Bark! the Herald Angels Sing

by Roxanne St Claire

  “I have no idea. It’s a…place.” Pru forced herself to stay calm and focused, despite the fact that the day had spiraled far out of her control. “Whatever it is, we turn left after it.”

  “Got it.” Gramma shot her a quick look and then reached over to pat Pru’s leg. “Chill, as you would say.”

  Pru just sighed.

  “Child, we’re having fun. We’re doing something worthwhile and different. It’s Christmas Eve, and you have to remember that sometimes life isn’t quite the straight line that you had planned. That’s what makes it wonderful.”

  Pru managed a smile and a nod, tamping down the growing sensation of dread as the snow started to slowly turn the road ahead a nice, bright, slippery white.

  “Just stay focused, Gramma. Keep your eyes on the road, and we’ll be fine.” She peered up at the slate-gray sky and the slow, steady snowfall. Mom must be out of her mind with worry.

  She grabbed her phone to see if she’d responded to the news that they found the dog’s owner. She had. “Ouch.”

  “What did she say?” Gramma asked.

  “Six—count ’em, six—angry-face emojis. All of which I totally deserve.”

  “You do not,” Gramma shot back. “I do, but not you. Tell her this is entirely my fault and she should be mad at me, not you.”

  “We’re both to blame,” Pru said. “But I need to tell her where we’re going just in case Old Man Cutter decides to kill us.”

  “Prudence!”

  “I’m kidding.” Kind of. Swallowing that truth, she typed a text.

  Mom, please don’t be mad or worried. Things just didn’t quite go our way. But just so you know, we’re on our way to find a man named Bill Cutter, who lives ten(ish) miles northwest of Holly Hills, past a place called Hillbrook Farm. He’s very distraught about losing his dog, and Gramma and I are going to make his Christmas Eve!

  She hit send and put the phone away, not wanting to see the seven angry faces that would be the response. Plus, she had to concentrate, because the road got windy and steadily rose with the foothills as they drove into the Blue Ridge Mountains. With each mile, Gramma seemed to drive slower, making the ride seem interminable, but eventually they reached an abandoned roadside fruit stand with a faded hand-painted sign that said, Hillbrook Buy Local Honey Here.

  “Is that Hillbrook Farm?” Pru wondered. “Should we take the next left?”

  “Just tell me where to go, lass.” Despite her lilting brogue, Gramma leaned a little closer to the steering wheel, practically pulling the thing into her chest now.

  “You okay?” Pru asked as the weight of how dangerous this was pressed on her. “’Cause you don’t have to drive, Gramma.”

  “Pffft. I drove a horse cart from the port all the way back to my farm in the snow.” She spoke through slightly gritted teeth. “I surely can get a 2016 Toyota Avalon through the foothills in a dusting.”

  Pru’s heart thumped with each slow turn of the tires, dread building as she peered through the windshield wipers, which were now pushing a fairly significant amount of snow. “Okay. I think I see…wait. There. There’s a turn there. Looks like a driveway.” Pru leaned all the way forward, squinting through snow. “Yes, that’s the road. Turn. Now.”

  Gramma hit the brakes a little hard, and they swerved, gasped, then she righted the car and started to chug up a hill.

  “Oh…” Pru pressed her hands to her chest. “This is kind of steep.”

  “We’re fine,” Gramma assured her, although her white-knuckle grip said differently.

  “Is this road even paved?” It was impossible to see where they were going.

  “Paved enough. How far up this hill do we go?”

  Pru looked down and studied the map. “Hard to say,” she admitted. “Just go straight.”

  “Can’t.” The road suddenly curved to the left, the unexpected turn making Gramma fling the wheel that way, and the backend whipped out in the other direction. In a flash of panic, Gramma smashed the brakes, which sent them spinning almost all the way around, the car skating on ice until it finally came to a stop.

  They both shrieked and Blue barked, but after a second, Pru realized everything was fine…except for the two back tires hanging off of the shoulder over a ditch.

  “Oh, sweet St. Patrick, I’m so sorry.” Gramma closed her eyes. “That one took me by surprise.”

