Noelle

by Greg Kincaid

  Mary Ann tried to be firmer with Todd. “Couldn’t she stay at the shelter? That way someone might adopt her. Or”—she paused for effect, an old debate trick before she made her real point—“maybe you and Elle would do better in Thorn’s old cabin. You know we kept it for you.”

  He sighed. “I don’t think the shelter is a good place for Elle, and I don’t want to live in the cabin.”

  “Why not?” Mary Ann asked, quite surprised. She was sure he’d see it her way; the cabin was the perfect solution. Best to hear him out, she thought.

  “Elle isn’t adoptable. That’s why I was trying to train her to be a service dog.”

  This made sense to Mary Ann. Todd was trying to use the training to compensate for some of Elle’s less desirable traits. Still she asked, “Why isn’t she adoptable?”

  “Most people don’t think Elle is cute like we do. They prefer purebreds. The vision in her right eye is sort of bad, from an infection she had as a puppy. She’s got too much energy for some folks. And then there’s the barking. Barkers are last in line to be adopted. We have to tell people. Otherwise they bring the dog back.”

  “I see.” She was so proud of her son she could scream. She also wanted to strangle him. He was putting her in an awful spot. He had invested so much time training a dog that nobody wanted. It was a difficult parenting moment. To rescue or not to rescue? The problem was that doing the right thing for the dog might be doing the wrong thing for Todd. “Todd, I don’t know. Elle might be too much for me.”

  “How about a few days instead of two weeks?”

  “Can you find another option for her?”

  “I can try. I’m going to talk to Doc Pelot tomorrow. She’s a distraction from me getting my work done. But,” he added excitedly, “she’s a great dog.”

  “I know she is, Todd. Okay, I’ll fill in when you’re in a jam, like now, but that’s it. Temporary. Right?”

  “Yes. That would be a big help. Thank you.” Todd looked down at his red Converse sneakers and realized the laces were untied. He bent over and tied them. He took a deep breath and asked, “Mom?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s something else. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Another dog?”

  “No.”

  “Cat?”

  “No.”

  “Possum?”

  Todd laughed. “No.”

  “What then?” Mary Ann asked.

  “I don’t want to live in the cabin. It’s not right for me—or for Laura.”

  Mary Ann leaned forward, now more curious. “What do you mean, Laura? Is she okay?” When Todd didn’t answer right away, she could tell that he was struggling to get his words out. He would eventually find them, but she was getting anxious, so she prodded him. “Is she sick? Are you two okay? You didn’t break up, did you?”

  “No.” Todd suddenly retrieved a phrase he’d heard his father use. He kind of liked it. It seemed perfect. Very casual. “Laura and I are shacked up together, in our apartment.”

  With those words it was as if the sofa had suddenly delivered an electrical shock to Mary Ann, who jumped to her feet. “Shacked up! Todd McCray, what in the world are you talking about?” Knowing that this wasn’t the best approach if she wanted Todd to keep talking, she made a heroic effort to calm herself.

  “We live in the apartment together. That’s what I mean.”

  Suddenly it all made sense. Not needing help with the move. Avoiding visits. “Todd, why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I just did.”

  “I meant sooner.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”

  Mary Ann began to pace about, feeling dazed. “You mean approve?”

  “Yes, approve of it.”

  “You’re right, I’m not sure I do approve, and I’m not sure your father will approve either.”

  “Are you disappointed?”

  Mary Ann sat back down, wondering if the room was spinning. Elle waddled over to her, raised herself on her little hind legs, and rested her furry chin on Mary Ann’s knee. The dog was a comforter. “Well, Todd, I guess I am disappointed, but I’m not sure I have the right to be. Laura is terrific. We love her. You know that.”

  “Yes. I know that.”

  Todd got up out of his chair and sat down beside his mother on the sofa. Elle, shifted down the line, now pawed at Todd’s shinbone for attention. Todd tried as hard as he could to get to the bottom of things. “Is it because we didn’t get married first?”

