Читать книгу Journey Back to Christmas - Leigh Duncan - Страница 6
ОглавлениеChapter Two
Late the next day, Hanna exited the ward and headed down a narrow corridor with a metal tray, careful not to jostle the medicines and supplies arranged on it in precise lines. She stepped aside to let an approaching nurse and patient pass through the door ahead of her. While she waited, she took a second to admire the cheery red streamers that swooped in loops along the white walls. Below them, greenery and garlands of red flowers decorated the dark wainscoting. A sharp, clean scent of evergreen drifted in the air, bringing the smells of Christmas to the patients unlucky enough to have to spend their holiday at the Franklin County Hospital.
At the nurses’ station, she settled her tray onto the counter and brushed a hand over the starched white pinafore she wore over a blue shirtwaist. The simple gesture pleased her, and she smiled. She loved working at the hospital, bringing hope and care to those who were in need. She adjusted the nursing pin she wore with pride at her shoulder and glanced across the room in time to see her friend, Julia, turn away from the sink.
Catching her eye, Julia raised one hand to her chest. A small diamond sparkled on the ring finger of her left hand. She gave Hanna a shy smile.
“Julia!” Hanna gasped. “He proposed?” She looked about quickly. The patients needed their rest. It wouldn’t do to upset them, not even with good news.
“Just now.” A soft giggle escaped Julia’s mouth despite the hand she held over it.
Barely able to contain herself, Hanna clasped her friend’s fingers. “I’m the first to know?”
“You had to be,” Julia exclaimed, her voice a throaty whisper. “You’re the one who introduced us. If it weren’t for you…”
Hanna’s smile widened until her face threatened to split in two. She’d known, just known, Julia and Frank were meant for each other the day he’d been transferred here. She stepped back, enjoying a ripple of happiness for the couple. Had they set a date? “Oh, Julia! When?”
“Come.” Julia hooked their arms together. “Frank’s just bustin’ to tell you himself.”
Leaving her tray where it was for the moment, Hanna let herself be pulled along. The rubber soles of their shoes squeaking on the polished linoleum squares, the two nurses hurried across the men’s ward. They stopped at a bed where an injured vet lay, his head propped up on pillows, his leg in traction. Though he had to be in pain, the soldier had never complained—not even once—during his long stay in the hospital.
While Julia sank onto the bedside chair, Hanna gave Frank’s hand a squeeze. “This all happened so fast,” she gushed. “I’m so happy for you.”
“I asked myself, ‘why wait?’” Frank explained. A broad smile softened his thin features. “As soon as I can carry her over the threshold, we’re gonna find the closest justice of the peace.” He gave his brand-new fiancée a tender smile. “Right, honey?”
Julia slipped Frank’s hand in hers. Her face radiant, she fanned herself. “Engaged on the night of the Christmas Comet. Isn’t that the most romantic thing?”
Agreeing that it was, Hanna pulled her camera from one of the deep pockets in her pinafore. She couldn’t let the precious moment pass by without recording it for posterity. “Look this way, you two lovebirds,” she cooed. She snapped the photo of the couple who were perfect for each other. Smiling, she tucked the camera back into her pocket.
“And I’m going to find her a white dress just like the one I saw in a window when I was over there in Italy.” Frank squeezed Julia’s hand. “Prettiest dress I ever saw,” he finished brightly.
“Frank has been telling me all about Italy.” Julia bit her lower lip. For an instant, her face fell. They’d all seen pictures of the destruction caused by the war. She rallied quickly. “Well, the good things, anyway. Hundred-year-old churches and the cobblestone streets…”
“Pretty as a picture, some of those towns.” For a second, Frank’s eyes glazed over, and he fell silent. Memories moved their icy fingers across his face. He shivered and tugged his Army jacket closer around his shoulders as if saying to himself, Enough of that. “But nothin’ beats bein’ back home.”
Julia’s gaze dropped to where Frank’s fingers were entwined in hers as if she wanted to let him know she understood how much the moment had cost her soon-to-be husband. Though she never voiced the I’m so glad you made it home, her thoughts echoed loudly through the room.
Hanna felt her own grief rear its ugly head. She retreated a step. “I, I should be getting to work.” Suddenly missing Chet, she plastered a brave smile over her own feelings. “Congratulations, you two. I’m so happy for you.” Beating a hasty retreat lest her sorrow ruin Frank and Julia’s happy occasion, she headed for the exit.
“Hanna,” Julia called before she made it past the third bed.
With a sigh, she turned in time to catch the worried look on her friend’s face.
“Oh, Hanna, I wasn’t thinking. Here we are, so giddy, and I wasn’t even—”
“No, don’t apologize, Julia,” Hanna insisted. “We’ve got to keep our eyes on tomorrow, right? That’s where happiness is. Not the past.” Someday, somehow, she’d find happiness in her future, too. Maybe it wouldn’t be the same as she’d had with Chet, but one day, she’d find a purpose in her life.