  “It’s okay,” Pru assured her, patting her arm, trying to calm her own beating heart and figure out how bad it was. She turned to look out the side. Bad. “It’s fine. We’re fine. Just hit the gas and see if we can get back on the road.”

  She revved the accelerator, and the back wheels spun loudly in mud or ice or some combination of both.

  “Try again,” Pru said.

  But Gramma turned to look at Blue, who’d started whimpering. “She’s scared, too.”

  “No need to be.” Pru reached to take off her seat belt. “Let me see how stuck we are.”

  “Saints alive,” Gramma muttered, staring into the back seat. “Oh dear.”

  “Just let me look.”

  “No…it’s not the car.” Gramma adjusted her bifocals to get a better look. “It’s the dog.”

  At the soft whisper of the last word, Pru followed Gramma’s gaze to Blue, who’d finally settled in a corner, panting. And then she noticed the wet spot on the leather. A big, dark, gooey wet spot.

  “She peed,” Pru said. “She must be really scared. I’ll sit with her when—”

  “I don’t think that’s pee, child.” Gramma’s eyes were locked on Blue, who, for the first time, didn’t look back. Instead, her head was down, focused on her bottom and belly. “Her water broke.”

  Oh, that’s why she was restless. Pru processed this news with one simple thought: They had to get this dog home.

  “I’ll push the car out of the mud.” She reached for the door handle and yanked it open, stepping out into the snowy cold. “You just gently hit the gas, and I’ll push.”

  “Aye, lass. But be careful. We can call for help.”

  “If we have to.” Or have time. “Just let me see if a little push will get us going.”

  But the minute she saw the right tire halfway disappeared in mud and snow, she knew she didn’t have the strength to push the car up the hill. She let Gramma accelerate anyway, which shot some slush in the air and on her clothes but did nothing.

  “Okay. I’ll call Mom,” she said, climbing back in as Gramma turned off the engine, her attention 100 percent on Blue.

  “Aye, it would be good to have a vet,” she said.

  Pru pulled out her phone and blinked in surprise when she saw the Text Not Delivered red notification next to the last one she’d sent. Which meant Mom didn’t know where she was after all.

  “Aw, geez. Mom’s going to be apoplectic.” She re-sent the text, peering at the bars of service. No, fix that. The zero bars of service. “Give me your phone, Gramma.”

  She did and then opened her door to get in the back with Blue. Pru unlocked Gramma’s phone and prayed for service. But no such luck.

  She closed her eyes, hating to deliver this news. “We don’t have cell service out here.”

  But Gramma Finnie was already in the back with Blue, stroking her head. “Then we’ll have to have a litter right here in the car, won’t we?”

  Seriously? Could this get any worse? Pru leaned back and looked up at the sky, knowing full well that there was no end in sight to this snow. So, yes, this most certainly could get worse.

  Should she leave an old woman alone in a car with a dog in labor and walk for help? Or stay and protect them both? Pru, whose life was firmly dictated by doing the right thing, simply didn’t know what the right thing was this time.

  * * *

  Molly slammed the Jeep door behind her, blinking up at the snow that dropped like dust on her cheeks and the tears she was about to shed.

  “If it’s snowing here, it’s worse in Holly Hills.” She squeezed her phone and stared at the screen
she’d refreshed a hundred times in the last few hours. “Why isn’t she answering my texts?”

  “She may not have service.” Trace came up behind her and wrapped both strong arms around her. “She’s going to be fine, babe. They’re returning the dog and coming straight home, but just in case, let’s rally the troops and launch a proper search.”

  She sighed and turned to look up at him, letting herself lean against his chest and feel the heart she’d come to love so completely in the past year. “I’m scared, Trace.”

  “Shh.” He tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes. “We’ve been through worse. And we’ll go through worse. But being scared doesn’t change a thing. We have the world’s strongest, smartest family behind us, we have each other, and our daughter is the most responsible, mature, level-headed girl that ever walked this earth.”

  She managed a smile. “A miracle, considering she was conceived in the most irresponsible, immature, dizzy-headed way imaginable.”

