A Little Christmas Magic

by Sylvie Kurtz

The way her parents had. The way Jim had.

  Jamie's need for her would diminish soon enough. She had to enjoy him while she could. Even without his father, Jamie would have a childhood filled with bright memories. She'd make sure of it.

  Quietly she closed the door and headed for her room. She picked up the blood-stained pants she'd worn that morning and plodded downstairs to throw them in the washer and lock up. All required an effort of will. On the floor in the hallway, she spotted the coat she hadn't had the energy to hang up earlier. Seeing the darkened bloodstains, she decided to throw it in the washer with the pants. With a tired sigh she dumped her small load on the floor and selected the settings on the washer. While the water gushed into the basin, she picked up the pants to spray them with stain remover. Next she reached for the coat. The pocket bumped against the appliance with a thud.

  "What in the world?" She reached inside the pocket. Her bandaged hands made the operation clumsy. The object inside popped out and plopped to the floor. Logan's wallet. She'd forgotten to give it back to him.

  She crouched to pick it up. The thing had popped open. It wasn't as if she was nosy. She looked at the Texas driver's license showing through the plastic window. Not bad for a DMV picture. The photo had obviously been taken several years before. His face showed a healthy tan, and a semblance of a smile graced his lips. His hair was trimmed in a neat military style. What had happened since then to change him so much? So, okay, she was curious. Curiosity was normal, healthy behavior.

  The washer's noise changed from a gush to a chug. She dumped her coat in and closed the cover. Wallet still in hand, she headed for the living room. Going through the compartments wouldn't really be an invasion of privacy, not if she undertook her perusal with the right attitude. She wanted to understand the man, not use the information against him. After all, he was her neighbor. And Jamie would be going to his house to take leftovers.

  Her conscience debated ethics, but curiosity won out. Sitting on the sofa, she awkwardly pulled out the photo gallery from the back compartment. She found five cropped pictures.

  The first showed a beautiful girl about Jamie's age. Her wide smile with its missing front tooth reached all the way to her deep-hazel eyes. A bright-red bow sat crooked on her long, dark-brown hair. Her coloring was darker than Logan's, but she recognized him in the little girl's face. His daughter?

  An old man with silver hair holding a line of trout smiled at her from the second picture. A woman with intense brown eyes stared at her from the third. Beth looked at the little girl's picture again and recognized the woman's coloring. His wife?

  What had happened to his family? Divorce? Had it been bitter and etched the pain on his face?

  As she turned to the fourth picture, she gasped. Logan stood in a policeman's uniform, surrounded by a group of smiling kids holding a sign that read, "Thank you, Officer Ward." She dropped the plastic sleeve.

  A cop... like Jim.

  Questions zoomed so fast she couldn't make any sense of them. Had something happened to him on duty? A heaviness settled over her heart. She almost wished she hadn't given in to her curiosity. Seeing Logan in uniform brought back too many memories of the past.

  She picked up the dropped plastic sleeve to return it to the wallet. The last photograph brought a smile to her lips. An ice-skating rink decked out in full Christmas cheer filled the background. In the foreground, Logan and the girl hammed it up for the camera. The man was gorgeous when he smiled! At one time he must have enjoyed the holidays.

  Suddenly she came up with a wonderful idea.

  A perfectly brilliant plan.

  After all 'twas the season to be jolly. If Logan couldn't find his heart at this time of the year, when would he?

  "Beth..." She could almost hear Jim's voice caution her. "Leave it alone. Not everybody wants your interference however well-meaning it is."

  She looked up at Jim's framed picture on the mantel.

  "But, Jim, he needs help."

  She could imagine his gaze rolling toward the ceiling the way it had whenever she'd come up with one of her grandiose schemes. Then he'd hug her close. "What am I going to do with you?"

  "Love me, Jim. Just love me." And he had.

  How she missed him! Tears prickled the corners of her eyes and she hugged her torso to ward off the chill suddenly permeating the room. She missed him as if he'd left her yesterday instead of five long years ago.

  Generous to the end, Jim's last thoughts had been for her and Jamie.

