“Maybe that’s for the best.”
He agreed, but he knew it was going to be hard on Consuela.
“You’re a good man, Jonco.”
“Hey! Alberto can call me that, but you have to find your own nickname,” he said.
“No, I like that. It suits you. Jonco Steele, the tough bone doctor with a soft heart.”
“Better not let that get around; you could ruin my reputation.” He nuzzled her ear, nipping playfully. Kelly didn’t take the hint. She wanted to talk more about the Sanchezes. “So, what can we do for them? This close to Christmas, they aren’t on any Toys for Tots list, are they? I don’t have much set aside, but I could buy a few gifts.”
“That’s sweet,” Jonathan murmured, stroking the underside of her breast.
“I know, I’ve got it! We can ask O’Toole’s if they’d put up a Giving Tree!”
“Maybe they already did one,” Jonathan said.
“No, they didn’t. I know, I eat there often enough. But we could put up the kids’ ages and people could volunteer to buy for them. We’ll give them until December 24th, so they have a few days at least, and we’ll have to deliver them on Christmas Eve, but we can do it – if we act fast.”
“Kelly, it’s late. We’ll start tomorrow, okay?”
“It’s not that late,” she said, with yet another big yawn. “I’m sleepy, but you didn’t let me get much sleep last night! Patrick will still be up. The bar doesn’t close for another couple of hours. We could go and talk to him—”
“We’re already in bed. Let it wait.”
“I could at least call him.”
Jonathan gave a deep sigh. “Yes. You can call him, if you’ll settle down then and go to sleep.”
“Thanks! I’ll be right back,” she said, bolting from the bed as though she had another couple hours of energy left in her.
Jonathan tried to wait up, but he was sound asleep before she returned.
Jonathan tried to wake her the next morning, but Kelly wouldn’t budge. He took a shower, dressed for work, and then went downstairs to make the coffee, wondering what time she had to be at her job. There on the kitchen counter sat the explanation for her exhaustion. A darling Giving Tree was all finished. Somewhere Kelly had gotten a bare tree, or tree branch, nailed it to a stand, and filled the branches with mittens cut from construction paper.
He counted the mittens, there were thirty of them! Five toys each was an awful lot. Where would the Sanchezes put all that stuff? But as he read the penciled notes on each mitten, he realized that Kelly hadn’t been that clueless. One mitten read, girl, age four, size 4 slim. Clothing item. Another read, Boy age 10, something to read. Curious, Jonathan read them all, marveling again at the thoughtful woman he’d found.
Each child had four mittens on the tree, with something to wear, something to read, something personal, and something to play with on their mitten. The remaining six mittens were for Consuela or the family, like: a turkey, cookies, curtains, and even a KitchenAid mixer.
Jonathan had learned from Alberto that his father had pawned his mother’s KitchenAid to buy booze. They’d had a big fight over that, but all the arguing in the world wasn’t going to get her KitchenAid back. She had yelled at him that she would never make him another loaf of bread, and he’d shouted something about how her bread made great boat anchors. Alberto said his mama made him take the little girls to the playground then. But how had Kelly known?
And when had she done all this? She’d been so tired last night, she could barely keep her eyes open, until she went to call her friend Patrick O’Toole about the toy drive. Well, she had a big heart, for sure, but needed more common sense! This could have waited until today. He took the stairs two at a time, then ripped the quilt and blankets from his sleeping beauty.
Kelly curled into a shivering little ball, pulling his pillow over her like a tiny blanket. Her house was drafty, the bedroom especially so. At some point, she’d put plastic up over the antique windows, but it hadn’t done much to block the cold draft seeping in through the wallpaper.
“What time do you have to be at work?” Jonathan said firmly, giving her a good shake.
“Stop it,” she whined. “I’m not going in today.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll call in sick.”
Jonathan touched her forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”
“No, I’m okay,” she mumbled. “I’m just too tired. I won’t be any good today.”
