The Happiest Season

by Rosemarie Naramore

  “Rickey, are you all right?”

  He heaved a sigh. “I want to see John. But if he works so much, how will we ever see him?”

  She matched his sigh. Rickey had gotten really attached to John in a very short span of time. Maybe it was better that they not see him again. If Rickey became too attached…

  Maggie attempted to distract him. “Hey, how would you like to pick up burgers and fries from a drive-through?”

  “Can I get a milkshake too?”

  “May I get a milkshake?” she clarified.

  “Sure, we can both get milkshakes!” he said eagerly, as his melancholy vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

  After making a run through the drive-through, they headed home. As Maggie carefully pulled into the garage, she spotted something on the front porch. Rickey saw it about the same time she did.

  “Mama, there’s something on the porch,” he said, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to see what it was.

  Once parked, Maggie climbed out of the car. Rickey was unbuckled and out of his booster seat before she could register he was out of the car. “Rickey!” she called, but he had already charged out of the garage and to the porch.

  “Mama!” he yelled. “Look!”

  She hurried over to him, surprised to find him holding tightly to a stuffed camel. “Is it from Gloria?” she asked. It wouldn’t surprise her a bit that Gloria had left a stuffed camel as a reminder of their unusual visitor a week before. She chuckled and then noticed a card on the ground, nearby Rickey’s feet. She bent to pick it up. She read it and couldn’t help smiling.

  The camel was from John. He wrote that some friends had given it to him as a joke, but that he figured Rickey would enjoy it more than he would.

  “Who’s it from, Mama?” Rickey asked eagerly. “Is it from Gloria?”

  “No, sweetie. It’s from John.”

  “Officer John! Really?”

  She nodded.

  “He likes us,” he said smugly. “I knew he liked us. He’s just busy, that’s all. That’s why he hasn’t come over to see me. So he brought a camel instead.”

  Maggie sighed. She didn’t respond to her son’s comment. She had no idea how to respond. Who knew if they would ever see John again?

  ***

  Once again, Maggie was uncertain whom to call—the police or fire department. She ran a hand through her blonde hair, and spun around uncertainly—just as she had the last time they had an uninvited, evening visitor.

  Rickey was currently bouncing around, laughing delightedly, and Pocomo was howling. In apparent response, the donkey in her backyard was ‘hee-hawing’ and kicking up clumps of grass.

  “Give him a cookie!” Rickey cried, and then clutched his sides, fell on the couch, and rolled from side to side in glee. “Yeah, he probably wants a cookie!”

  Maggie gave a rueful shake of her head and dialed the police. She should have asked John for the name and phone number of the man who owned the animals in the live nativity, but really hadn’t thought she would need his number again. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, however, and she realized that like the Boy Scouts, she would be better prepared next time.

  Next time? Good heavens.

  She dialed 911.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a male voice asked this time.

  Maggie sighed, and sounded almost apologetic when she answered. “I’m afraid I have a donkey in my backyard.”

  The declaration was met with stony silence.

  “I need help,” Maggie prompted.

  “Ma’am, this line is for emergency calls only. We will not tolerate abusing this line with crank calls. Please know we have your name and number on record. Click.”

  Maggie stared at the phone in her hand. At least the woman operator from before hadn’t hung up on her. And hadn’t this guy heard about the camel last week? If so, surely he was open to the possibility of donkeys showing up in local residential neighborhoods. But then, maybe he had somehow missed the camel fiasco.

  She dialed again.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

  Attempting to think on her feet, Maggie asked, “Would you please send Officer John Dutch to 742 Sycamore Lane. I have a donkey in my backyard.”

  She heard the agitated breathing of the operator, so she knew he was still on the line. Before he could hang up on her again, she said in a rush, “Look, I don’t make crank calls. Are you aware of the camel that showed up in my backyard last weekend? He was an escapee from the live nativity on display at a church not too far from my house. Anyway, it seems he has a friend…”

  Maggie heard a tussle of activity, followed by a muffled sound as if someone had placed a hand over the receiver, and then finally, the man said in a monotone voice, “I’ll dispatch Officer Dutch.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie said crisply, and hung up the phone.

