It's a Christmas Thing

by Janet Dailey

  Buckaroo’s, a burger and pizza joint on the corner of Main Street, had a down-at-the-heels look about it. The bulbs on the string of Christmas lights above the counter were dulled with smoke and grease, and the aging speakers that blared country Christmas music needed replacing; but there was comfort in the sameness of the place. And the food was always good.

  The lunch crowd had cleared, giving Rush and Tracy their choice of booths. They slid into the one in the farthest corner, where they could talk.

  “So, have you found homes for the kittens?” he asked, making small talk as they sipped sodas and waited for their pizza.

  “All but Snowflake. Maureen, from work, called me yesterday. Her little granddaughter wants a kitten, so Midnight is spoken for. Just like that. They’re so cute. I’ll miss them when they’re gone.”

  “But you’re keeping the mother?”

  “Oh, yes. Rainbow has found a place in my heart. She even caught the mouse that startled me under the sink.”

  “You could keep Snowflake, too. The cats would keep each other company. And at least Clara would know where he was.”

  “I’ve thought about that. Snowflake would be safer with me than on the ranch. But Rush, there has to be a way for Clara to keep him.”

  “She asked for a miracle. That’s what it’s going to take.”

  “Couldn’t Andre just take allergy pills, or stay away from the cat?”

  “Maybe. But Andre isn’t the accommodating sort. Everything has to revolve around him and what he wants. He was the one who insisted that I be kept away from Clara. Didn’t want the competition.” Rush gave himself a mental slap. “Sorry, I promised myself I wouldn’t put him down. He is Clara’s father, after all.”

  Just then the server appeared with their pizza. Tracy had said she was hungry, but she nibbled at the single slice she’d put on her plate as if forcing herself to eat. Something, Rush sensed, was wrong. He’d suspected it earlier but dismissed the thought. Now the worry returned.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked her.

  “Fine. Just a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

  “I’ve missed you,” he said. “I told you I was going to be busy for the next couple of weeks, and I have been. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you. I hope you understand.”

  “Oh, I do. It’s not that at all.”

  “But it’s something, isn’t it? I can tell. Does it have anything to do with me?”

  “Yes and no.”

  He reached across the table and captured her hand. “I’ve never told you how I feel, because you’ve said you weren’t ready for anything serious,” he said. “But I’ve tried to show you how much I care about you, Tracy. If I’m pushing you where you don’t want to go—”

  “No, it’s not even that.” She was on the verge of tears, Rush could tell. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  The old breakup line hit Rush like a punch below the belt. He felt as if he’d had the breath kicked out of him, but he was determined not to show it. “Have I taken too much for granted?” he asked. “Are you having second thoughts about us? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  Tracy shook her head. “Please don’t ask me anything else. There’s something I haven’t told you, that’s all. I’ll tell you in the car.”

  Neither of them felt like finishing the meal. Rush left a tip on the table, helped her with her jacket, and held the door as they went outside. Cloaked in a silence that matched the dark clouds spilling over the distant hills, they crossed the empty parking lot and climbed into the Hummer. The inside was still warm. There was no need for Rush to start the engine and turn on the heater.

  “Here?” he asked. “Or do you want me to drive?”

  “Here, I guess,” she said.

  Rush felt his gut clench as he waited. He should have known that the budding relationship with this woman was too good to be true. When she dumped him, as he was sure she was about to do, he would take it like a man. But it would hurt like hell.

  “I’m listening.” He paused. “It’s all right, Tracy. Whatever it is, I’ll handle it.”

  She took a breath. Rush could sense her anguish. At that moment he would have done anything to fight her battles, charge to her rescue, ease her pain.

  But then she spoke.

  “Hear me out, Rush. I’ve seen what a wonderful father you are to Clara. And I can imagine how loving you’d be with children who were your own flesh and blood, children nobody could take away from you. You deserve to have those children with a woman who can give them to you. No matter how much I might care for you, and you for me, I’m not that woman.”