  She swiped at the tears before they could fall. He'd made her promise never to cry for him. He'd made her promise Christmas would always be a time of joy.

  That promise seemed harder each year to fulfill.

  She looked down at the picture of the man and the girl in her hands and knew she had no choice. Logan Ward became one more project on her Christmas to-do list.

  For Christmas, she'd teach him to smile again.

  She had a feeling she'd have to wrestle all of her holiday imagination to accomplish the task. But if she managed this minor miracle, maybe she'd find her spirit again and keep her promise to Jim for one more year.

  * * *

  Other than the squashed breakfast bar Logan found on the passenger's side of his car, there was not a crumb of food in the house. He fed the raspberry mush to the dog and would have given half of his possessions for a hot cup of coffee. His glance strayed to the kitchen window, to Beth's house. He rejected the notion with a grunt. No way. He didn't need coffee that badly. His neighbor's effervescence on top of the dog's misplaced infatuation would be too much to endure.

  Without a phone, though, a trip to town was unavoidable. He needed to drop off the U-haul trailer at Gus's Country Store, leave the dog at the local pound and brave the grocery store for basic staples.

  "Might as well get it all over with in one trip."

  He fashioned a makeshift collar and leash from a piece of rope he found in his toolbox. As he approached the dog, noose in hand, she cowered in a corner of the kitchen and growled.

  "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, disgusted. Crouching beside her, he held the rope loosely, letting her sniff it. "I don't hit women, children or animals—only thugs, and even then, only when there's no other choice."

  She licked her lips in a nervous manner and lowered her head submissively, looking at him as if she didn't quite believe his words.

  "I'm taking you to a place where they'll take good care of you. You'll have your own dry and warm space, a balanced meal and fresh water. And if you look cute enough when people come to visit, you might even get a family to take you home."

  She licked his fingers and batted her tail against the floor in a timid half measure.

  "Here there's gonna be nothing but dust and mess for months and months. And that's not very healthy. Not even for a mangy mutt like you. Hear what I'm sayin'?"

  She scooched a little bit closer and cocked her head as if she understood every word coming out of his mouth.

  "Chow's gonna be lousy. Hours are gonna be hell. Living conditions, the pits."

  She cocked her head the other way.

  "Now, Beth... she'd take you in in a minute. But I've got a sneaking suspicion you'd just end up here like you did last night. So it's really best this way."

  She tentatively placed her muzzle on his knee and rolled those liquid eyes up at him.

  Those eyes, that expression, made him think of Sam, and he swallowed hard. His daughter had known just how to manipulate him with a look and a smile. He'd never minded. She was his life, and her happiness had been his goal.

  "It's not gonna work." He slipped the noose over the dog's head, feeling the cold, empty darkness inside him. "I just don't have anything left inside."

  * * *

  "What do you mean you don't have a pound?"

  Beth froze as her heart gave a lurch of recognition at Logan's outraged bellow. She'd been humming along with the Christmas carols playing over the speaker at Gus's Country Store—which had st
arted out as a hardware store, but now contained a bit of everything. At the sound of Logan's voice she stopped her inspection of the two potted evergreens she'd been comparing and headed toward the counter island in the middle of the store.

  "I'm telling you, you're gonna have to go down to Nashua or up to Manchester to find an animal shelter. Best I can do for you is post a notice on the bulletin board."

  Gus Leonard was working hard to keep his temper under control, but his skin was reddening and one end of his gray mustache twitched at every other word. He was strong and fit, for a man of sixty-odd years, and usually didn't take any guff from anyone, but Gus also prided himself on his customer service, and Logan, for better or for worse, was presently a customer.

  Logan stood with the dog held firmly like a football under his left arm. His stance was confrontational yet defensive. Even if she hadn't seen the picture of him in uniform last night, she might have guessed police officer as his occupation by the way he seemed poised and ready for action.

  "Is there a problem?" she asked, joining the two men at the counter. She should walk away, leave him alone to handle his own problems, but she couldn't. He was on her to-do list now, and although she hadn't quite come up with a plan for his reformation yet, she saw him as her responsibility. Besides, seeing him again felt good.