  “But fun,” he whispered, adding a kiss.

  “That’s what they were looking for,” she mused, making him draw back.

  “A roll in the back of a van? Sorry, but Gramma’s too old, and Pru…” His eyes widened in horror. “Don’t even go there for twenty years.”

  That made her laugh. “I told you I heard them talking in the living room.”

  He nodded. “Pru was upset about the wedding planner. But Gramma?”

  “I didn’t hear what she said, but I’ve been picking up vibes in our conversations. I really think she’s bored and feeling her age lately.”

  He stroked her cheek. “So they’re having a little adventure. They won’t do anything stupid.”

  “Driving to Holly Hills on Christmas Eve was stupid.”

  “If that’s the worst thing she does, we should count our blessings.”

  He was right, of course, but still she clung to him—and his faith in their daughter—as they walked back toward the kennels to find everyone and discuss the best thing to do: wait or search.

  In her heart, she already knew what the Kilcannon clan would want to do. Even on Christmas Eve. Oh heck. Especially on Christmas Eve.

  Shane came out of the kennels with his Staffy, Ruby, on his heels. The minute he saw her face, his easy smile faded to a worried expression on his chiseled features. “No luck?” he asked.

  Molly shook her head. “And we’ve lost touch with her by phone.”

  “Dad and Garrett are back there,” he said, angling his head toward the auxiliary training field behind the kennels. “I’ll get Darcy, and she’ll bring Josh. Aidan and Beck are in the air on their way back from Savannah and should land at the airstrip any minute. In fact, I can send him a message to fly to Holly Hills.”

  It might be easier to get there by air than car. “That’s a good idea,” Molly said. “And everyone else?”

  “Everyone’s here. Liam’s in the back with Genghis. Andi and the kids are already in the house baking for tonight. So are Jessie and Chloe. We’ll call the Mahoneys, although Connor and Braden pulled duty at the fire station until five. Ella’s probably on her way here with Aunt Colleen. Not sure if Declan’s on duty, too, but he can call in to the Holly Hills station for backup.”

  With every word, Molly felt more of her worry lift.

  “Okay,” Trace said. “Let’s meet in the kitchen and set up a plan.”

  As they rounded the kennels to get Dad and Garrett, Trace tightened his grip on Molly’s arm.

  “Nothing rivals the power of the Kilcannons in a crisis,” he said.

  She nodded, looking up at him. “Is it a crisis?” she asked, hating the lump forming in her throat.

  “Not yet,” he assured her. But deep inside, she knew he was as worried as she was. He was just being strong for her.

  Not ten minutes later, the Waterford Farm kitchen was packed with Kilcannons. With each new arrival, Molly’s heart lifted with hope. As she brought them up to speed on all she knew, Dad made coffee, filling the house’s most central gathering place with a familiar and comforting aroma.

  Her brothers Shane, Garrett, and Liam sat at the counter in their usual seats, but not wearing their usual relaxed expressions. Sisters-in-law Jessie and Chloe were close by, quietly finishing some of the preparations they’d been working on for tonight’s family party.

  Molly put her arms around both women, pressing her head to Jessie’s shoulder, her friend since childhood.

  “Thanks, guys,” she whispered. “Gramma should be here doing this.”

  “Shhh.” Jessie gave her a squeeze. “Everything’s going to be fine, Molly.”

  She hoped so.

  At the table, Andi sat with her son, Christian, who was anxiously picking tiny pieces of candy off the gingerbread house he’d made with Pru a few days ago, while baby Fiona slept in a carrier on the table.

  “They’re going to be okay, Molly,” Andi said, gently taking her son’s hand from the house he was going to ruin, giving him a much-needed hug of reassurance. “They’re going to come walking in that door any minute.”

  “If not, Jag’ll find them,” Christian piped in, and on cue, the mighty head of his German shepherd lifted. “Right, Daddy?” he called to Liam. “Can’t Jag find anyone?”

  “Anyone,” her brother answered. “You bet Jag can find them, Son.”

  “And Shane’ll turn this state upside down himself if Pru or Gramma need help,” Chloe whispered.