  Mary Ann looked at Todd. There was a man sitting beside her who seemed so patient, kind, and wise—genuinely interested in her feelings and concerns. Where did that come from? When did he grow up? She tried to consider what he’d said. “No, Todd, I really don’t think that’s it. What I feel like is that I’ve…” Inexplicably, tears came from nowhere. She struggled to get her words out. “I feel like I’ve been left out of your life. I’ve never felt that way before. It hurts.” She put her arms around her son. He leaned closer to her. Despite her tears of pain, there was also great joy. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had other boys of her own grow up into solid young men. Still, with Todd everything was different.

  “Todd, I feel like I’m losing my boy—that makes me sad. But I also feel like this really great young man keeps showing up in his place. I don’t quite know him yet. But so far I think he’s going to be terrific. Even better than the boy. That makes me so proud. I guess that’s the way it’s supposed to be, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

  Todd felt his own tears. “Can’t I be a man and still be your boy, too?”

  “Of course you can. Always.”

  Elle jumped up on the sofa, sensing the raw emotion that wafted in the air. She tried to deliver kisses, but Mary Ann pushed her away. “No, Elle. Not now—and not on my good furniture!”

  Mary Ann stood up and knocked an avalanche of dog hair off her lap. She wiped her eyes. “I only wish the darn world would stand still. Just for a day or two. I guess that never happens. Maybe it would be a pretty boring life if it did.”

  Todd’s lopsided grin returned to his face. “I like it when the world spins.”

  Mary Ann looked at her son and summed up how she felt. “Thankfully, we have people like you who help things spin in the right direction.”

  Todd wasn’t sure what she meant, but he was hopeful. “Does that mean you’re not disappointed in me?”

  “Yes, Todd, that’s what it means.”

  “Good, ’cause tomorrow I’ll bring Elle back to stay, just for a few days.”

  Mary Ann looked down at the dog and shook her head, smiling, her tears already drying. “I guess I could use a little help around here. I’m busy this time of year.”

  Earlier that same day, twelve miles down the road, back in the county courthouse, Link sat at the defense table with his court-appointed lawyer. She’d been out of law school for only a year, but she took her work seriously. The judge’s bailiff tapped the gavel to his desktop and called the next case. “The State of Kansas v. Link Robinson.”

  The prosecutor for Cherokee County responded, “May it please the court, the State of Kansas appears by and through the Cherokee County District Attorney’s Office, Assistant District Attorney Larry Sanderson.”

  Link’s attorney answered, “The defendant appears by and through his court-appointed counsel, McKenzie Clark.”

  Judge Borne peered over his glasses at the young man sitting at the defense table. “Let the record show we are here today on a charge of driving under the influence. Ms. Clark, is your client ready to answer to the charges?”

  McKenzie looked up. “Your Honor, my client is ready to enter a plea of guilty on standard probation terms that have been agreed upon by myself and Mr. Sanderson.”

  Judge Borne regarded the small scrap of paper he’d brought to the bench from his chambers. He looked up at McKenzie and then over to the prosecutor. “Is that so?”

  The prosecutor seemed surprised. “Yes, Your Honor.
The State agreed to standard probation terms. We placed them on the bench for your approval. This is Mr. Robinson’s first offense, so probation is appropriate.”

  The judge leaned back in his chair. “I’ve read over the standard terms, and I’m not sure this is a standard case. Why don’t you two sit down and relax for a minute.” Link was starting to get a rather uncomfortable feeling. He glanced at McKenzie for support. His lawyer ignored him and kept her attention focused on the judge.

  When both attorneys were seated, Judge Borne continued, opening a file on his desk. “According to the presentencing report, Mr. Robinson, you are going through a divorce and you are unemployed, now facing a guilty conviction on an alcohol charge. I believe your two young children were in the car with you at that time. Is that correct?”

  Link nodded in silence. His lawyer elbowed him, so he responded, “Yes, Your Honor, that’s correct.”

  “The file says that you’ve been attending AA meetings and you’re now clean and sober. Is that also correct?”

