Bark! the Herald Angels Sing

by Roxanne St Claire

  Fighting a sob, Finnie wrapped her arms around her sister, inhaling her flowery, familiar scent, then stood like a statue to watch Vi practically skip toward the docks, swinging her nurse’s bag. Finally, when the last bit of auburn hair disappeared, Finnie turned to pat Alphonsus on the head and climb into the cart.

  Just as she got settled on the bench, she saw him again. The lad with the green-gold eyes and good heart. He was walking toward her, his body shoved deep into a navy coat, hands stuffed into the pockets, head down against the sleet that had just started to spit from the clouds.

  “Do you want a ride?” Her question tumbled out before Finnie could stop the words. There you go, Vi. A wee bit reckless.

  He looked up, slowed his step, and a shadow of a smile crossed his face. “To Dublin, aye. And then to England.”

  She nodded. “My sister just left. She’s a nurse.”

  His eyes flashed with envy. “Lucky.”

  “Not sure I’d call her that,” Finnie said. “I’m going to Carrig Hill if you—”

  “She’s lucky,” he insisted. “But I’m a man, and I’m the one who should go to war.”

  “A man?” Finnie couldn’t keep the doubt out of her voice. “Don’t look much older than I am, which is barely twelve and a half.”

  “I’m fifteen,” he said, turning to steal a look at the docks. “Old enough to fight for what matters. To fight for the world.” He leaned closer, and once again, Finnie had that feeling like the very world was a little off-kilter. Was that how Vi felt when she looked at Timmy? Because it was…nice.

  “Sorry you can’t go,” she said.

  “Not as sorry as I am,” he replied. “I left my family, who might not even want me back. I left a good job as an apprentice glassblower. I left everything because of what I believe in, but no one wants this.” He pulled a wicker flame lamp out of his pocket and turned it over. “And now my mam’ll kill me for taking it, but it was all I could think of to get passage.”

  It didn’t look like much of a treasure, so ’twas no wonder he couldn’t sell it. Not like…not like…

  She looked down at her hands and the wrinkled kerchief wrapped around a real treasure.

  “And thank you for the offer, miss, but I’m heading back to County Waterford.”

  Waterford? “That’s so far.”

  “I’ll make it.” He added a half smile, and that just made her heart turn in her chest. “But ’tisn’t where I want to go. Not by a long shot.”

  He could go. He could realize his dream. And what would it cost her?

  If you need to do something, do it.

  She’d thought she was parting with the pin today anyway, and this lad, this sweet, handsome lad full of heart and passion…she could help him. It could be Finnie’s own little sacrifice to save the world.

  If yer heart feels a callin’, listen to it.

  She leaned forward and held out her linen-and-lace-wrapped package. “Here.”

  He drew back, frowning, looking from her hand to her face.

  “Take it,” she insisted. “’Twill buy your passage.”

  His jaw loosened as he lifted his hand to take what she offered.

  “Should get you to Liverpool,” she said, remembering what Vi had told her. “After that, you might have to get creative.”

  Slowly, he unwrapped the kerchief with as much care as he might give a valuable Christmas present. As he saw the pin, his eyes widened. After a moment, he looked up at her, silent, but she could read his expression. Gratitude.

  “You take it,” she said. “On one condition.”

  “You want my lamp?”

  She laughed. “You come back.”

  He blinked at her. “Aye, lassie. I’ll come back. I swear on it. And thank you, Miss…Miss…”

  “Brennan. My name’s Finola Brennan.”

  “Finola Brennan.” It sounded like a song on his lips, then he pressed the kerchief and pin to his chest. “I thank you, Finola.” He nodded a few times, backing away as if he thought she might change her mind. “Thank you,” he muttered again, turning to run toward the carts.

  “Wait!” she called.

  He hesitated, but didn’t stop at first, no doubt worried she’d ask for the pin back. But then he finally halted and turned. “Aye?”

  “What’s your name?” she asked. “So I can pray for you.” And think about you every night.

  “My name’s Seamus,” he said, adding a grin of relief that she hadn’t changed her mind. “Seamus Kilcannon.”