“So, you stayed up too late, which was irresponsible, and now you think that calling in sick is the answer? What about your co-workers? They expect you to be there and carry your share of the load. You’re punishing them, as they’ll have to work twice as hard to make up for your absence. That’s really cruel.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said, her lower lip protruding slightly.
“I’m sure you didn’t. Now, get up. You’re going to work, even tired.”
“You’re mean!”
“And you’re irresponsible. How did you do that whole thing last night? It must have taken you hours. Where did you get the tree?”
“I found it.”
Jonathan waited, giving her a nudge when she wasn’t forthcoming with more information.
“At Fort Custer.”
“You drove to Fort Custer last night?” He was incredulous. It was thirty minutes away, at least. An hour round trip. They’d gone to bed around ten-thirty, and talked a bit before she got up. So, she got back with the tree before midnight, and then what? “How did you know what to put on the mittens?”
“I asked Consuela,” she said, as though he wasn’t very bright.
“You called her at midnight?”
“Of course not. I called her after I talked to Patrick, before I went to the fort.”
He nodded thoughtfully. So, it could have been three or four in the morning before she came to bed. Well, she was going to go to work, and she was going to go with a very sore bottom. And then maybe she’d think twice before doing such a crazy thing again.
“Jonathan?” she said, when he tugged her over his lap. “Jonathan! No!”
The time for talking was over. She’d earned this one, and the fact she hadn’t been bursting to tell him about it in the first place showed that she’d known he wouldn’t approve. It was fine to be generous and thoughtful for the Sanchezes, but she had neglected her own health and her other responsibilities. He smacked and smacked, first one bottom cheek and then the other. She wiggled and struggled and whined and complained, but she was so tiny that it didn’t take much to hold on to her.
“Stop! Please, stop,” she sobbed.
“Why are you getting spanked?”
“Because I ticked you off, you big meanie!”
Jonathan tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. Still, the next smack was twice as hard.
“Ow! I’m sorry! I can’t help it, I just can’t stop myself. When I get an idea, I have to do it right away, or I’ll go to bed and think about it and think about it, and I won’t fall asleep anyway,” she explained, hiccupping between her sobs.
“If you have a difficult time falling asleep, that is something we can work on. It’s often because you haven’t established a regular bedtime routine and made it habit. If you always go to bed at ten, you will always be sleepy at ten. And you can learn how to turn off your thoughts long enough for sleep to take over. There are different medications and calming techniques. But your biggest problem is that once again, you went off and did something without even talking to me about it. I would have helped you get to sleep last night. I had the perfect idea in mind to relax you.”
“I’m sorry,” Kelly said simply.
He figured she probably meant it this time, and wasn’t just apologizing to get him to stop. He stilled his hand and waited.
“I know. I just didn’t feel like making love last night. I had so many other things on my mind, random thoughts. I really enjoyed meeting the Sanchezes, but it was more
than that. I mean, I felt like maybe helping people is something I’m meant to do. Something important, like a real job, not like stocking shelves at Walmart.”
Jonathan helped her up, letting her straddle his lap as he held her. “Any job is a real job, sweetheart. And there is nothing wrong with stocking shelves at Walmart.”
“It’s not like being a doctor.”
“No, it’s not. It’s like being a shelf-stocker. My job is to help people have strong, healthy bones. Sometimes that means surgery; sometimes a cast, or braces. But when my job is over, I go to Walmart to buy the things I need. And if someone hasn’t stocked the shelves, I wouldn’t be able to buy those things. So even though I work hard, and earn good money, I would have to go without. No job is meaningless, if it is done well and with dignity.”
She nodded, her sobbing slowing down as she snuggled into his embrace. “I guess. But, I went to college for a couple of years, and dropped out because I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Now, I think I do. I think I’m meant to be a social worker.”
Jonathan thought for a moment. It would mean returning to school. Maybe two or three years of classes. It could take her away from him, but if their love was strong, this would make it stronger. “That’s wonderful, honey. It’s a tough job. Many people burn out on it. But you’re strong. I’d bet you’d make a good social worker.”