Julia inhaled a deep breath. “You’re such a brave thing,” she gushed while something like awe shone in her eyes.
Hanna held up a hand. “I’m not so brave. Just…” She paused. “Just happy to see you so happy.” For emphasis, she added, “Really.”
Whatever she’d said must have done the trick, because Julia relaxed. The smile she’d worn ever since Hanna had introduced her to Frank warmed her eyes. “We are happy,” she said on a sigh. “Thanks to you.”
“Well…” Hanna slipped her hands into her pockets. “And now, I really do need to get back to work before the head nurse notices I’m missing.” Without giving Julia a chance to protest, this time she headed across the ward at a fast clip. Work, she needed to work. Needed to keep her hands busy and her mind focused on taking care of the patients who were too sick or too hurt to spend Christmas at home.
And she knew just which patients needed her most.
Time dragged during the long afternoons in the children’s ward. In the mornings, the hospital bustled with activity. Doctors made their rounds. Orderlies and nurses rushed about delivering medicine and changing linens. There were sponge baths to get and clean pajamas to don. Later, visiting hours brightened the early part of the afternoon. But toward the end of the day, things quieted around the hospital. Footfalls echoed in silent halls. And the children grew restless.
The image of a sad-eyed waif who’d fallen from his bunk bed at the Children’s Home surfaced, and Hanna’s heart went out to the little boy who had lost both his parents far too early. She stopped by the nurses’ station long enough to empty her tray, careful to store the medicines and supplies in their assigned places. Retrieving two books from a cubby, she headed for the other side of the hospital.
Toby’s face brightened when she approached the bed where the little boy sat, his arm awkward in its heavy cast. She ran one finger across the metal rail at the foot of his bed, checking for dust. Her finger came away clean, and she smiled, satisfied that the area was as neat and tidy as the rest of the hospital.
“I have a few minutes before the end of my shift,” she told him. “I picked out some good stories to read.” She held out the books she’d chosen from the library cart earlier that day. When the move failed to generate much enthusiasm, she paused to think. What would interest an eight-year-old boy? Sure she’d hit on a good idea, she reached into her pocket. “Would you like to look at my camera while I read to you?”
Toby’s eyes lit up. “You have a camera? I’d like to see it very much, Nurse Hanna.”
She handed the slim box to the polite child without hesitation. Settling in the chair beside his bed, she read while Toby pretended to snap pictures. “On the left side of her, she presently spied a little wooden hut painted blue and something rose-colored was tied to the handle of its shut blue door. ‘A bunch of roses,’ said the fairy godmother. And she thought of going over and smelling their sweetness. But when she came close to it…” Hanna looked up from the book. The most exciting part of the story was just ahead, and Toby wasn’t paying the least bit of attention. Instead, he stared out the window with a faraway look on his face while he flipped the buttons on the camera back and forth. Hanna stopped reading. When Toby didn’t seem to notice, she cleared her throat. “You don’t want me to read to you anymore?”
Her heart melted when a single tear rolled down Toby’s cheek. The boy shook his head.
Anxious to find out what troubled the child, she probed a little deeper. “Are you sad, Toby?”
His tiny fingers on the camera stilled. “I don’t want to go back to the orphanage.” He spoke softly, as if he didn’t want anyone else to overhear his biggest secret.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hanna sighed. She had to find a way to help the child who’d lost his mother in childbirth, his father to the war. “You know what I do when I’m sad?”
Toby’s blue eyes scoured her face with an intense gaze. The child was far too intelligent to accept the platitudes and false bravery that fooled so many others. She took a breath. Only one thing had brought her a measure of comfort over the last six months. For Toby’s sake, she’d share it.
“I try to help somebody else who’s sad.”
The boy’s thin lips turned down at the corners. “But I’m just a kid. I don’t have anybody to help.”
“You’re helping me,” Hanna confessed. She watched as the small child turned the idea over in his head.
“Are you sad, Nurse Hanna?” he asked at last.
Hanna stared at a spot on the wall over the little boy’s head. “Sad” was an understatement. Sometimes, she thought she’d drown in her grief. But she’d stopped by to cheer Toby up, not to pull him down into despair with her. Deliberately, she shook aside her own feelings. “Everyone gets sad sometimes, Toby,” she pointed out. She summoned a bright smile. “Spending time with you makes me very happy.” When a tiny bit of interest flickered in Toby’s eyes, she leaned forward. Determined to chase away his blues, she let a teasing note creep into her voice. “I bet you don’t know what’s coming tonight.”