  Link answered, “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, before I accept your plea of guilty, do you understand that while I may consider the probation recommendation being made today, I am not bound to follow it, and this charge carries with it a thirty-day jail sentence that I could impose.”

  Link’s sinking feeling grew in intensity. “Yes, Your Honor. I understand.”

  Judge Borne leaned forward, making sure he had Link’s full attention. “My experience is that alcohol and drugs are a pitiful substitute for good work and a good family. I suppose that’s why I’m no fan of standard probation terms for you, Mr. Robinson.” He unfolded the piece of paper: the phone message from his old friend, Doc Pelot. “You don’t want to go to jail, do you?”

  “No, sir. I don’t.”

  “All right, then, I’ll give you a choice. You pick. Jail or probation. As long as you’re on probation, I’ll expect either full-time employment or twenty hours a week of volunteer service. So, which is it?”

  Lawyer and client whispered back and forth out of range of the microphones that captured witness testimony. Link seemed hesitant, as if he were willing to serve thirty days in jail, though he’d just said otherwise.

  “Link, you don’t want jail time on your record,” McKenzie whispered. “Take the community-service work. It’ll do you good.”

  Link whispered back, “Why is he making me do this?”

  “I don’t know. I think he’s trying to help you.”

  “This whole thing feels pointless. What good will volunteer work do me? I’m better off bunking in a jail cell for a month than dishing out slop at a soup kitchen and sleeping on a dirty sofa. I don’t feel like he’s giving me any real choice.”

  “You’re right. None. So suck it up, avoid jail time, and take probation with the community service,” she told her client with surprising firmness. Link shrugged his approval, begrudgingly, so McKenzie stood up to address the court. “Your Honor, my client would accept the nonstandard probation provisions the court suggests of twenty hours a week of community service.”

  The judge nodded. “Fine, Mr. Robinson, I’m going to give you the phone number for the director of our new animal shelter. Can you work with dogs and cats?”

  “Yes,” Link said, trying not to mutter his answer. Cats and dogs, really?

  The judge passed his bailiff a slip of paper to hand to Link and then said, “They don’t have enough volunteers. There are dogs that need walking, cages that need cleaning—lots of work. You can keep busy there until you find a job. Why don’t you go on out there today and get started. The sooner the better. Right?”

  Link had very little experience with animals and no experience at an animal shelter. He was about to offer up that maybe there was a better place for him to volunteer, but McKenzie gave him a sharp Don’t blow it look—a clear signal to keep his mouth shut. “Yes, Your Honor, I’ll get right over there.”

  The judge stood up, and the bailiff said, “All rise.”

  Link and the two attorneys stood while the judge disappeared out a door behind the bench. Link turned to McKenzie and gave her a mock salute. “Private Link Robinson. Chief Poop Scooper.”

  McKenzie might have thought her client was trying to have fun with it, or at least be funny, except there was no smile on Link Robinson’s face.

  After Todd left, Mary Ann wondered how she’d tell George the big news—she still couldn’t quite get over it. Maybe focusing on Anna Claus’s wardrobe problem would get her back on track. She pulled the ancient Santa suit out of the sack that Hank had given her and tried it on. It was way too large, particularly the pants. Hank was thin and frail now, but once he’d been tall and robust. He’d also filled the suit out with the generous use of pillows. The whole thing was just too big.

  She wondered if she could take in the jacket. She put her hands into the pockets and stumbled about in front of the mirror. She came to one conclusion: this outfit would not work. She looked like a child wearing her father’s clothing, which was exactly how she felt. Anna Claus needed her own outfit. When she removed Santa’s jacket, a piece of folded notebook paper fell to the floor. She reached down and picked it up. It was a note to Santa scrawled by a child. She’d be willing to bet that Hank had received many of these over the years. The yellow paper had weathered considerably. She put on her reading glasses and flattened the note on the tabletop so she could read it.

  Santa,

  My mom says you want me to always turn my homework in on time. I usually forget. Sorry. I understand if you might not get me much this year. That’s okay, I still like you. My mom wants a new winter coat. Blue is best. That’s cause her eyes are shiny and blue. My little brother needs more clothes. That’s because he always gets his dirty. My daddy just wants to come home. That’s because he misses us. He is in Vietnam.