“You aren’t just saying that to make me feel good?” She looked up at him shyly. His Kelly had never seemed insecure before. She was a whirlwind of confidence and activity. She knew so much about so many things – like the best kind of Christmas tree, how to make a Giving Tree, how to amuse four little girls while he helped their mama with the dishes, how to run a dog sled team, and more. While she didn’t have a four year college degree, she was more knowledgeable than half the professors he’d known.
“I will never lie to you, Kelly-girl. I promise you that. If I didn’t think this could be good for you, I’d say so. I’m sure you won’t rush into this, instead, take some time to think about it. Maybe interview a few social workers – if they have the time. Read about it, see what’s offered locally, or if you’d be better going out of state for your degree. Maybe you’ll need to start in the fall, not this coming January.”
She nodded, then yawned again.
“But now, you do need to get ready for work,” he admonished.
“Okay, but I won’t be very useful,” she warned.
“Yes, you will. You are going to work your butt off, and do every bit as much work as you would have done had you not stayed up all night, or I’ll warm that very cute butt again tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, with a mock salute. “On the double, sir!” She scrambled off his lap then and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. “I’m already going to be late. I’ll call and let them know I’m on my way, though, so they don’t panic.”
“You’ll get an extra smack for every minute you’re late,” he called out.
“Oh my gosh, I’ll never sit down again!”
“Better make that a quick shower. I’ll pack you something you can eat in the car. Will I see you for dinner?”
“Only if you open your eyes,” she called over the sound of the shower. He imagined her naked, standing in the warm spray, her bottom pink and stinging, and he really didn’t want to go to work himself. He stood then, trying to change his thoughts before he became any more uncomfortable.
Ten minutes later she was out the door, fully dressed and fully awake, a lidded coffee mug in one hand, two pieces of peanut butter toast in the other. “That’s ten swats at bedtime,” he warned playfully.
She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Only if you can still see me,” she answered. “I plan to buy you drink after drink at O’Toole’s, when we bring in the Giving Tree.”
Yup, she was a hand full. And Jonathan loved her for it.
That was the longest day at Walmart Kelly had ever worked. She chugged three cans of coke after two large coffees, just trying to get enough caffeine to stay awake. Her hands had started trembling from the overload, but still she ached all over and couldn’t seem to stop yawning. She directed some customers to the wrong aisle several times, dropped a load of candles, breaking most of them, and then she tripped over a wooden pallet and sliced her hand on an exposed nail. Her supervisor scolded her and sent her home with a warning.
She felt awful about the whole thing. Yes, it was just a job at Walmart, and she didn’t think it was a real job, but it would really suck to be fired anyway. Like, what a loser she was if she couldn’t even do a simple job for Walmart. Then she thought about Jonathan’s explanation that morning, that no job was unimportant, and she felt even lower than low. But, ever the optimist, at least she could get a nap in before her dinner with Jonathan.
“So, tell me again how you cut your hand?” Jonathan asked as he gently dabbed at the nasty wound with a sterile cotton ball.
Kelly groaned. “I told you, I tripped. There was wooden pallet on the floor, and I landed on it. Not my most graceful moment.” She winced when he tried to pull out a splinter imbedded in the gash.
“Maybe it wouldn’t have happened if you’d had a good night’s sleep?”
“Maybe. But it was an accident! Accidents happen.”
“Unless they are preventable.” Jonathan wasn’t going to let up on this one. She needed to learn this lesson for good.
“Yes. You’re right. I should have gotten a good night’s sleep before going to my so important job stocking shelves so rich doctors don’t have to go without.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Very good, brat.”
“I told you I washed it already,” she complained, trying again to tug her hand free.
“You know about mushing. I know about wound care. Now sit still. This doesn’t need stitching, but if we don’t get it clean, it will get infected. And instead of having a sore hand for a day or two, you could be out of work for a week. If you got a serious infection, you could lose the use of your hand. When was your last tetanus booster?”