A wide, snaggle-toothed grin spread across Toby’s face. “Do, too,” he insisted. Ever so carefully, he twisted a button on the camera.
“Oh, yeah? What?” Hanna challenged, although she wouldn’t have been at all surprised to learn that Toby knew all about the event that had the whole town buzzing.
“The comet!”
“You are so right!” Hanna patted the child’s arm and did her best to hide her concern at his thin frame. Slighter than most boys his age, Toby had lost weight during his stay in the children’s ward. Most kids did. Although the food at the county hospital was good, it didn’t compare to home cooking.
“Is the comet a miracle?” Toby’s little face scrunched as if he was working hard at solving one of the world’s biggest mysteries.
“Hmmm.” She nodded while she made a mental note to contact the orphanage. Someone there needed to make sure the boy spent the holidays with a family in town. “That’s a good question.”
“What’s the difference between a miracle and”—he tapped his chin thoughtfully—“and something that just happens? Like, um, rain. Is rain a miracle?”
Hanna studied the child. She’d known all along that Toby was a smart boy, but his questions dug much deeper than what anyone would’ve expected from a youngster. Beneath the folds of her skirt, she crossed her fingers and wished for a Christmas miracle for Toby. He shouldn’t be in the orphanage. He should be in a home with parents who could give him all the attention and encouragement he deserved. “Maybe everything is a miracle.” She bent forward to tickle Toby’s arm and delighted in his giggle. “Rain. Comets. You. Me. It just depends on how you look at it.”
“People are calling this the Christmas Comet, but that’s not its real name.” Toby straightened against his pillows.
“Is that right?” Interested in this new piece of information, Hanna tilted her head.
“It’s the De Vico Comet. That’s the person who discovered it. I read it in a book,” he said, rather proud of himself. “And you know what?”
“What?”
“It won’t come again until seventy-one years. And you know what else?” The child’s eyes widened.
“What?” she asked, enjoying the conversation.
“I know a secret.” He crooked a finger on his free hand to beckon her forward.
She leaned in, eager to share the little boy’s confidence.
“I think comets are miracles,” he said with very adult-like conviction.
“You just might be right about that.” She favored the boy with a wide smile, pleased to see that he’d pulled out of his sadness. For a while, they talked of other things—what Toby wanted to be when he grew up, the places he wanted to see, the things he wanted to do. Hanna suppressed her doubts when the child talked of college and the discoveries he’d make. Unless he was adopted, the orphanage would farm him out as day labor in a few years or, if he was very lucky, apprentice him to learn a trade. Even though he was a smart boy, the odds were against him graduating from high school, much less getting a higher education.
“Yoo-hoo!”
While she considered possible ways to change Toby’s future for the better, Dottie skipped into the room, all bright smiles and cheery good will.
“Our shift is over, and we’ve been waiting for you! Hurry. We don’t want to be late for the Christmas party.” Dottie danced to the side of Toby’s bed and bent down. The necklace of tinsel she wore around her neck sparkled as she moved. “Do you mind if I borrow her for a while, Toby?”
Toby flipped another lever on the camera. He pondered the matter for a moment before he gave a solemn nod. “Okay.”
Hanna aimed her best smile at the little boy. “I have to go now, Toby. I’ll see you tomorrow, but don’t forget the comet tonight. I’ll be watching for it, too.” A warm spot in her chest expanded at the child’s broad grin.
“Right!” He snapped his fingers and waved good-bye.
Her heart lighter than it had been when she’d walked into the ward, Hanna hurried to catch up with her friend. The truth of the conversation she’d shared with Toby struck home, and she hugged herself. Helping others really did help push the sadness away, at least for a little while.
In the stairwell, the sounds of the party underway on the floor above drifted down around them. Hanna hesitated, her hand on the rail. Struck by a guilty pang, she cast a lingering look at the door she’d just walked through. How could she leave Toby all alone while she went off and had a good time?
“C’mon! They’ve started without us.” Dottie glanced over her shoulder. Her eagerness to join the rest of the group showed in the excited flush of color that had sprung to her cheeks. She tapped her fingers in impatience.
Hanna gave the doorway a final look. Promising to check in on Toby first thing in the morning, she shoved aside her misgivings and sped up the stairs. Dottie hurried ahead, the rubber soles of her shoes striking the risers in time with the Christmas carol someone played on the old upright piano in the staff break room.
In perfect pitch, a man’s strong tenor rang through the stairwell. The volume swelled as others joined in singing a familiar Christmas carol.
“Did you hear that? Dr. Axlerod has such a beautiful voice.” Dottie pressed one hand to her heart. “He’s like an opera singer. Just listen!”
But not everyone had been blessed with the doctor’s gift for music. Hanna winced as someone struck a false note. The owner of a sweet soprano stumbled over the words.
