that, as far as Lucille and Allison are concerned, there’s some sort of competition going on. And I’m telling you, I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

  The whole situation was so ludicrous as to make Sander smile. He tried to picture how it could possibly be true that there were multiple women competing for him. Come on. I’m no ladies’ man.

  Claire cocked her head at him. “Do you understand what I’m saying, here? I’m not interested in trying to out-woman the other women.”

  “Oh.” What she was saying made perfect sense. Oddly, Sander’s first feeling was one of disappointment.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy your company,” she assured him, reaching out and touching his arm.

  “I like being with you too.”

  “Let’s just leave things like that, then. Until you get tired of playing the field, that is.”

  That seemed significant. She nodded at the question implicit in his expression. “Oh, I’m saying I’m interested, Sander. Very. You’re kind to your grandchildren. You have a good sense of humor—meaning, you laugh at my jokes.” She grinned. “I find it easy and free being with you.”

  Their eyes locked, and Sander felt the floor of his stomach drop out. He was the first to look away. “Guess I didn’t think about it that way—playing the field,” he confessed. “It was more that I went to the park, and the next thing I knew…” He shrugged.

  The kids were getting tired; Sander could tell by the way Ewan was kicking at the snow, trying to spray his brother with it as they pendulumed back and forth on the swings. There was a lethargy to his actions, like suddenly he was only going through the motions of being a rampaging toddler.

  “It was about two years after my Bill died. My husband. Two years before I felt as if I were back in control of my life—that instead of things happening to me, pushing me around like a bully, I could make my own choices.” Claire patted his arm. “Forgive me for saying so, but I think you’re where I was: past the two-year mark. You can seize control of your destiny. It just depends what you want.”

  Sander nodded.

  What did he want?

  Suddenly, with the sound of an axe hitting wood, his grandsons succeeded in smashing their skulls together like atoms in a particle collider. Their faces slack with shock, they ran straight across the snowy field, crying “Crampa! Crampa!” and dove tearfully into his welcoming lap. He kissed their crowns to make them better and held them while they sobbed it out. The fullness in his heart made him smile.

  When he glanced Claire’s way, she wore an identical smile.

  * * *

  Hunter said he’d join his father for the nightly dog walk. Though the day had been overcast, a wind had punished the gray layer, fragmenting it; the stars were almost painfully bright in patches of the dark sky. Winstead and Ruby were much more interested in yellow stains in the snow.

  “Be Christmas in a week,” Hunter remarked.

  Sander agreed this was true.

  “How goes it with the widows?” Hunter teased. “Any updates?”

  “Had a nice time with Claire after preschool today. She’s an interesting person. She says she might be agreeable to something more—of a relationship, I mean—but only if I stop seeing Lucille and Allison and anybody else.”

  “Ah.”

  Sander nodded. “I get where she’s coming from, I suppose. She tells me she feels like she’s on ‘The Bachelor.’ I don’t know what that is.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “Apparently if you’re a woman over fifty in Traverse City, Michigan, you have to watch ‘The Bachelor.’ From what I gather, some guy’s put in a room with a bunch of women and after trying them all out he decides which one he’s going to marry.”

  “Marry? And this is a TV show?”

  “Yes, they actually get married, and then they’re on the cover of ‘People’ for six months. It’s reality TV.”

  “So this guy is introduced on camera to a bunch of women, and he has to choose one to marry, and that’s reality?”

  “I kid you not. So Claire says Allison and Lucille are just waiting for me to pick between them. Lucille’s trying to, uh, use her charms, and Allison is sort of trying to guilt me into it. Actually, Allison’s already ended the relationship twice—it’s sort of hard to tell with her.”

  Hunter laughed. They were rounding the block, heading back home. “Hey,” he said suddenly, “I want to thank you for putting out the Chr
istmas decorations. I completely forgot about those.”

  “Oh, that was Ello,” Sander corrected. “I pretty much just did whatever she commanded me to do.”

  “It’s the first Christmas tree we’ve ever had that we didn’t go get as a family,” Hunter mused ruefully.

  Sander related the story of the burlapped tree that unfolded its limbs in revealed perfection.

  Hunter laughed. “That’s so Ello. To feel like she has to rescue a tree.”

