The Dog Who Came for Christmas

by Sue Pethick

  “Kieran wants a dog,” she said, taking a seat at the table. “Apparently, someone named Dr. Joan said he needed one.”

  Wendell nodded. “The counselor at school. He told me.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “I said he could ask, but that you’d probably say no.”

  He took two mugs down from the shelf, added a large spoonful of Hersey’s syrup to each, and poured in some hot milk. Then he topped them off with Bailey’s Irish Cream and brought them to the table.

  “Here you go. Good for what ails you.”

  “You’re spoiling me,” Renee said. “You know that.”

  “It’s a father’s prerogative,” he said, taking a seat across from her.

  She took a sip and felt it blaze a trail of warmth into her core.

  “Wish I’d had this on the way home. It’s freezing outside.” Renee warmed her hands on the mug. “Thanks, Dad. I needed this.”

  Wendell took a sip and smacked his lips.

  “I think you should reconsider.”

  “About the dog? Dad, please.”

  “The counselor’s right; it might be good for Kieran.”

  “Yeah, well, Dr. Joan doesn’t pay the bills around here. The answer is no.”

  A brief silence fell while the two of them savored their drinks. Renee knew her father had more to say on the subject of dogs, but for the moment, at least, he was willing to let it drop.

  “What was the meeting at school about?” he said. “Anything serious?”

  She swallowed.

  “They’re starting a program at school for kids with learning disabilities. His teacher thinks Kieran should be in it.”

  “What kind of learning disabilities?”

  Renee shook her head. Talking to Mrs. Dalton had been hard, but this was worse. Wendell and Kieran were as close as father and son—closer, when you considered how distant Greg was. She wasn’t sure how to tell him that his grandchild might be . . . flawed.

  “The school counselor mentioned something about OCD.”

  “Oh, that.” Wendell shrugged and took another sip of his hot chocolate.

  She stared. “Wait a minute. You mean you’re not surprised?”

  “Why should I be?” he said. “The kid makes faces and funny noises and counts every goddamn step he takes. If that’s not obsessive, I don’t know what is.”

  Renee found herself at a loss for words. Was she the only one who hadn’t seen what was going on?

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Why should I? Your eyes are as good as mine. I figured you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  She slumped over the table, head in hands.

  “Geez, Dad. I feel like an idiot. Here, I’ve been telling myself that Kieran’s oddball behaviors were just kid stuff. You know, something he’d grow out of. If I’d realized it was serious, I would have—” She felt her chin start to tremble. “I mean, I should have done something, right? Instead of just letting him suffer.”

  “Who says he’s suffering? It could be a lot worse. He could be washing his hands a hundred times a day.”

  She looked up.

  “Oh, God. Don’t say that, Dad, please. Don’t even think it.”

  He shrugged and took another sip.

  “So, what are they going to do?”

  Renee wiped her eyes.

  “They have to set up an appointment for Kieran to meet with a psychologist.”

  “And then?”

  She shrugged. “Therapy, I guess. They’ve got some do-gooder who’s donated the money for everything. I guess it’ll depend on how much he or she is willing to pony up.”

  “So, that’s that?”

  “For now, I guess. Yeah.”

  Wendell noted her nearly empty mug.

  “More?”

  Renee nodded. “Maybe just a little.”

  He got up and started reheating the milk.

  “So, how was the rest of your day?”

  She smiled, grateful for the change of subject.

  “Not bad. I had a few walk-ins and another referral from Savannah Hays.”

  She took the last swallow of her drink.

  “I can’t figure that woman out. On the one hand, she’s sent a lot of customers my way—which I really appreciate—but then she tells them they don’t have to tip me because they’re her referrals, so I’m working harder for less money.”

  Wendell took her mug back to the stove for a refill.

  “Can’t you tell her that?”

  She shook her head.

  “Savannah’s sort of the queen bee around there. I don’t feel like getting stung.”

  “Mmm.”

  “How about you?” she said. “How was your day?”

  “Same as always.” He set their mugs down and took a seat. “I went down to Clint’s, shot the breeze with the boys. Not much doing there.”

  She gave him an apologetic look.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out better . . . you know . . . with Butch. You kind of stuck your neck out for me.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “There’s lots of fish in the sea. We’ll find someone.”

  Renee nodded. She knew he meant well, but it was embarrassing having her father out trying to scare up dates for her.

  “Look, I appreciate the help, Dad, but you don’t have to find me another husband. I’m a big girl.”

  “I know that,” he said. “But you’ve got a job to do and three kids to raise. I don’t think you’ve even met a man on your own since we moved here.”

  “That’s not true,” she said. “I met one tonight.”

  Wendell gave her a skeptical look.

  “No you didn’t.”

  “Yes I did. He was at the school when I was waiting for Kieran’s teacher.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Travis Diehl, and he was very nice.”

  Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Did he ask you out?”

  “Well, no,” she said, deflating a bit. “I think he might have, but then Mrs. Dalton called me in and . . .”

  She sighed, feeling the loss of what might have been settle over her.