  Rush reeled inwardly as the truth dawned—a truth he’d never considered, let alone expected.

  “Steve and I tried for years to have a baby.” Her voice trembled as she continued. “We never did. It took a doctor to prove that it wasn’t his problem, it was mine. I won’t go into details, but I can’t get pregnant. Not ever.”

  He found his voice. “Tracy—”

  “No, there’s nothing you can say. I should’ve told you sooner, but it was so personal. And I didn’t know I would come to feel this way about you.”

  “What way?”

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  The Hummer was getting chilly inside. Rush turned on the engine and dialed up the heater. Outside, a cold wind blew dry leaves against the windshield.

  “Damn it, Tracy, listen to me. Do you think that’s all I care about? Sure, having a family is important to me. But there’s more than one way to get one. I couldn’t love Clara more if she’d been born to me. And I’d feel that way about any child I took in as my own.”

  “You’re saying that now,” Tracy said. “But you need time to think about it. There are some lovely women in Branding Iron. Some of them already have children and could have more. Maybe you should try dating them.”

  “So what are you saying?” She was getting to him. Rush could feel his frustration building. “If you’re trying to break up with me, just do it. Don’t use an antiquated excuse that makes me look like Henry the Eighth.”

  Tracy’s hands clenched in her lap. “All I’m saying is that we should spend some time apart—time for you to decide whether you want a relationship that won’t give you the family you deserve.”

  “Or give you time to realize that it doesn’t matter.”

  “Fine.” She turned away and gazed ahead, through the windshield. “At least we’re in agreement about something. I think it’s time you took me home.”

  Rush drove the short distance to Tracy’s house with her sitting in silence beside him. His head was still spinning. What else could he have said? Nothing, he realized. Of course, he’d rather have children of his own flesh and blood. But if having a woman he could love meant doing things differently, he could live with that. Plenty of happy couples did.

  All he could do was back off and hope Tracy would come around to his way of thinking. One thing was certain—he wasn’t about to come around to hers.

  He pulled the Hummer into her driveway. She opened her own door and slid off the seat.

  “Tracy.”

  She turned back to look at him. He saw the gleam of tears in her eyes.

  “Call me if you want to talk, or if you need anything,” he said. “I mean it.”

  She shook her head. “We both need time.” With that she slipped to the ground, closed the door behind her, and fled into the house.

  Rush drove back to the ranch. A sooty bank of clouds moving in from the west added to the gloom of the day—the kind of clouds that brought icy rain or thin, powdery snow that would blow away on the wind.

  He battled the urge to pick up his cell phone, call Tracy, and try to put this nonsense to rest. But no, he had to respect her wishes to be left alone. All he could do was keep busy and hope for the best.

  * * *

  Even with the tree-selling season past its peak, the partners were working long hours. Late buyers still flocked
to the ranch and to Hank’s tree lot for their fresh trees. The thought of the cash flowing in was enough to keep the partners in good spirits, but the pace was exhausting. They were all anxious for the coming holiday, when they could rest and celebrate a profitable season.

  Rush had cut back his veterinary practice to emergency calls only, so he could help at the ranch. It helped to keep busy. Still, every spare moment found him thinking about Tracy. A week had passed since he’d let her off at her house. Still she hadn’t called.

  Clara had begged him every day to take her to Tracy’s to see the kittens. It had been hard, telling her he was too busy. But he was doing his best to keep her entertained.

  She was still spending time with the McFarlands. She also enjoyed playing with Bucket and “helping” with the tree sales when customers came. Rush had checked out a big box full of picture books and easy readers from the library. With a little instruction in the basics, Clara was learning to read. They read together every night before she went to bed. Rush cherished every moment of these times, knowing they would never come again.