  She nodded, taking the name into her heart and finding a place where she could keep that name safe and sound. “You be careful, Seamus Kilcannon. And remember your promise.”

  He just smiled and lifted the pin, the white lace kerchief fluttering in the wind. “I’ll be back, Finola Brennan. And when I do, when this war is over, I won’t forget this act of kindness. I’ll kiss ye for it. I promise that, too.”

  Chapter Nine

  Pru gasped so hard she almost choked. “That’s how you met Great-Grandpa Seamus? You were twelve? And gave him that pin? And, wait, how did you get it back, and did he get hurt, and what about your sis—”

  “Lass.” Gramma put a weathered hand on Pru’s arm. “Your phone is ringin’.”

  Oh God. Mom. “I forgot to call her! I got so involved in that story.” Pru scrambled to snag her phone, pulling her head into the present after Gramma’s journey to the past, shared while they waited for lunch at the deli counter.

  She frantically tapped the screen before the call went into voice mail and pressed her cell phone to her ear. “Mom, Mom. I’m here.”

  “Pru!” Three letters, one syllable, so much shock, guilt, anger, and dismay.

  “I’m fine, Mom. We’re fine.”

  “Where are you?”

  Pru exhaled. “Holly Hills. We had to—”

  “Gramma Finnie drove to Holly Hills?” Mom wasn’t usually a shrieker, but this time her voice was so loud, Gramma drew back and made a face.

  “She did great,” Pru said. “And I told you we had to run an errand. A wedding errand.” That should get her out of a little trouble, right?

  “So you let an eighty-seven-year-old woman drive into the mountains in the dead of winter?”

  “There was no weather. And no problems.” Well…if you didn’t count picking up a stray and nearly losing Gramma completely. “We’ll be home later this afternoon, I swear.”

  “Pru, there’s snow coming. Please come home now. No wedding errand is worth your safety.”

  She couldn’t get that pin back now, could she? That jeweler said he was taking it home. “I’ll try.”

  “No try. Do.”

  Pru attempted a laugh. “Sure thing, Yoda.”

  “Pru, I am not happy with you right now.” Mom was working to keep it together, she could tell. Guilt nearly strangled Pru when she thought about the wedding stress, the holidays, and Mom was probably missing her own mother right now. As great an idea as this had seemed in the moment, it suddenly felt kinda dumb.

  “We’ll leave right away…if we can.”

  “What do you mean ‘if we can’?”

  She exhaled slowly. “We found a dog and—”

  “A dog?”

  “Abandoned in the hills, and so we’re just waiting to get her cleaned up and…”

  “Is she sick?” she asked, always a vet to the heart.

  “If you consider pregnancy an illness,” Pru said, biting her lip.

  “You found a pregnant dog?” It was clear from the sound of her voice that Mom didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over that one.

  And she really didn’t want to give up on that pin. “Oh, Mom, this dog is so cute. Gramma’s in love. She’s a border, with one blue and one brown eye, which are so—”

  “Bring the dog home now, and you’ll beat the snow. Please, Pru.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “But, Mom, we’re waiting for one more thing, and it’s really important, and you have to—”

  “Ump
roo.” Trace Bancroft’s low voice cut off her plea, and she could picture him taking the phone, flexing his tattooed biceps, and sliding into Dad mode, which came more and more naturally to him every day. “You need to listen to your mother. To both of us. Come. Home. Now.”

  She swallowed and slid a look to Gramma as their sandwiches were placed in front of them. “Okay, we just got lunch, so—”

  “Now.”

  She nodded in silent resignation. “All right, Trace. Tell Mom we’ll be home soon.” She set the phone down and stared at Gramma. “We are currently in some exceedingly deep doo.”

  Gramma smiled. “Kind of like what happened to me that day when I got home from Wexford Port.”

  Pru looked longingly across the table. She needed to hear the rest of that story. But they had to move. Now.

  “Let’s get the sandwiches to go, Gramma, and spring Blue from the groomers. I’ll run into the jewelry store and tell them I can’t pick up the pin until…” She shook her head. “Maybe Trace or one of my uncles will drive me back here after Christmas.”