  By now, Rickey was back by the sliding door, face to face with the donkey. The animal had thankfully stopped kicking at Maggie’s lawn, and seemed oddly interested in Rickey. They both stood with their noses pressed to the slider. Both were leaving tufts of breath on the formerly clean glass.

  To Maggie’s horror, the animal reared back and bashed its head against the glass. Fortunately, Rickey pulled back in the nick of time or he might have been hurt.

  “What does it want?” Maggie cried, alarmed.

  “Cookies?” Rickey answered with a shrug.

  “Uh, okay, yeah. We’ll give it a try.” She dashed over to the window above the kitchen sink and slid it open. She glanced back at Rickey. “Honey, grab me a few cookies from the cookie jar.”

  “Okay, Mama,” he obliged. He raced into the kitchen, yanked the lid off the cookie jar, and scooped out a handful of Christmas cookies. “Here, Mama!”

  She took them from him. “Here, donkey, donkey, donkey,” she called.

  Rickey ran back to the slider. “Mama, get ready. It’s coming toward you.”

  Maggie braced, unsure what to expect. Would the donkey jam its upper body through the window, as the camel had done? Was it tall enough to reach the window?

  Just as it arrived at the window, Maggie tossed the cookies over its head and out into the yard. The donkey spun around and charged after the cookies, letting out an apparently delighted ‘hee-haw’.

  Unfortunately, it polished the cookies off faster than Maggie had anticipated, and immediately returned for more. “Oh, good grief,” she murmured, as she pulled several more cookies out of the jar. Once again, she tossed them over the donkey’s head, and once again, it downed them in record time and returned for more.

  When Maggie didn’t immediately comply with his donkey demands, he struggled to lift his head high enough to see through the open window. He let out a loud, fierce sound. He was clearly enraged that he wasn’t receiving cookies fast enough and he began huffing and puffing through his large nostrils, flinging out what Maggie could only believe to be … donkey snot.

  “Oh, gross!” Rickey bellowed. “Mama, close the window!”

  Thankfully, the doorbell rang. Both Maggie and Rickey raced to answer it. This time, when they found John standing on the porch, he didn’t waste a second. After registering Maggie’s alarmed face, he ran past mother and son and into the kitchen.

  They were only a second or two behind him, but in that time, the donkey had somehow managed to cover John with the remaining contents of its nose. They found him, frozen in place, his arms splayed out at his sides.

  He turned toward Maggie and snared her gaze. “If I shoot it, will you back me up that it was justifiable homicide?”

  She didn’t hesitate to nod, but then burst out laughing when Rickey rammed a large candy cane into its mouth. The donkey held it between its teeth, and like the camel, it seemed to love that candy cane. It pulled back from the window and began chomping on the treat.

  John, whose hand was poised above his revolver, seemed torn. Maggie laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “You probably don’t have to shoot i
t now. It seems calmer.”

  “It might be, but I’m not,” he groused, still staring down at his soiled uniform.

  “You’ll need to get your uniform to a drycleaners ASAP,” she said, stifling a laugh.

  He still appeared frozen and didn’t unthaw until Maggie said, “Do you happen to have the phone number of the guy who owns the…”

  “Ass,” he interjected with a smirk.

  “You said a bad word, John!” Rickey accused. “Mama, get the soap!”

  John burst out laughing. “I need soap all right, and not just for my mouth.” With a shoring breath, he pulled a notebook from his back pocket. He scanned it and found what he was looking for. This time, when he called the owner of the animal, he wasn’t nearly so understanding.

  “Come get this a—er, donkey out of Miss Dulane’s yard, or I’m calling Animal Control.”

  He hung up and turned to Maggie and said sweetly, “He shouldn’t be long.”

  “Let’s hope not,” she said, biting back a smile. “So… Would you like a cookie?”