  As they walked on, his face turned serious.

  “What’s happened?” Sander inquired. “What did you just think of, to make you seem sad?”

  Hunter shrugged. “You know, Juliana’s illness sort of changed everything, but not really. I told you we were having difficulties before. She wants to be back working full-time, which for an attorney is like eighty hours. When she comes home, I think she’s still going to be ‘unhappy in the marriage.’”

  Sander blew a white cloud into the cold air, nodding. “That makes sense. Whatever was going on with you two will still be there when she recovers.”

  “I need to win her back, Dad,” Hunter declared urgently. “I can’t lose her.”

  “I understand.”

  “I think the best way to do that is to make this Christmas as perfect as possible. You know how she likes to get all of her details exactly right.”

  Sander cocked his head. “Really? I don’t believe that has anything to do with it, son.”

  “I have to try something.”

  Sander pondered things for a moment. “You’ve always been at war with yourself.… Did you ever think of that?”

  “Not sure I understand.”

  “I mean that you plan everything, write everything down, because at heart you’re a dreamer. Every morning when you leave, I go around the house fetching your coffee cups from all over.”

  Hunter chuckled sheepishly.

  “So you think you can control things if you make all these checklists, but you and Juliana are different. She does it because that’s who she is. Look, if you’re worried about losing your wife, don’t try to be more like her. You need to go back to being the man that she fell in love with in the first place.”

  Hunter speculatively regarded his father. “It was easier when I was broke. When I didn’t have a mortgage and a car payment and children and taxes, but was just struggling to get by after college. She was so beautiful, this Brazilian goddess who looked so different from all the other pasty-faced people here in Michigan. I was trying to figure out how to get close to her.… It was this time of year, in fact. And she was singing in a Christmas choir. So I joined it. I was the worst singer in the history of that whole choir. She kept laughing at me. And I knew, if I could just keep her laughing, I could win that girl. But,” Hunter confessed mournfully, “there really hasn’t been much laughter lately. Her day is such a grind, with the kids, the house. She’s a litigator, Dad. It’s like I’ve tied a racehorse to a milk wagon. I have to figure out what I’m going to do about that. Because if I don’t, I’m going to lose her for sure.”

  “You can do it, son. If you’re willing to try, you can do it.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  The dogs picked up their pace, recognizing the scent of home. They had been so excited to go for a walk, and now they were excited for it to be over.

  “Hey, you ready for tomorrow?” Hunter asked Sander.

  Sander grinned. “I’m ready.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Her first day out of the ICU and in a normal hospital room, Juliana was manic with the idea that she’d be seeing her sons after preschool. It was far too early for their arrival, but she was already awake, excited, unable to sleep. The noise surprised her when Hunter rapped his knuckles on her doorframe and entered, clutching flowers, his posture slightly tense.

  Juliana was puzzled. “Hunter?”

  He thrust the flowers out in front of him. She was able to move her arms now, and accepted the bouquet, holding it across her body like a beauty contestant. He seemed really nervous.

  “What’s going on, honey?” she asked, smelling the flowers.

  Hunter drew in a breath and began singing the Billy Preston song “You Are So Beautiful.” Years of disuse had not improved his singing voice. His rendition sounded like Joe Cocker being bitten by a dog.

  She couldn’t help but laugh, especially when he got lost in the lyrics and improvised: “With all that’s in our basement, with all that’s on our knees…”

  Thankfully he kept it short. She clapped at the end. “That was … special,” she assured him.

  “Want to hear another one?”

  She winced. “Oh, let’s not spoil the mood. I haven’t heard you sing in a long time. Do you remember when you started coming to my Christmas choir? I said I’d go out with you to get you to stop.”

  “I did that?” Hunter replied, his eyes sly.

  They were both smiling. Juliana’s arms were tube-free, so she raised them. “Come here, husband.”

  Hunter moved so gently, it was as if he were getting in bed with a pile of loose lightbulbs. Juliana closed her eyes at the feeling of him pressing against her. Everything normal had been yanked away from her, but she was slowly getting it all back. Maybe at some point she would be talking to herself as she folded laundry, and her ennui would re-engage, but at this moment she couldn’t imagine anything better than being home with the family, making Sander his perfect fried eggs, driving the kids to school, fixing dinner, and setting a plate aside for Hunter, who would be staying late at the office.