  “I don’t know, maybe he wouldn’t have. I mean, the guy went to Princeton. Why would he want to go out with someone like me?”

  “What do you mean? You’re smart enough.”

  “Anyway, I probably just misread the situation.”

  Renee set her mug down and shook her head.

  “Sometimes it just seems . . . I don’t know . . . like I’m going to be alone forever.”

  Wendell arched an eyebrow.

  “Well, there’s a happy thought.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “Just having a pity party, I guess.”

  Renee took their empty mugs to the sink to be washed. It was the impending holiday that was making her feel this way, she thought. Christmas had always been the bright spot in the year for her: the carols, the lights, the tree—even the snow was magical. But this year, the kids would be missing their dad, and the thought of everyone just hanging around the house, getting on each other’s nerves, was too much to bear. Thank goodness Jack and his family had agreed to come; she could always count on her brother to cheer her up.

  She grinned. It would be fun playing Saint Nick again. Renee suspected that Dylan and McKenna had spilled the beans to Kieran, but Lilly and Grace were sure to be avid Santa watchers, and she knew she could count on the others to play along. She’d bought candy canes for their stockings, too, and if the kids forgot theirs, she had extras in the attic. Now, if Jack and Wendell could just go two and a half days without a fight, everything would be darned near perfect.

  “I heard from Jack today. He said they’d love to come for Christmas.”

  Wendell had taken the newspaper out and was doing a Sudoku.

  “Hmm. I’ll bet he did.”

  Renee took a deep breath and tried not to let her father’s lack of enthusiasm dampen her spirits.

  “Who knows? W
ith all this cold weather we’ve been having, we might even get a white Christmas.”

  “God, I hope not.” He filled in a square. “Can you imagine getting snowed in with that bunch?”

  She turned off the water and looked at him.

  “Dad, please don’t fight with Jack this year. Christmas is going to be hard enough without the two of you going at it.”

  “That’s up to Jack,” he said. “But for your sake, I’ll try.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Savannah stood in the dark, listening to Brad Paisley on the sound system as she scanned the barroom for familiar faces. The Growler had something of a split personality, attracting two different crowds depending on which night you showed up. Fridays and Saturdays, the place was packed with young executives drinking George Dickel and Mexican Cake at the bar, fine-tuning their pickup lines before they approached the lovely belles who congregated around the tables. Every other night of the week it was rednecks, karaoke, and Bud Light.

  She spotted three members of the usual crowd sitting at a table in back. In Bolingbroke’s social hierarchy, these weren’t really “top tier” gals, but they were good for a laugh, and Savannah found the lack of competition relaxing. She caught the waitress’s eye and ordered herself a Cosmo, then headed for the table. She might be slumming, she thought, but that didn’t mean she had to lower her standards.

  Angie was the first to spot her. She stood and waved her arms while Charity and Verna scooted their chairs over to make room.

  “Hey, y’all,” Savannah said, taking a seat. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Hey,” said the others.

  Angie looked around.

  “We were just asking ourselves if you’d be here before the karaoke started.”

  “Whatever for? I told you I would.”

  “Where’s Travis?” Charity said, glancing toward the door. “I thought you said he was coming this time.”

  “It’s his brother, bless his heart,” she said. “Hugh had another one of his fits, and Travis didn’t think he should be left alone.”

  “That Hugh is a strange one.” Angie gave an involuntary shudder. “He always gave me the creeps when we were little.”

  The waitress came by and set down the Cosmo. Savannah fished out the orange peel and took a sip.

  “So,” she said. “Anything exciting going on around here?”

  Angie threw a sidelong glance at the woman on Savannah’s right.

  “Verna thinks she’s got a fish on the line.”

  Savannah grinned at the chubby redhead sitting beside her. Verna was blushing clear up to her roots.

  “Why, Miss Vee,” she said, slapping her hand. “Who’s the lucky fella? Point him out to me so I can take a gander.”

  Verna shook her head and gave the others a warning look, to no avail.

  “He’s at the bar,” Angie said. “Second one from the right. He and Vern have been sending eyeball telegrams since we walked in.”

  Savannah started to take a look, and Verna grabbed her hand.

  “Nooo,” she hissed. “I don’t want him to know we’re talking about him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Savannah murmured. “I am the soul of discretion.”

  She picked up her cocktail napkin and dropped it on the floor.

  “Oh, dear me,” she cried. “I’ll just have to pick that up.”

  “Good one,” Angie snickered. “I’m sure he won’t suspect a thing.”

  Savannah reached down and took a glance at the man Verna had her eyes on. Leaning against the bar with his knees apart and his crotch aimed in their direction, he had a bottle in one hand and a look of carnal intent that aroused an unexpected throb of animal attraction in Savannah. He was muscular—wiry rather than pumped—with broad shoulders and pale blue eyes that contrasted nicely with the kind of tan that came from years spent in the out-of-doors. The man was no Travis Diehl, of course, but he was a giant step up from the pony-tailed lowlifes and fat-bottomed truckers Verna usually hooked up with.

  “Very nice,” she said, setting her napkin back on the table. “Should be a fun evening for you. If you can reel him in.”