Dottie giggled and clamped a hand over her mouth. “That’s Mary Grace,” she explained. “She can never remember the lyrics. She’s a riot.” Practically taking the steps two at a time, she urged, “C’mon!”
At the landing, Dottie darted toward the nurses and doctors who’d gathered around the Christmas tree. Icicles hanging from its branches shimmied as the air currents stirred. Tiny balls of color, reflections from the tree lights, danced against the walls, giving the room a cheerful, rosy glow. Glasses clinked as the festive group toasted one another with apple cider.
Hanna took one look at the party and bit her lower lip. She could do this. She repeated the same message she’d been giving herself throughout the holiday season. She could, but she… she needed a minute. Turning aside, she spied the telephone alcove. Her footsteps slowed. She plucked Dottie’s sleeve. “I just want to make a phone call first.”
“Now?” On the woman’s face, the desire to join the party played tug-of-war with a firm resolve to stick by her friend.
“It’s for Toby,” she explained, focusing her thoughts on the little boy who sat in a hospital bed without anyone to visit him. She might not be able to change his future, but she could at least see that he had one nice holiday to remember. “I just want to make sure someone from the orphanage takes him home for Christmas.”
Compassion darkened Dottie’s eyes. “Oh. Poor little boy. Go ahead. Make the call. Then, join us.”
“I’ll be there in a minute. Promise,” Hanna said, relieved. Though she wasn’t sure she felt up to joining the party, she didn’t want to spoil the fun for her friend.
But Dottie saw through her tricks. “Don’t forget. We’re all going to the gazebo,” she warned just as, in the room behind her, Dr. Axlerod launched into a rousing version of “Deck the Halls.” Her eyes widened. “That’s my favorite.” She grinned and dashed into the room.
Slowly, Hanna walked to the phone perched on a stand in the corner of the hallway. Lifting the receiver to her ear, she spun the heavy rotary dial. When the operator asked who she’d like to call, she responded that she wanted to be put through to the Central Falls Orphanage.
“I’m sorry. That line’s out of order,” the woman from the phone company explained.
“Thanks,” Hanna answered, though her shoulders rounded. “I’ll try again later.” Hoping the repairs wouldn’t take long, she headed back the way she’d come. But at the door to the lounge, she stopped.
Her friends all wanted her to join in the fun. To at least act as if everything was back to normal. She knew they meant well, and she appreciated it. They were only encouraging her to move forward with her life because they loved her and wanted what was best for her. In her heart, she thanked them for their concern. But this year—when so many were celebrating the safe return of loved ones—the holiday cheer and the decorations and the smells of gingerbread fresh from the oven had snuck up on her. And to be quite honest with herself, she wasn’t ready. Not for the wassail bowls. Not for the presents with their pretty bows. Not for Christmas carols and songs about hope and peace on earth, goodwill toward men.
Most certainly, her sadness would ruin the party for everyone else, she decided. With a last look at the happy group, she slipped down the stairs and out of sight before anyone could notice.
Alone in the nurses’ locker room a short while later, she exchanged her uniform for the green dress that had been one of Chet’s favorites and traded her sturdy white nursing shoes for the pretty red pumps she’d worn because of the holiday. Quickly, she buckled the thin ankle straps. Though the party upstairs might go on for an hour or so, she couldn’t take the chance that Dottie or one of the other nurses would catch her while she was still in the hospital.
As she walked out of the main entrance a few minutes later, she glanced up at Toby’s room. Like he did every night, the young tyke stood at the window, waiting to wave goodbye to her.
Hanna grinned up at him, and then made a silly face. With a jaunty wave, she headed down the long sidewalk to the parking lot. She’d only gone a yard or two when hurried footsteps sounded behind her. She stepped aside as an orderly hustled past, carrying several cardboard boxes. He’d almost reached the end of the walkway when the young man skidded on an icy spot.
“Whoa!” he cried, juggling the boxes while he recovered his balance.
“Need some help, Charlie?” Hanna hurried to his side, arriving just in time to catch one of the boxes before it hit the ground. Inside the sturdy cardboard, items shifted. Glass tinkled. “I hope nothing broke.”
“I think everything’s okay.” Charlie jostled the box slightly. “It’s more Christmas decorations for the gazebo. I’m headed there now so we can get the last of them up before the lighting ceremony tonight. And I’m late.”
“Well, be careful. It wouldn’t do at all for you to take a spill and break a leg. Or the ornaments—they mean so much to the town.” As a child, she’d looked on with wonder during the lighting ceremony. When they were in their teens, she and Chet had helped hang the decorations. As adults, they’d strolled around the gazebo and admired the lights every Christmas Eve.