  Busy as he was, the thought of Tracy was never far from Rush’s mind. Did she miss him? Had she come to realize that as long as they had enough love, they could find a way to have a family? True, they hadn’t spent enough time together to develop a solid relationship. But he’d sensed from the beginning that he and Tracy were meant to be together. He could only hope that she felt the same way.

  He’d fantasized about his future family with her. Now the picture he imagined had changed—their children, not alike or like them, perhaps of different races, maybe even with special needs. The only constant was that they would all be loved.

  He yearned to call her and hear her voice, but every time he reached for the phone, he checked himself. She’d asked him for time. He would give it to her.

  * * *

  It was after midnight, a week before Christmas, when Rush’s ringing phone woke him out of a sound slumber. As his sleep-blurred vision focused on the display, his heart slammed. The caller was Tracy.

  “What is it?” He was instantly wide awake.

  “It’s Murphy.” She was sobbing, barely able to speak. “He’s in pain. I think he’s dying. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Stay with him. Comfort him as much as you can. I’ll be right there.”

  He flung on his clothes and boots. After pausing to wake Travis to tell him where he was headed, and to make sure Clara would be looked after, he grabbed his keys and raced out the front door.

  Outside, it was snowing. Thick flakes swirled out of the night black sky, cloaking the world below in white velvet. Rush scarcely noticed the storm as he sprinted toward the Hummer and cleared the windshield with a sweep of his hand. Heedless of the snow, he started the engine with a roar, backed out of the drive, and shot down the lane to the highway.

  Minutes later, he pulled up to the curb in front of Tracy’s house. Before getting out of the vehicle, he reached back for his medical bag. Included in its contents was an injection kit for putting animals out of their suffering. If he needed to use it, he could only hope that Tracy would allow him to do the right thing.

  Through the closed front blinds, he could see the glow of a single lamp. He opened the unlocked door and stepped into the living room.

  Dressed in faded flannel pajamas, Tracy was huddled on the floor next to the unlit fireplace. The old dog lay in his bed, not curled as usual, but on his side, with his head in her lap.

  As Rush walked in, she raised a tear-stained face. Her eyes were swollen from weeping. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “He seemed all right when I went to bed, but when I woke up in the night, I found him like this. He flinches if I touch his body, and he’s barely breathing.”

  “Let’s see what I can find out.” Rush used the stethoscope in his bag to check Murphy’s heart and lungs. His pulse was thready, his breathing the barest broken whisper.

  “Can you do anything for him?” Tracy asked. “I know he must be suffering.”

  Rush laid a hand on her shoulder, his touch as light and gentle as he could make it. He could feel her trembling.

  “I think Murphy is telling you it’s time to go,” he said. “How it happens is up to you. We can put him to sleep, or we can wait for as long as it takes.”

  “How long?”

  “Not long. Maybe a few hours.”

  “Isn’t there anything you can do to save him?” she pleaded.

  “Even if there was, I wouldn’t be doing the old boy any favors. His body is failing. Take your time, Tracy. Either way, I’ll support your decision.”

  Tracy stroked the old pit bull’s massive head. Rush could feel her anguish. The dog was more than a beloved pet. He was her last living tie to the husband she still mourned.

  Her throat moved as she swallowed and took a breath. “He’s suffering. It would be selfish to put him through this any longer.”

  “You’re sure.” It wasn’t a question.

  She nodded, fresh tears flowing down her cheeks.

  Rush prepared the IV for the injection. “Don’t worry. It’ll be painless. He’ll just go to sleep.”

  Tracy held the dog, stroking and kissing his head as Rush shaved a small patch of skin to insert the needle. “Good boy,” she whispered, watching his eyes close. “Go to Steve. Run to him. He’s waiting for you.”

  By the time she’d finished speaking, Murphy was gone.

  Rush gave her a little time before he spoke. “You can’t bury him, especially in this weather. The vet clinic in Cottonwood Springs can cremate the body. I can bring you back the ashes if you want.”

  Silent, lips pressed together, she nodded.