  “Oh, snap, Vern,” Angie said. “Sounds like Savannah is doubting your prospects.”

  Verna smirked.

  “Seems to me she’s got troubles of her own in that department.”

  A knowing look passed between the other two as they struggled to hide their amusement.

  “I told you,” Savannah said through clenched teeth. “He had to stay home and keep an eye on Hugh.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Verna sat back with a satisfied grin.

  Savannah’s lips tightened. How dare they treat her as if she was a nobody going nowhere? Back in high school, these girls would have given their eyeteeth for a single word from her, never mind an hour of her company. Why did she even bother trying to inject a little fun and excitement into their bland little lives? she wondered. This crowd wouldn’t know a good time if it smacked them in the head.

  Savannah took another sip of her Cosmo. This never would have happened if Travis had just come with her that evening. It had been months since the two of them had been out together, and she was tired offending off people’s inquiries with tales of burdensome workloads and previous engagements. Whether or not anyone believed her, they’d at least accepted that there was a solid foundation under their relationship, but it seemed that people were starting to detect cracks in the façade. If Savannah didn’t shore things up fast, there were other women in town—some with a real shot at winning him over—who might get the idea that Travis Diehl was up for grabs.

  “What’s the deal with that brother of his anyway?” Angie said. “Is he just simple or what?”

  Savannah shook her head, trying to keep her voice under control.

  “I haven’t asked what-all is wrong with him, but Travis has told me he’s autistic.”

  Now that they were on safer ground, she felt the tension in her face begin to ease. Being a source of information about the Diehl family made it look as if she was still part of their inner circle.

  Charity leaned forward.

  “I heard his wife didn’t want to take care of the brother, and that’s why she left him.”

  Savannah nodded sadly.

  “He doesn’t like to talk about it, of course, but that’s the story his mother shared with me.”

  Angie looked at her doubtfully.

  “You sure you want to take that on?”

  “Well,” Savannah said, “Hugh’s got one of those therapy dogs now, and he has a job, too, so we’re hoping to move him into a group home soon. Before the wedding, certainly.”

  “Yeah,” Verna drawled. “When is the wedding?”

  Savannah turned and gave her a frozen smile. Verna was just being pissy because she’d made that comment about reeling in the man at the bar. Well, it wasn’t Savannah’s fault if she didn’t want to hear the truth, which was that it was a lot easier for a gal like Verna to flirt with a man than to get him up off his backside to do something about it.

  Poor Verna, she thought. Poor dumpy, dull, stringy-haired Verna would never know how easy it was to make a man do what she wanted. Since her divorce, Savannah had had dozens of men pursue her—men she’d given far less encouragement to than Verna had given that guy at the bar. The little lump would never even understand how much more fun it was to be the fish rather than the fisherman. A girl could have all sorts of fun holding out for more bait. Would you cancel a meeting for me? Of course I would. Fly off on a “business trip” together? No problem. Leave the wife and kiddies? Just say the word, Savannah, and I’m all yours. Verna should be careful who she was talking to.

  A spotlight hit the stage and the KJ stepped up to announce the start of that night’s karaoke competition. Savannah scribbled her song selection on a slip and handed it in with the others’ when the waitress came by.

  “What are you going to sing tonight?” Verna said. “‘Lover Come Back’?”


  “How about ‘When You’re Gone’?” Angie said.

  Charity giggled. “Or maybe ‘Need You Now’?”

  Savannah frowned. What on earth were those ninnies going on about? They knew songs about lost love weren’t her style.

  Come to think of it, the three of them had been acting strangely ever since she got there, slipping each other sly looks like guilty kids putting one over on the teacher. Even Verna, whose backbone was about as stiff as a plate of grits, had been sassy to her—it was irritating. After Travis declined her invitation, Savannah had been hoping to soothe her ego with these hangers-on. Instead, they seemed determined to bring her down to their level. It just didn’t make sense. Unless . . .

  Was something going on with Travis that she didn’t know about, some change in his feelings for her that had gone unnoticed?

  Savannah took a sip of her Cosmo and considered the possibility. It seemed unlikely. Granted, they hadn’t seen each other in a while, but that was only because he’d been busy settling his mama’s estate and keeping the business running. And though marriage itself hadn’t been discussed, they were both free now; it was only natural that they’d finally do what they should have done years ago.

  She glanced at the others, still chattering like magpies as they looked through the songbook, and realized that something must be seriously wrong for them to oppose her so openly. They might talk big, but Savannah knew those three were cowards. The only thing that could make them this brave was knowing that she was heading for a fall, and the only thing that could bring her down like that, she thought, was losing Travis Diehl.

  The realization sent adrenaline coursing through her body. Savannah clutched the drink in her hand as a white-hot fury engulfed her. Did someone somewhere actually think they could take Travis away from her? He’d gone away to college, yes. He’d even moved away and married someone else, but she always knew he’d come back to her. And now that he had, now that happily ever after was within her grasp, nothing was going to spoil it. Travis was hers, and if anyone tried to take him away, she was going to make that person very, very sorry.