  "How'd you get here?" Logan barked at her and speared her with his stormy gaze.

  She recoiled half a step at his unexpected outburst, then tilted her chin up. "I drove."

  "Your hands. You should have called me."

  "My hands are fine." She twisted them around and wiggled her fingers to prove her point. For a man who professed to want to be left alone, he was certainly showing an awful lot of interest in her welfare. That was good. It meant there was hope for him still. "You didn't give me a phone number."

  He grunted, then turned back to Gus. "So what am I supposed to do with the dog?"

  "I suggest you get a collar and leash. Aisle four in the back. Alex Green isn't too keen on strays, and he's the officer on duty this morning."

  "What does he do with them? Take them to the pound?"

  Gus reached around Logan's body to ring up the gallon of paint and paintbrush Donna Toledo hesitatingly handed to him. "Fines the owner."

  "She's not mine."

  Gus's bushy eyebrows rose and he huffed. "Seems to me you're the one holding her."

  The dog's tail swept Logan's black ski jacket with a swish-swish, and she licked his jaw. He swiped a hand at the unwanted public canine display of affection.

  "And what's with this Christmas music? Thanksgiving's barely over, for Pete's sake." His gaze radiated anger and resentment that far exceeded what the situation warranted, making her uncomfortable. She had to get him out of there.

  Gus handed the paper bag filled with Donna's purchases to her. "It's tradition. Customers expect it. To get 'em in the right holiday mood."

  Before Logan could reply, she took hold of his jacket sleeve and pulled on it. "Don't mind him, Gus. Logan is a little bit holiday-challenged. We'll be in the pet section."

  Putting Logan on her to-do list was one thing; handling him, quite another. She'd have her task cut out for her, excavating all those layers of protective anger to get to his true heart. In her mind she saw the picture of him with the little girl, both of them smiling. Seeing that smile in living color would be worth the effort. Getting him to keep that dog, she sensed, would be an important first step to his reformation. Speed, she decided, was the answer.

  "Where's Jamie?" Logan asked as she led him toward the pet section. The scent of mothballs and paint and fertilizer came and went as they walked.

  "Looking at hockey equipment."

  "You let him go by himself?"

  She sighed loud and long. "It's a small town. Everybody knows everybody. Jamie's safe."

  "A small town doesn't guarantee safety." His voice sounded like a velvet growl, making her wonder once more about what had happened to him in Texas.

  "It does if you're Jim Lannigan's son."

  After Jim's death every cop in town had made it his business to see to Jamie's safety. When Jamie was in town, he couldn't spit the wrong way without the fact finding its way back to her. On father-son outings, one of them always volunteered to act as a stand-in. And every Wednesday night, Glenn Harris, a part-timer with the Rockville P.D., showed up to take Jamie to the Cub Scout meeting, even though he didn't have a son among his brood of cherubic offspring. A tug of regret pulled at her heart. She missed Jim so much.

  Logan shot her a curious look but didn't ask any questions. She was grateful. Talking about Jim selfishly made her want to cry for all she'd lost, and she'd promised him she wouldn't cry. She stopped at the pet supply section of the store, blinked several times to sweep away tears before they could form. Logan's restlessness was contagious, and her attention wandered. Her body filled with tension as she tried to study the available merchandise. Speed, she reminded herself. Don't give him a chance to think about how else he can dispose of that dog.

  "You're not going to have much of a choice," she said, picking up a red collar from the hook. She slipped it around the dog's neck. Her cheeks flamed when she accidentally bumped her hand against Logan's side. "It's red or blue. Do you have a preference?"

  "No."

  She patted the red collar into place. "There that fits. Do you have any bowls?"

  "Bowls?"

  "Yeah, you know, for dog food and water."

  "No."

  She turned back to the display and started stacking her selections in her arm. "You'll need a leash, bowls and a bed—"

  "She doesn't need a bed. She's not going to stick around that long."