  Rush wrapped the dog’s body in a lightweight plastic tarp, carried it outside, and laid it in the rear of the Hummer. When he came back to the house, Tracy was sitting on the floor where he’d left her, next to the empty dog bed.

  “Come here, Tracy.” He reached down, caught her hands in his, and pulled her to her feet. She swayed slightly, then leaned forward and let him pull her into his embrace.

  “Hold me,” she whispered.

  Rush knew better than to speak. His arms tightened around her trembling body. He cradled her against him, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go again.

  Chapter 12

  He held her close as she cried softly against his chest. Her body quivered with muffled sobs. Her tears soaked into his flannel shirt. Some might say it was a lot of grief for an old dog that had lived out its time. But Rush knew better. Tracy wasn’t just weeping for a cherished pet. She was crying for a memory, her last living connection to the man she’d lost.

  He could only hope that, once she let herself heal, she’d be able to move on—to him.

  He did his best to calm her, massaging her back through the flannel pajamas, brushing his lips along her hairline, and whispering little phrases of comfort.

  “It’s all right, Tracy . . . Cry it out . . . you’ll be fine.”

  He could feel her struggling to bring herself under control. Little by little, the crying ebbed until she rested quietly against him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I will be.”

  “You’re shivering. Are you cold?”

  “A little.” Her teeth chattered as she spoke. With the heat turned down for the night, and no fire in the fireplace, the room was chilly.

  He glanced at the mantel clock. “It’s barely one o’clock in the morning. You belong in bed. Come on. I’ll tuck you in.”

  “I don’t know if I can sleep.”

  “At least you’ll be warm. I’ll stay if you want me to.”

  He guided her down the dark hall to her bedroom. She’d left a bedside lamp on, the light turned low. Rush smoothed the rumpled covers, turned them down, and tugged them over her as she slipped into bed.

  “Don’t go,” she said, looking up at him.

  Rush knew better than to take her words as an invitation to make love. Sh
e was grieving, and she didn’t want to be alone. That was all.

  He sat on the far edge of the bed, pulled off his boots, and stretched out on top of the covers. When she didn’t speak, he turned onto his side and wrapped an arm around her. “All right?” he asked.

  He felt her nod. “All right,” she whispered. “Thanks for understanding.”

  He laid his cheek against her hair, feeling its silken warmth as she relaxed against him. Love swelled his heart. He would do anything for this woman, to protect her, provide for her, and make her happy. She might take time to come around, but he would wait—for as long as it took, he would wait. Tracy was worth it.

  After a while she slept, warm and secure in his arms. Rush lay awake, holding her, listening to her breathe and filling his senses with the sweet, sleepy aroma of her skin. Turning his head, he could see the luminous dial of the clock on her nightstand. He wouldn’t allow himself to stay past dawn, to risk creating a wave of gossip.

  When the digits flipped over to 4:30, he stirred, eased himself away from her, and sat up. She opened her eyes, gazing up at him, still muzzy from sleep.

  “I need to go,” he said.

  “I know,” she whispered. “Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.”

  “I’ll see to Murphy and call you later.” He bent and kissed her, feeling the warm response of her lips. Resisting the urge to stay and taste them again, he picked up his boots and carried them into the living room. After pulling them on, he found his medical bag, where he’d left it next to the fireplace. He glanced around for his coat before he remembered that, in his haste to get here, he’d left it at the ranch.

  Locking the front door behind him, he stepped out into a world of white. Fresh snow, six inches deep and still falling, blanketed the roads and walks, the lawns, the houses and trees, and the cars.

  Snow. This time it was deep enough and cold enough to last for weeks. Branding Iron was going to have a white Christmas.

  * * *

  Tracy rose at 6:00 and turned up the heat in the house. She was tempted to crawl under the covers again until the place warmed up, but she was too restless to sleep. Wrapping her warm robe over her pajamas, she pattered barefoot into the kitchen to make coffee.