“Oh, darn it.” Charlie’s feet skidded the tiniest bit. “I was in such a rush that I forgot to hang up the spare key to the storage locker before I left. You think you could be a doll and take it back inside for me?”
“I wish I could.” She wanted to help out. Honest, she did. But turning back now meant she’d probably run into Dottie. Her friend was sure to give her the third degree about skipping the party. She didn’t think she could face that tonight. Besides, if anyone absolutely had to get into the locker before morning, they could borrow a key from the head nurse. She had one for every cupboard and closet in the building.
The tips of the orderly’s ears pinked as the young man eyed her street clothes. “I’d take it back myself, but I’m leaving first thing in the morning to spend the holiday with my folks.” His brow puckered. “Say. No one’s gonna need the key tonight. What say you take it home with you and hang it back up in the morning? It would sure help a fella out.”
Hanna tilted her head. “I guess I could. As long as no one will need it in the meantime.”
“Nah.” Charlie crunched a bit of snow under his shoe. “That closet’s as empty as my wallet. I got the last of the decorations right here.” He tapped his fingers against the side of a box. “If you wouldn’t mind, the key’s right here in my jacket pocket.” Turning, he leaned down to bring his shoulder within arm’s reach.
Feeling just a touch self-conscious, she fished out the key. Hastily, she tucked it into her coat pocket, where she was sure to remember it when she arrived at work the next day.
“Thanks, Nurse Hanna. You’re a peach.” Charlie righted the boxes in his arms. He hurried off in the direction of the town center.
“Careful!” Hanna called after him. She gave the key in her pocket a final pat before, heeding her own warning, she picked her slow and cautious way toward the parking lot.
By the time she reached her car, fat snowflakes covered the sidewalk in a fresh blanket of white. She sniffled, just a little, as she brushed the icy mix from the windshield of the 1943 Hudson. Chet had driven the car straight from the showroom to their house the week before he’d shipped out. He’d always taken such good care of her. She’d so looked forward to doing the same for him and spending the rest of her life making a home for him. With Chet’s degree in Civil Engineering, he’d go to work building houses or schools after the war ended. There’d be babies, of course. Once they came along, she’d quit her job at the hospital. Instead, she’d spend her days keeping house, raising their children, and helping out in the community. They’d have a good life, one filled with baseball games and dance recitals, PTA meetings and the Women’s League, dinners with important clients and family vacations. Or, at least, that was the future they’d dreamed of. Without Chet, none of those plans meant anything anymore, so, with a sigh, she slipped behind the wheel.
A few minutes later, she slowed as she passed the gazebo where, despite the impending storm, a crowd gathered. Beneath the pitched roof, Charlie pulled several ornaments from one of the boxes. The colorful balls no sooner dangled from his fingers than two girls about his age rushed to his side. Hanna smiled to herself. No wonder the young man had been in such a hurry to get to the gazebo.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she pressed lightly on the gas. She hoped Dottie and their friends would understand if she didn’t show up at the lighting ceremony tonight. For now, she just wanted to go home and be alone with her memories.
A short time later, she steered the car onto the driveway that ran beside a tidy little house on a tree-lined street. Already, snow blanketed the sidewalks and walkways. It piled up along the curbs. She stomped the wintery mix from her shoes on the mat by the front door. Stepping into the house, she let down her guard as she hung her coat and hat on the coat tree by the door. Within these walls, she didn’t need to keep a stiff upper lip or pretend that she was over the pain of losing Chet. Here, in the home they’d barely begun to furnish before he’d left, she could be herself.
She fixed herself a cup of tea and settled into the chair by the window. On the other side of the panes, the snow fell thicker. It muffled the sounds of the occasional car on her street. A deep and mournful howl came from somewhere nearby. She brushed the dampness from her cheeks and peered through the glass, but the only movement came from the steam that rose in thin tendrils from her cup on the end table. She took a sip. Over the rim of the china, she eyed the decorations she’d put out in hopes of creating a festive air in the house that was too big, too quiet, for one person. She’d bought the smallest Christmas tree they’d had on the lot this year. It stood, slightly canted to one side, in the corner. Money had been tight, and she hadn’t had any to spare for lights, but she’d strung a garland of cranberries and popcorn across the tree’s branches. She’d even spent an entire evening cutting strips of newspaper and pasting the links together in a long chain that she’d draped from the green limbs. Though she wished there were more gifts under the tree, she’d lovingly wrapped each one and tied them off with bright red bows. She smiled, thinking how Toby’s face would light up when he opened his on Christmas morning. Would he like the books she’d chosen for him?