  ***

  “The donkey’s gone,” Rickey declared, as he watched the beast being led out of the backyard. “I’m going to miss him,” he said sadly.

  “I’m not,” Maggie and John said in unison. They turned toward one another and smiled with chagrin.

  “Would you like to clean up?” Maggie asked him then, noting he looked horribly uncomfortable in the soiled uniform.

  “I would,” he told her. “In fact, I’m going to head home and do just that. Fortunately, I have another uniform cleaned and pressed.”

  “Fortunately,” she agreed, her eyes doing a pass over his uniform. She couldn’t help it. She began laughing.

  “You think this is funny?” he asked in a mock-stern voice.

  She shook her head, but the action morphed into an up and down motion. “I can’t lie,” she said, still laughing. “It’s kind of funny.”

  “You think?”

  She nodded.

  “You really think?”

  She nodded again. And as had happened in her kitchen before, their eyes locked. A silent communication passed between them. When he reached toward her and took a lock of her hair, she wasn’t certain what his intent was. Was he going to fondle her hair? Was this an unexpected romantic gesture? Because, if so, it needed to stop and it needed to stop now.

  She attempted to take a step back, but he held onto her hair. It wasn’t until he tugged at the strand, studied it and made a face, and then wiped his hand on his already soiled uniform that she realized what he was showing her. She had donkey snot on her head!

  He registered the look of disgust, and then anger, on her face. “Not so funny now,” he whispered into her ear, and then reached for another clump of her gooey hair. He shook his head and moved to the sink and washed his hands. When he turned back, he smiled. “You really need to wash your hair.”

  Now she stood frozen, contemplating the goo on her head. “I don’t like donkeys,” she muttered forlornly.

  “Me neither,” he agreed.

  “We’ll get a camel instead,” Rickey said reasonably.

  ***

  “Wasn’t it great that Officer John could come see us again,” Rickey said cheerfully, as he climbed into bed. He’d already said his prayers and was relatively agreeable about bedtime. Maggie realized he must really be tired to be so accommodating.

  “Honey, Officer John’s visit wasn’t a social call.”

  “Social call? What is that?”

  “Never mind,” she said, smiling. “You’re right. It was nice of him to come by. It was especially nice of him to remove that awful donkey from our backyard.” She gave a shudder at the memory. She’d already taken a long shower, had washed her hair four times, but she still felt filthy.

  “The donkey wasn’t so bad. I think he just had a cold.”

  Maggie chuckled. “Could be.”

  “And at least he didn’t kick the back of our house.”

  “You make a good point.”

  “And he didn’t spit at you.”

  Maggie conceded the point with a nod. “That’s true.”

  “I wonder how he got in our yard,” he said. “Officer John made sure to latch the gate after the camel left. I saw him do it.”

  Maggie sighed. “I don’t know. But I do hope we don’t have any other unwanted visitors.”

  “I like visitors,” Rickey said. “I hope John comes over tomorrow.”

  Maggie gave him a speculative glance. “Do you have a reason for thinking John might come over tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” he said smartly. “I asked him to.”

  “Oh, son,” she sighed. “You didn’t, did you?”

  “Yep.”

  “And what did he say?”

  He cocked his head in thought. “He said…” He appeared to be searching his brain. “Oh, I remember! Wait, no, no, I don’t. I’m sorry, Mama.”

  “That’s okay, sweetie.” She tucked him in tight and then sat down on the edge of his bed. “You know how much I love you, right?”

  He nodded. “I love you too.”

  She kissed the top of his head and padded from the room, certain he would be asleep in no time.

  ***

  Rickey climbed out of bed, careful not to make any noise. He tiptoed to his door and peered out. His mother was nowhere to be seen, but he heard her downstairs, tinkering around in the kitchen. He was relieved.

  He tiptoed to the window of his room and looked out across the park and to the field, where he imagined the animals were hunkering down for the night. He had to imagine, because he hadn’t seen them. Well, not all of them, and not together anyway.