  Molly felt light-headed with love for all of them. The only thing bigger than her brothers’ shoulders were their hearts. And right now, those shoulders were lined up at the counter, hunched over phones, maps, and weather reports.

  But then the kitchen door popped open, and human sunshine poured in.

  “Molly!” Darcy, the youngest and always brightest of the clan, flew into the room, arms extended toward her sister, her two dogs at her heels. “I just read the family group text. Holly Hills? What were they thinking?” She glanced at her brothers as Kookie and Stella bounded under the table to sniff Rusty, Dad’s sleeping setter.

  “Did you find anything when you poked around Gramma’s apartment?” Molly asked her. “Any clue what they might be doing up there?”

  “Looking for old, new, borrowed, and blue things. But I didn’t see anything specific.”

  “Is Josh coming?” Liam asked Darcy. “We need another truck.”

  “He’s on his way.” Darcy set her phone on the counter. “Aidan and Beck just texted that they filed a new flight plan and are landing at a private airfield near Holly Hills that he knows of.”

  Not a single Kilcannon hesitated when one was in need, Molly thought as she pulled her little sister closer and planted a kiss on Darcy’s blonde head. “You’re the best, Darce.”

  “We got this, Molls.” Dad came closer, offering her a cup of coffee that was as comforting as his favorite nickname for her.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  He cleared his throat, and all the chatter in the room quieted. No matter how old they got, how married, independent, and grown, when this man took the center of the room, every man, woman, and child with Kilcannon blood listened.

  “We can’t just head off without a plan or strategy,” Dad said. “And nobody should be alone. Let’s break into twos and check the routes so we cover all the possibilities.”

  “She didn’t say anything about what she was doing?” Shane asked. “Why not? That’s not like Pru or Gramma Finnie.”

  Dad cocked his head. “My mother can be pretty spontaneous. At least, when she was younger.”

  “Well, Pru’s not,” Trace said. “It would take a pretty compelling reason for her to slide this far off track.”

  Molly shook her head as the gut punch of guilt hit again “But she wanted to ‘own’ a piece of the wedding, and I agreed—no, I encouraged her to make it a surprise.” She closed her eyes against some unexpected tears. “This is all my fault for not—”

  “Hush.”

  “Stop.”

  “Not y
our fault they took off at dawn on a day we were expecting snow.”

  “Don’t you dare take the blame.”

  She looked around at her family, a rush of affection drowning out the guilt. “You’re right,” she agreed. “But I still don’t have a clue why they’d go to Holly Hills. What’s there that isn’t in Bitter Bark, other than two hundred Santas and reindeer?”

  “I have an idea,” Dad said, snapping his fingers. “Can someone grab Gramma’s laptop?”

  “Got it,” Darcy said, shooting up and out the door to the hall.

  “Who knows her password?” Dad asked.

  “I do.” At least seven voices chimed in.

  “If you’re going to check her blog, you’re in for a disappointment,” Jessie said. “I keep waiting for her Christmas entry, and she hasn’t made it yet.”

  “I think she has writer’s block,” Andi added from the table. “She made a comment the other day when I picked Fiona up.”

  Molly nodded in agreement. “I think that’s the root cause of all her restlessness. She has writer’s block.”

  “She has life block,” Dad said, making them all look at him. “I’ve sensed a real restlessness in her that I remember from when my father died.”

  When Darcy came zooming back in, she already had the laptop open and on. “Is it wrong if we check her internet history, Dad?” she asked.

  “It’s wrong if we don’t,” he said, clicking keys.

  Molly exchanged a bittersweet smile with Trace. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said.

  “The fact that your grandmother has an internet history is what makes her so special,” he replied. “One of the many things.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder, forcing herself to think of other clues. “Where would they go for something old, new, borrowed, or blue?”

  “Okay,” Dad said, his attention on the screen. “Her last search was ‘jewelry repair.’”

  Molly inched closer. “That makes sense for something old. Anything in Holly Hills?”

  “Yep. One called Emerald Isle Jewelers.”

  “That sounds like the one Gramma Finnie would pick,” Garrett said.