  Beth stubbornly held on to the green-and-white plaid pillow. "She has to have someplace to sleep in the meantime."

  He grumbled something she couldn't quite hear and she secretly smiled. If the dog could stay with him for just a few days, he'd start thawing. Who could resist that sweet brown face, those liquid eyes? "You'll need dog food, too, but I'd get it at the Market Basket. More choice."

  She added a brush to her selections, then picked up a rope puppet and squeaked it at the dog who responded with canine glee. Logan grabbed the puppet from her hands and returned it to the shelf. "That's going to drive me nuts."

  "Um," she said, scratching the dog's jaw, "let's find something that doesn't squeak then." She picked out a Nylabone, a tug toy and a small ball. As they left the pet aisle, she grabbed a bottle of shampoo.

  Just then Jamie came bounding down the center aisle. "Mom, Mom, they got skates my size and they fit. Darlene helped me try them on and everything." He skidded to a halt. "Logan! You're here."

  "Mr. Ward," Beth corrected.

  "Mr. Ward." Jamie reached for the dog, who squirmed in Logan's arm. "You brought your dog. Did you give her a name yet?"

  Logan crouched, holding the dog by the collar but letting boy and dog greet each other. "She's not going to stay around long enough to have a name."

  "Max." Eyes scrunched and giggling, Jamie dodged Max's busy tongue. "That's what I'm going to call her."

  "Max is a boy's name," Beth pointed out. She shifted the dog pillow in her arms. "This is a girl."

  "She looks just like Max."

  She frowned. "I don't know anyone named Max."

  "The Grinch's dog. In the movie."

  She blushed. "Jamie—"

  Logan pulled off the price tag from the leash and collar and handed the leash to Jamie. "Why don't you hold her while I go pay for all this stuff."

  "Can I really? Can I take her outside? Bobby's at the Toy Barn." Without waiting for an answer, Jamie took the dog's leash and stood up. "Come on, Max. Come on. I'll be back to help you pick out a tree, Mom."

  "He'll be all right," she assured Logan. "The Toy Barn is right next door, and he knows to stay on the sidewalk."

  Logan grunted an answer and headed toward the cash register. He patted his pocket and came up empty. She remembered his wallet s
till lay on her living room coffee table. "Let me get this. I'll return your wallet as soon as we get home. Gus, add a potted blue spruce to the bill."

  Gus glanced from her to Logan and back again. "Sure thing."

  She signed the credit card machine while Logan helped Gus bag Max's things.

  "I'll put a notice on the bulletin board," Gus said as he slipped his glasses from his forehead to his eyes to peer at her check.

  "I appreciate that. I should have a new cell phone by Monday."

  A phone. Another good sign. He wasn't cutting all ties to the living.

  "If I hear anything before then," Gus said, "I'll let Beth know."

  Logan nodded and turned to her. "I'll get your tree."

  "Thanks, that's awfully nice of you."

  He ground his teeth. She flashed him a smile.

  He returned a few minutes later with a blue spruce. "How's this one?"

  "Perfect."

  She grabbed the dog pillow and followed Logan out of the store. And then she knew just what she was going to do.

  Little by little she would expose him to the community, and just as with an allergy serum, he would get used to human contact. Before he could realize what had happened, he would be one of them.

  She smiled again, hugging the pillow closer, feeling quite pleased with herself.

  Chapter 5

  The doorbell rang, but Logan ignored it. He wasn't expecting anyone, and after the living hell Beth had put him through this morning, he deserved some peace and quiet. He reached up and stripped another layer of the gaudy harvest-gold and avocado-green flowered wallpaper off the kitchen wall.

  Beth had followed him to the Market Basket and introduced him to every blessed human being in the store. She'd fussed over his selections, chided him about proper nutrition and pretty much made him wonder what had possessed him to move to New Hampshire in the first place.

  The doorbell's ding-dong reverberated once again through the empty house. He glanced at the dog snoozing on her pillow.

  "Some guard dog you are."

  She cracked open an eyelid and batted her tail against the floor.

  He dumped the gluey mess of wet paper into a bucket.