  He’d seen the camel and the donkey, but he knew there had to be others. If he remembered correctly, he’d heard Gloria tell his mom that there were sheep too—and even a baby lamb.

  Boy, that donkey stopping by tonight had been a surprise. He wished it could have stayed longer, but then, it wasn’t a very polite guest. It shouldn’t have blown its nose on John or his mother. They would have probably liked it a lot better if it hadn’t done that. But then, maybe its mama hadn’t taught it good manners.

  He sighed, wishing he could see the live nativity scene from his window. He felt a certain kinship with those animals. He wondered what was bringing them to his house. But then he figured he might have a pretty good idea why they were coming.

  He gave a sheepish laugh, but promptly covered his mouth. Yeah, he just might have some idea why they were coming. He figured it had something to do with a miscommunication between him and God.

  God.

  It was time for another private prayer. He padded to his bed and knelt down beside it. He brought his hands together and glanced heavenward, before dropping his eyes in reverence. He began praying. “Dear God, I just wanted to talk to you again. I hope that’s all right with you. I know how busy you are. Well, um, you know, God, like I said before, I would never tell you how to do your job or nothin’, but…”

  He glanced heavenward, but then dropped his head again, resting his chin on his hands. “Um, well, God, it’s just…” He gave a sigh. “Okay, well, I’ll just come out and say it again. God, I asked you for a daddy and…” He shook his head. “And you sent me a donkey!”

  Chapter Seven

  Maggie rose early the next morning, intending to do a thorough cleaning of her kitchen. She’d wiped it down the evening before, but just knew she’d missed something. She realized that at this point, she probably wouldn’t rest easy about the cleanliness of her kitchen if a hazmat team donned suits, came in, disinfected the entire space, and hosed it down.

  As she glanced around the small, and usually tidy space, she suddenly felt overwhelmed. She felt compelled to scrub every inch of every surface. It would probably take her all morning to regard her kitchen as relatively germ-free again.

  With a sigh, she grabbed a sponge, dipped it in a bleach solution, and started on the cabinet doors. She began wiping with a vengeance
, determined to rid them of donkey residue. Finally, she wiped them down a second time and then stood back to assess her work. She followed by stripping the kitchen of knick-knacks and wiping them down, before scrubbing all the counters and tabletops. She ended with a thorough mopping of the floor.

  Finally, she stood back to assess her work. When her eyes lit on the wall opposite the kitchen window, she decided not to take any chances. She began wiping down the entire wall. She was nearly done when the doorbell rang.

  She hurried to answer it. Rickey was blessedly sleeping in late, and she was grateful for the quiet time to complete her tasks. She hoped the doorbell hadn’t awakened him.

  She tossed open the door. John stood on the stoop, his mouth curved into a smile. “Hi,” he said. “How are you?”

  “Oh, uh, fine,” she told him, swiping an arm across her brow. “I’ve been cleaning up after the camel, er ... I mean, donkey.”

  He gave her a commiserating smile. “Yeah, I don’t blame you.” He shuffled awkwardly. “Do you … need any help?”

  “Oh, I’m almost done,” she told him, forcing a smile. She too felt awkward, certain she looked unkempt from doing housework. “Was there something…?” She raised her shoulders in question.

  “Uh, yeah. Have you…?” He blew out a breath. “Have you had a chance to take a look at your … backyard?”

  “No… I’ve been cleaning.” She narrowed her eyes. “What’d the donkey do to my yard? I mean, I know it was kicking a bit but…”

  He winced and to her surprise, strode past her and into the house. She closed the door behind him and followed. She found him in the backyard, assessing the damage left by the donkey.

  She gasped at the sight of the torn-up sod. There was so much of it.

  “I had no idea!” she cried. “How could one donkey do so much damage?” She shook her head and smoothed a hand through her hair. The entire lawn, formerly manicured, was a muddy patch. A narrow pathway across the lawn, which had been lined with decorative pavers, was now indiscernible from the rest of the lawn, and the pavers were strewn about.