After fortifying herself with another sip of tea, she pulled a leather-bound album onto her lap. Paging through it, she lingered over favorite pictures where Chet’s face smiled up at her. She couldn’t help but smile in return as she recalled the happy moments of their time together. She traced one finger over a picture of Chet as a boy. He leaned against a fencepost, grinning, his hands in the pockets of his overalls as if he hadn’t just tugged on her pigtails and ran away before she could catch him. She turned the page and studied a more recent photo. She’d snapped this one at the train station when Chet had gotten a three-day pass just before he’d shipped out. He’d looked so handsome stepping from the train, all dark good looks and swagger, in his uniform. His confidence that they’d win the war had been infectious, and she’d been caught up in his certainty that he’d come home to her. But it hadn’t turned out that way, and, long before she wanted to, she reached the last page in the album.
Outside, a dog barked. This time, a frantic pawing at her front door accompanied a fearful whining.
“Oh, my goodness.” She closed the photo album and set it aside.
The moment she opened the door, a golden retriever burst into the room. Little more than a puppy, the dog gave a happy sound and shook, spattering the bare hardwood with clumps of ice and snow.
“Oh! Poor baby. Are you cold?” A laugh bubbled in her throat, and she stopped herself. Of course the dog was cold. With the snow coming down by the bucketful, he was lucky he hadn’t frozen to death. Who knew how long he’d been stuck out there? She rushed down the hall, grabbed a towel and a blanket from the closet, and raced back to his side.
“This’ll get you warmed up.” She treated the dog to a vigorous rubdown. As she worked, golden strands of thick fur sifted through her fingers. When she heard a metallic clink from the collar around his neck, she breathed a sigh of relief. The pretty puppy wasn’t a stray. He had owners. People who must miss him terribly. She kneeled beside the pup and felt for his tags. “Ruffin,” she read out loud. “Is that your name?”
In answer to her question, Ruffin licked her hand.
“Good dog,” she said, giving him a big hug. “Are you lost, Ruffin? You’re a ways from home, aren’t you?” According to his tags, the dog belonged to a family who lived off Main Street, not far from the gazebo. She glanced out the window. Snow fell steadily. If this kept up, the streets would soon be impassible. Grabbing a pencil and a slip of paper, she copied the information from Ruffin’s tag. “Okay, boy. I’m going to call your folks and let them know where you are.”
As if he understood, the dog wagged his tail. With a heavy sigh, he flopped down on the floor near the heater.
Hanna shook her head. The young pup had to be exhausted after his ordeal. Leaving him to his nap, she headed for the phone. Her stomach sank before she even held the receiver to her ear. Other people were using the party line she shared with the rest of the neighbors on her street.
“… and her tone of voice,” one woman said. “Let me tell you. Miss Know-It-All!”
Filled with self-importance, a different voice replied, “It’s just a phase. Tina did the same thing.”
“Excuse me,” Hanna interrupted as politely as she could. “I’d like to make a call.”
“—week? We were listening to the radio—”
Frustrated when the conversation between the women continued as if she hadn’t spoken, Hanna raised her voice. “Excuse me. I’d like to make a call.”
“Uh!” The first speaker made an irritated sound. “Is this an emergency?” she demanded.
“Well, no…” Not technically, it wasn’t. If she couldn’t make a call, no one would die or anything. She studied the snow that fell beyond her window. “But I—”
“If it’s not an emergency, you’ll have to wait your turn,” Miss Snippy said.
As if trying to make up for her friend’s rudeness, the other voice broke in. “We’ll be off in a jiff.”
“Right.” Figuring the odds of that happening were about the same as the sun bursting through the storm clouds in the night sky, Hanna hesitated. She’d pay a big fine or even get arrested if she claimed she needed the phone for an emergency when she didn’t. Even if it had been, she couldn’t force the women to get off the line. With no choice in the matter, she lowered the receiver into its cradle. She glanced at the dog. “Well, Ruffin. What do we do now?”
In answer, he scurried across the floor to the door. Whining, he sniffed at it.
“Oh, I know.” She patted the dog’s thick fur. “I tried.”
Not at all satisfied, Ruffin lifted one paw and placed it in her lap. The dog’s pleading whimpers cut straight through her heart. Was someone missing their pet as much as he missed his owners? The collar of her dress felt tight around her neck. She tugged at the wool and cleared her throat. She’d do her part to get the pup home to the people who loved him. It was the least she could do.
Taking her coat from its hook by the door, she leaned down. “Want to go home, Ruffin? Do you, boy?”
With an eager look, the retriever issued a happy bark.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She grabbed her purse and keys.
A treacherous twenty minutes later, she eased onto a driveway beside a two-story home trimmed with garlands of green and strands of multi-colored lights. When she tapped the horn to announce her arrival, the front door sprang open almost immediately. Warm, inviting light spilled from the house as a woman stepped out onto the spacious porch. Seeing her, Ruffin leaped toward the windshield. His paws on the dashboard, he barked excitedly.