  Gramma Finnie just sighed in agreement, accepting their fate and her role in it.

  A few minutes later, they walked into the groomer’s studio, only to be met by the owner, a platinum blonde wearing a paw-print patterned apron with the name Melanie embroidered on the chest.

  “You’ve found Queenie!” The woman rounded the counter with her hands outstretched to greet them. “She’s been missing for almost two weeks. Jenny didn’t know her, of course, but I recognized her the minute I came back from lunch.”

  “So you know her owner?” Pru asked.

  “Oh yeah. Old Bill Cutter even came in here with a sign for our lost-dog board out front. Didn’t you see it in the window? And, believe me, it takes a lot to get that old fart out of the house.” She snorted. “But he’d do anything for Queenie.”

  “Queenie?” Gramma Finnie repeated the name like it was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard.

  “Bill Cutter.” Pru pictured the owner’s name in her head, seeing the B, l, u, and e and all those missing letters. “That’s what’s on her tag.” And a name that began with a Q. Now it all made sense. “So she has an owner.”

  “Oh, she has an owner all right, and if he thinks you’ve been messing with his girl, he’ll let you know about it with one of his shotguns.” The woman hooted and shook back thick waves of hair. “Just kidding. Kinda.”

  “We’ll have to return her on our way back to Bitter Bark,” Pru said, putting a light hand on Gramma’s shoulder because she sensed this news wasn’t going to make her happy.

  “Bitter Bark?” Melanie’s brows shot up. “Wrong direction, hon. He lives in the mountains a good ten miles west and north of here. Maybe fifteen. You won’t find his place on GPS, and I don’t even have an address, but I can draw a map.”

  Draw a map? What was this? The 1400s? “How about we just call him?” Pru suggested.

  “If he had a phone, which he does not.”

  “Then let’s forget about it,” Gramma said. “He doesn’t love Blue enough to take care of her—”

  “Gramma.” Pru narrowed her eyes. “We can’t steal the dog.”

  Melanie snorted. “You can try, but I guarantee you old Bill would hunt you down and get her back and make you pay for his inconvenience. That old piece of crust hates everyone and everything except that dog.”

  “Didn’t love her enough to get her spayed,” Gramma noted. “It’s the right thing to do for a dog.”

  Melanie nodded in agreement. “But he lives like a hermit in the woods. He didn’t think it was necessary, which, of course, I didn’t agree with. And one time she got out, and sure enough, some hunting dog had his way with her.”

  “Now he’ll have a litter to take care of,” Gramma said. “Probably more than he can handle.”

  “Who knows?” Melanie shrugged. “Might get him out more often. I’m telling you, the man’s got agor…agor…he hates to leave the house.”

  “Agoraphobia?” Pru suggested.

  “Yeah, that. Except for Queenie,” she replied. “He comes in here for supplies ever since he got Queenie a few years back. Now? I don’t know what’s going on, because he thinks she’s dead.”

  “Oh.” Pru pressed her hand to her chest. “He needs his dog back.”

  “That he does,” Melanie said. “I saw him cry when he brought that picture, which really shocked me. He’s a Vietnam vet, a Marine sniper with more than fifty confirmed kills, they say.”

  With each piece of Bill Cutter’s puzzle, Pru got a little more upset. “Sure don’t want to get on the wrong end of that rifle. We have to return her, Gramma. Or could you board her here?” The idea popped into Pru’s head and suddenly made so much sense.

  But Melanie gave a negative shake of her head. “Sorry. We’re beyond overbooked for Christmas. And…” She checked her watch. “We’re closing in a few minutes for the Elf Parade. But I can get you to his woods, then he’ll find you, believe me.”

  He’d find them? In the woods? “I can’t take the—”

  “I’d take her myself, but I’m on the Elf Parade judging committee. But I’ll tell you this, he’s a broken man. You get that dog to him today, and you’ll give Bill Cutter the best Christmas present he’s ever had.”

  When Melanie finally paused for a breath, Pru turned to look at Gramma. “There’s really no discussion,” she said.

  “Aye. Not even your mother could say no. ’Tis the right thing to do.”

  “Uncle Liam would be furious if we didn’t help out a fellow Marine.”