  Even better than the flowers was the vanilla milkshake Hunter had brought in from the commissary. She sighed, closing her eyes with the first sip.

  “Good?” he asked with a smile.

  “You have no idea.”

  “You ready for the twins?”

  Juliana laughed weakly. “It will be fun to see them. Ello says they don’t even notice that I’m gone.”

  Hunter shook his head. “That’s not right. They’ve been very clingy with Ello, and they demand story after story when Dad puts them to bed.” He caught her look and nodded. “Oh, yes, my father’s been very helpful.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Juliana gestured to a sheaf of papers by her side. “Hunter, have you read Ello’s essay about Sean O’Brien?”

  Hunter looked puzzled. “Essay?”

  “She had to pick someone to interview for an assignment, then write a biography. There’s a whole section of just facts, like place of birth, and it’s pretty detailed. By the time you’ve gotten all the answers from your interviewee, you know things about the other person that would never occur to you to ask. Not just, ‘What’s your favorite movie?’ but ‘Who were you with when you saw your favorite movie?’ and ‘What’s your relationship to that person now?’ Then there’s the actual bio. Obviously, by the time you’ve gone through this exercise, you probably know the other person really well, but in this case, there’s more. Let me read something to you.” Juliana picked up the papers and adjusted them. “‘Sean has moved several times because of his mother’s career, but he always has a cool attitude about it. Most kids would hate relocating, but that’s not his deal. He makes friends because he’s always smiling and nice to everyone. He’s also mature and cares about being a good person in the world. People like being around him. He’s athletic and strong and all the girls think he’s hunky.’” Juliana set the papers down. “Our little girl’s in love, Hunter.”

  Hunter blinked. “What? No. You got all that from this assignment?”

  “Does she talk about him to you at all?”

  Hunter shook his head. “No. Never.”

  “So she’s been gathering all this data—there’s a lot of it—and forming these impressions of this boy, and she’s never once mentioned him to her father? Then, yes, she’s fallen in love.”

  “She’s awfully young for that,” Hunter objected. “I mean, love, that’s a pretty strong word. She’s only in eighth grade. I haven’t even m
et this boy! I don’t think a daughter should be running around falling in love with some boy without the father being involved. Do you?”

  “Oh, Hunter.”

  Her husband began to pace the room. “This is my fault, but I can fix it. I’ve been so distracted. She just has no idea what teenage boys are like.” He stopped and gave Juliana a determined gaze. “Should we take away her cell phone?”

  “You’re going to try to confiscate her cell phone just because she has a boyfriend? I’d rather stick my head in a badger hole.”

  “Boyfriend? First you said she’s in love, has a crush, likes a boy, now he’s her boyfriend? This is going way too fast!”

  Juliana sighed, smiling.

  “She’s just a child. A little girl! Remember at the zoo when she got lost for only ten seconds, how relieved she was when I found her?”

  “Hunter, that was five years ago.”

  “Well. No.”

  “No?”

  “I mean, no to the boyfriend, no to the love, no to the whole thing. Aren’t there girls’ schools, or something?”

  “You told me you fell in love with Susie somebody in seventh grade. How is this any different?”

  “Well sure, seventh grade.” He considered his answer, then nodded, apparently conceding the point. “Okay. I mean, no dates or anything, but okay. After he comes over and talks to me.”

  Juliana laughed delightedly. “You’re killing me here.”

  Hunter grinned back at her. “Oh, man.”

  “What?”

  “I just…” Hunter swallowed, his eyes suddenly moist. “There was a time there, for a while, when I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear you laugh again.”

  Juliana reached out a hand and he took it. She felt his need and his love flowing through his grip, and a warm, mellow calm settled over her. They sat like that for a long while, comfortably silent.

  “Might be a tad awkward if Ello’s boyfriend’s mother is my boss,” Hunter mentioned.

  “How is work?” she asked.

  “Oh. You know. Fine. A hassle.”

  She picked up something in the way he answered—he was almost too dismissive. Her inner alarm told her something was going on. Hunter always wanted to talk about work. “Was the installation everything you hoped it would be?” she probed.