“Recognize someone, do you, boy?” Hanna asked. She held the car door wide.
“Ruffin?” The woman on the porch took several steps forward. Beneath fashionable dark curls, shock and disbelief played across her finely chiseled features. “Oh, my gosh. Hal, it’s Ruffin,” she called over her shoulder.
As soon as Hanna opened the car door, Ruffin bounded from the front seat. Taking the steps three at a time, as only a young dog could, he leaped to the spot where a woman not much older than Hanna herself kneeled. Happy tears streamed down the young owner’s face as she wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck.
“I guess it goes without saying that he’s yours,” Hanna said, smiling at the antics of the excited puppy. “I’m Hanna Morse. Ruffin knocked on my door tonight, pretty as you please, and asked me if I wouldn’t mind bringing him home to you.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” The owner buried her face in the dog’s fur for a long moment. With a start, she jumped to her feet. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Sue Bunce. Please, please come in.” Sue opened the door behind her and stifled a giggle as Ruffin darted past. “Come here, Ruffin. Come here,” she ordered, but the boisterous dog kept on going.
“Only for a minute,” Hanna murmured. It’d be good to get warm before she started the long drive home. But she wouldn’t stay. Not with the snow falling in thick clumps and the roads getting sloppier by the minute.
Following Sue, she stepped into a parlor where a dozen or more Christmas cards lined a mantel edged with swags of greenery. The inviting scent of gingerbread mingled with the smoke that rose from the wood stove and bathed the house in the warm smells of the season. Sue didn’t stand on ceremony but immediately sank to her knees on the carpet. As if she didn’t trust her eyes, she buried her hands in the dog’s fur.
“This is my husband, Hal,” she announced, nodding to the snappily dressed man who trotted down the stairs. “Oh, Hal! Isn’t it wonderful? Hanna brought Ruffin home to us!” She hugged the dog to her. Cupping the pup’s face in her hands, she asked, “Where were you, you bad boy. Hmmm? Where have you been?”
Hal’s eyes crinkled and the corners of his mouth lifted. “She lives for that dog,” he said, though his own love for their pet was as plain as the smile on his face.
“Honestly, I never knew how much until just now,” Sue agreed. She laughed when the dog pushed closer. His tail wagged furiously, as if he wanted his owners to know he’d never run away again. “Right, boy?” Tears glistened in the dark eyes she aimed at Hanna. “Gosh. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t brought him home. You’re our hero.”
“Oh, no.” Hanna dismissed that idea out of hand. “Heroes change the world. I just did a simple thing.”
Sue scrambled to her feet. “Well, you saved our Christmas, I can tell you that. Can you imagine how broken-hearted we would all be if we had to spend Christmas without Ruffin?”
Hanna’s breath stalled in her chest. She knew all too well how difficult it was to spend Christmas missing someone you loved. She edged toward the door. “I should be going,” she managed.
“Are you sure?” Sue crossed to the window, where she pulled the heavy drape aside. “Hanna, it’s getting really bad out there. Why don’t you spend the night here?”
How sweet.
She gave the invitation a moment’s thought as she looked about the room. Short laces tied in a pretty bow, a pair of white baby shoes glowed among the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. The comfy, red leather chair by the wood stove probably belonged to Mr. Bunce, while the Queen Anne’s chair beyond it was most likely the spot Sue preferred. A basket of chew toys stood beside a cozy dog’s bed in one corner. Hanna swallowed hard. This, she said to herself, this was the kind of home she’d hoped to make for her and Chet.
“I couldn’t. Really.” Putting her best effort into maintaining her smile, she backed toward the door.
A baby’s thin wail floated down the stairs.
“Oh, that’s little Clara.” Sue’s face fell. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Ruffin was missing.”
“I’ll go up and tuck her in.” Before anyone could argue, Hal headed for the stairs. “I can give her the good news about her puppy.”
Sue took another quick peek out the window. “Won’t you please stay the night? The snow is really coming down.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t live far. Just over on Elm Street.” Hanna pulled on her gloves. With a young child, as well as an active dog to take care of, Sue needed an overnight guest as much as they all needed another snow storm.
“Are you sure there’s no way we can thank you?” Sue trailed her to the door.
“You already have.” Knowing that Ruffin would share the holiday with his family was thanks enough. “Merry Christmas.”
“You, too. Drive safe.” One hand clutching Ruffin by the collar, Sue waved goodbye.
“I will,” Hanna promised as she let herself out.
On the front porch, she sucked in a surprised gasp. During the short time she’d spent inside, the storm had transformed the landscape into a winter wonderland. Tall trees bent under the weight of the falling snow. A thick layer of white made it difficult to see where the driveway ended and the street began. Overhead, cloud cover obscured the stars.