  Gramma put a hand on Blue’s head. “As long as she is well loved.”

  “I’ll text Mom,” Pru said, taking out her phone before she forgot again, tapping furiously.

  Found dog’s owner! We’re returning her (of course!) and then will be on our way home. Love ya!!

  She added a few pink hearts for good measure, still thinking through the timing.

  “You know, Gramma, on the way back, we’ll come through town and get the pin. I’ll stay in constant contact with my mother, so we can’t—”

  “Blue!” Gramma called out the name as their groomer came through the door with the dog trotting next to her, wearing a sparkly blue and white bandanna, her fur all clean, trimmed, and lovely.

  “I thought you said her name was Blue,” the young groomer said. “That’s why the bandanna. But Mel told me it’s Queenie.”

  “It’s Blue today.” Gramma crouched down to greet the dog, who headed right to her, tongue out. Without a command, she dropped in front of Gramma Finnie, looking up with her haunting mismatched eyes locked on her new favorite person.

  “There’s my sweet lassie.”

  “Oh, she likes you.” The owner came closer.

  “Of course she does.” Gramma leaned closer and rubbed the dog’s head with both hands. “I found her pregnant, alone, scared, and starving.”

  “True, but she’s generally a one-man dog. Course, those pregnancy hormones are raging.” She grinned. “They sure can change a personality.”

  “Her personality is perfect.” Gramma Finnie scratched her head some more. “And I love her.”

  Pru stepped closer and put her arm around her great-grandmother. “Then you should love her enough to get her home for Christmas.”

  “Aye,” she said. “I know that, child.”

  “And it sounds like meeting Bill Cutter will be another adventure,” Pru added.

  That made Gramma smile, and Pru had to remember that that was the real purpose of this trip.

  Chapter Ten

  Pru’s sense of satisfaction disappeared the minute they walked outside to find the first fat snowflakes falling. The tourists of Holly Hills cheered, and the two groups of carolers started dueling with White Christmas and Winter Wonderland, while the retailers flashed their lights with holiday happiness.

  They were Christmas crazy, and Pru was about to be grounded for life. “You can’t drive in the snow,” she exclaimed to G
ramma.

  Gramma turned her face toward the sky and kept it there while two snowflakes hit her glasses. Another landed on her cheek. “Hush, child. ’Tis barely a drop.”

  Now. But how long until it started to build up on the road and make it slippery and dangerous as they headed into the mountains?

  Pru zipped through her options. They couldn’t just go home with this dog, could they? No. It didn’t feel right in her heart. A man who suffered from a debilitating disease had lost his best friend and possibly his reason for living. On Christmas Eve! They had to go.

  “We’ll be there and back before an inch falls,” Gramma assured her, as if she’d read her mind. “And if it gets thicker, we’ll call Waterford for help.” She added a sly smile. “We’re already in loads of trouble, child. How bad can it be?”

  Pru stifled a moan. “Bad.”

  But Gramma and Blue powered on back to the parking lot, the two of them weaving their way around pedestrians and lampposts, side by side. Blue stopped once, and they thought she might find a little grass to pee on, but she just sat on the curb and panted a bit, and, of course, Gramma Finnie waited patiently. It took a precious fifteen minutes to persuade her to get up and back to the car.

  “It’s all so unusual for her, I suppose,” Gramma said as they drove off and away from the hustle of Main Street. “Poor dear.”

  Pru spread the map the lady had made them and took her first real good look at it, which only made her heart and stomach roll around. She turned it one way, then another, and grunted in frustration. “Oh wow. There are no actual street names.”

  As Blue turned from one side to the other in the back seat, Gramma’s gaze continually shifted there. And the car drifted left.

  “Gramma.” Pru put her hand on her shoulder. “Please. Watch the road.”

  “She’s not happy.”

  “She’s had a trauma, a bath, and is in a car with strangers,” Pru reminded her. “You wouldn’t be happy, either. Just keep your eyes on the road, and I’ll watch for…” She studied the map. “A place called Hillbrook Farm.”

  “So is that an actual farm? Maybe it’s like Waterford and they have other dogs there.”