“Two years ago, when I broke my arm.”
“Okay then.” Jonathan kept talking to her, trying to distract her while he cleaned the cut. It was small, as cuts go, but rusty nails were notorious for causing infections. And this was the third time in the space of weeks that she’d injured one of her hands. She really was accident prone. Good thing he was a doctor.
Finishing up, he wrapped her hand with gauze and a strip of medical tape. “Now, if you’re finally ready,” he said with a teasing glint in his eye, “let’s get that Giving Tree to O’Toole’s.”
The crowd at the Irish Pub were excited about the tree, especially when they learned that the family lived in the neighborhood. A couple of bikers took some paper mittens. The old couple sharing a plate of spaghetti took several. The regulars at the bar each took a mitten. Patrick carried the tree up to the restaurant for a while, and more mittens disappeared. When Jonathan insisted it was time to go, Kelly was thrilled to note that all the mittens were gone, even the one asking for a KitchenAid.
“They’re going to have the best Christmas ever,” Kelly announced.
“I don’t know if that’s true. They do have a lot of things to deal with – like their dad, and such. But you have done all you can to help them.”
“Yes, you’re right. Again. Are you ever wrong?”
“I thought I was once, but I was mistaken,” he quipped.
He drove her home and tucked her into bed. Then he made love to her before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Alberto and Maria came over the next afternoon to work with the dogs; Jonathan wasn’t sure how it was going to work out. He’d never had a dog, never trained one, didn’t know how to train one.
Alberto brought a small handful of treats and tried to make one of the huskies sit, but all seven dogs crowded around him, sniffing and licking to get the treats.
Maria was a little afraid of the dogs, and wouldn’t get off the back porch.
&nb
sp; Kelly grabbed several by their collars and tried to stuff them inside, wincing when it hurt her injured hand.
Jonathan pulled out his cell phone and dialed Zeb, the old musher who had given him a ride, and drove his car back the day Kelly had been bitten by the stray.
“I’ll come right over,” Zeb offered. “I’ve been trying for years to get that young lady to train her dogs. What’s your secret?”
“I threatened to spank her.”
Zeb chuckled. “Yup. You’ll do.”
When he arrived, he came with yet another dog. This one was big and black, not a husky at all.
Jonathan stared at it; it looked familiar. It was the dog that had attacked Kelly.
“You can’t let that animal out here, we have two kids in back!” Jonathan yelled.
“Prince won’t hurt them,” Zeb promised. “He’s a real prince of a dog. Just needed someone who understood him, is all. He needed to be a part of a pack, with a real alpha leader, not some nincompoop who didn’t know his head from a hole in the ground.”
Zeb proceeded to demonstrate. “Prince, sit. Stay.” He didn’t raise his voice, or point, or gesture or dangle a treat. He simply spoke and the dog obeyed. He walked to the backyard, opened the gate, but Prince didn’t move. Kelly’s huskies poured out of the fenced yard, bouncing all around the new dog, but Prince remained sitting, perfectly calm and not baring his teeth at all.
The huskies sniffed and licked and prodded. When they grew tired of the obedient animal, they found a more interesting game, like chasing a squirrel or Alberto.
Jonathan was duly impressed. The change had been so complete, and so fast. Could Zeb make that kind of difference with Kelly’s pack?
Zeb herded everyone into the backyard. Five huskies were put on leashes, the other two were put inside. Then he demonstrated how to walk a dog, how to hold the leash, what to expect, how to check the dog to keep him from pulling. He didn’t use training treats, which he said ruined the dog’s focus. He used calm words of praise, then repetition, with tiny new things added, so the dog wouldn’t get bored, or try to anticipate what was coming next. An hour later, there was already some improvement. Her dogs could learn to walk on a leash.
12 Naughty Days of Christmas 2018 Page 53