“Oh!” With the storm raging, Toby wouldn’t get to see the De Vico Comet tonight after all. She hoped her favorite patient wouldn’t be too disappointed.
She hesitated for another second, wondering if she’d made a huge mistake by turning down Sue’s hospitality. But the thought of spending the night with the Bunces, of watching the family enjoy the life she’d dreamed of sharing with Chet, was too much, so, steeling herself against the cold, she headed for her car.
With several inches of snow on the ground, getting out of the driveway presented a challenge, but she overcame it. Creeping along well below her normal speed, she half expected conditions to improve once she reached the center of town. But a gust of gut-tightening wind buffeted the car as she turned onto Main Street. The wiper blades lost ground against the mix of snow and ice that fell harder and thicker with every passing moment. She urged the blades to swish back and forth faster. Her breath fogged the windows, reducing her view of the world beyond the glass to two small half circles. Thunder rolled above her. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened until her hands ached.
Even though it meant she didn’t have to worry about traffic, the fact that hers was the only car on the road made her heart race. Forcing herself to stay calm, she overruled the little voice in her head that goaded her to drive faster, faster. Instead, she eased her foot from the gas pedal until the big Hudson moved at a snail’s pace. Still, that wasn’t enough. Her breath froze in her chest as the tires skidded across an icy patch. The car shimmied. The steering wheel slid beneath her fingers. She grabbed for it and held on tight, but the big car only spun in a lazy circle. It landed with a metal-rending thump in a snow drift. The engine ticked.
Hanna shuddered out a breath. She flexed her fingers, wiggled her feet. Nothing hurt. She hadn’t been injured; she had that much to be thankful for.
She goosed the gas. A loud whine came from the rear of the car. The tires spun in useless circles on the ice.
With a groan, she shifted into reverse and, offering up a little prayer, pressed on the gas. The car didn’t budge.
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Sitting here wasn’t the answer. Long before morning, she’d run out of gas. Without gas, the heater that barely kept the cold at bay would quit altogether. If that happened, she’d freeze to death while the blizzard howled around her. Much as she’d rather stay put, she needed to get someplace warm and dry.
A deep pile of snow blocked her door. Unable to open it, she slid across the front seat, forced the passenger side door open, and climbed out into the drift. Ice spilled over the tops of her shoes and melted onto her hose. She shivered as the harsh wind whipped her hair. Clamping a hand on her hat, she struggled through the snow bank to an area where the wet powder lay only a foot or so deep. With everything covered in a thickening blanket of white, nothing looked familiar. Though she couldn’t identify any landmarks, she knew she had to be near the center of town. In the distance, a halo of light broke through the darkness.
That has to be the gazebo. If she could just make it that far, she’d be all right. Though the swirling snow made it hard to see, she trusted that there’d be people on the square, people who could help her. Not more than an hour earlier, she’d seen the gathering crowd. Surely, they’d still be there singing carols and drinking hot chocolate. She only had to make it that far to find help. To find warmth.
The blinding snow made even a short walk heavy, treacherous going. Her head down, she cautiously studied every step. Bit by bit, she forged a path. Ice crunched beneath her shoes. Her leather soles skidded. The punishing wind tugged and pried at every opening, every seam in her coat. Wet, cold droplets pelted her brow, clung to her hair, and sent chills down her back.
She pressed on, determined.
Her foot struck a wooden step, and her head jerked up. After what had seemed like an eternity of trudging through the snow, she’d finally reached the gazebo. She turned in a slow circle without seeing another soul. Doubt landed a solid punch to her stomach.
Had she come all this way for nothing?
She wasted no time in taking stock. What was the use? Her fingers had already grown so numb she’d had trouble looping her purse over her arm. The cold seared her lungs with every breath. Her feet had turned into blocks of ice. If she didn’t find shelter soon, she’d be frozen stiff by morning.
Through the clouds, an odd light lit the sky. She squinted in the dim glow and spotted a storage barn she’d never noticed before. It stood not more than fifty yards from her. Could she make it that far? She had to. Pulling her coat as tightly about her as she could, she set off, determined, if nothing else, to get out of the wind, out of the snow.
Ominous thunder rolled overhead. Lightning flashed in the distance. The sky grew brighter. A faint glow cast an eerie light on the snow. A shiver ran straight down her spine. By sheer force of will, she made her feet move faster.
It took every ounce of strength she had left, and then some, to reach the barn. Wrenching the door open, she stepped inside. She barely had time to shut herself in before, trembling with exhaustion, her legs gave out. She sank to her knees. Just as she did, a sudden burst of lightning clapped the building. The air pulsed with such force, it flung her across the tiny space. Blinding pain seared through her as her head struck something hard and unforgiving.
And everything went dark.