  Love,

  Annabel Larson, 4114 Boulder Ave., Crossing Trails

  Knowing that Corporal John Larson never came back from his tour of duty caused Mary Ann to sit in the chair and cry. She’d known John Larson. She also knew that eventually Annabel Larson, MD, would remember to turn in her homework on time. And then too, she knew why Hank had kept that note and not the hundreds of others he must have received over the years.

  Mary Ann dried her eyes on his shirt cuff and, as Hank must have done, vowed to put that note in Anna Claus’s jacket pocket and never take it out.

  She wondered what Anna Claus would have said to Annabel Larson. What she needed, what Keenan and Emily Robinson needed, perhaps what, most generally, all children needed—surely it wasn’t toys. Santa could keep that job. Anna Claus needed a more poignant gift, but what was it and how could she give it? She wished she knew.

  Mary Ann stood up, walked downstairs, and put on her coat. There was heavy snow falling, so she also donned her boots, hat, and gloves.

  When she needed to think, to sort things out, she found that brushing her mare was sometimes helpful. She started at the crown of Lady Luck’s neck and brushed with the hairline first and then back up her neck, the opposite way, against the grain. Bits of dust were cast into the air like tiny stars in a distant sky. Mary Ann liked the scent of a horse. It reminded her of the smell of good loamy soil in the springtime. Full of life’s energy. She put her arms around the mare and held her tightly for a few moments. It felt good, like holding an old friend. The horse nudged her with her head. It was every horse’s signal, like a dog rolling onto his back with his hind legs pawing at the air. Lady Luck wanted her head scratched.

  Mary Ann took a step back and stared at the mare. “You don’t care a bit about being hugged by me, do you? All you want is a good head scratching.” She took the brush and ran it up and down the blaze on Lady Luck’s face. The horse pushed into the brush, clearly enjoying it.

  Mary Ann loved Lady Luck, but she had to admit that her horse just wasn’t that affectionate. That was okay. She reassured the mare, “Don’t worry, the hugs are more for me than you.” She continued brushing dow
n and across Lady Luck’s fetlocks.

  It’s hard to say where inspiration comes from, but this one hit Mary Ann hard enough that she almost dropped the brush.

  She repeated the thought: the hugs were always for her and not for the horse. Maybe that was the key. She led the mare back into the stall and repeated the thought several more times. Turning it over and over in her head, but still it was just out of her reach. She was closer, but a piece was still missing. She would make dinner and then spend the evening finishing the suit and thinking about it some more. Perhaps the answer would come to her on its own terms.

  As she peeled potatoes and George and his dog, Christmas, watched the evening news, Mary Ann gathered her nerve. She needed to have the “Todd conversation” with George, and she had no idea how it would go. “George!” she yelled into the living room. “Could you come in here, please?”

  When he was in the kitchen, he asked, “Did we win the lottery?”

  “Not exactly. It’s about Todd. But before I tell you, I want to apologize in advance for not telling you sooner. I needed time to think about it, but honestly, I’m still as muddled now as I was when he told me.”

  “Kicked out of his apartment?” George asked.

  “That would be easy. I’m afraid it’s more complicated.”

  “I’m not a big fan of complicated. Should I sit down?”

  “I would.”

  “Great.” George shuffled away from the kitchen counter and sat down at the small table that was positioned against the north wall. “Go ahead.”

  Mary Ann couldn’t hide the disappointment when she told him. “Todd and Laura are living together. ‘Shacked up’ was, I believe, the phrase he used.” Mary Ann turned back to peeling the potatoes to avoid George’s gaze.

  George stood up and asked, “Are you serious?”

  Mary Ann set the potato peeler on the counter and leaned against the countertop. “Yep. I think he was afraid to tell us. I tried to not make a big deal of it.”

  “How did that work out?” George asked with more than a tinge of suspicion in his voice.