Page 30 of The Christmas Box

In a way, it reminded me of snow days as a kid—the kind when my friend, Dakota, who lived up the road, would walk down and play board games with me, or we’d put together a big puzzle on the kitchen table. I can still smell the warm chocolate chip cookies my mom would bake for us. There was something nice about having nothing to do but watch the snow fall from a spot where I felt safe and comfortable.

And maybe that’s what I needed after yesterday’s nursing home visit. Something that felt safe and comfortable and easy. Well, maybe it’s noteasywhen she’s beating me over the head with Christmas cheer or pressuring me to adopt a dog or sneaking trees in to my apartment. Soeasyis the wrong word. Maybe what I feel when I’m with her isn’t that simple to define. All I know is that for some reason, no matter what ridiculousness the woman throws at me, I keep going back for more.

“Well, hello there.”

I look up from my burger to see that Helen has wandered down from the bakery.

“Hi, Helen. Care to join?” I motion to the cushioned seat across from me.

“Thanks, but I’m grabbing mine to go. It’s been a fun little gathering, but I’m ready to get home to my cats and my Christmas tree.” And with that, she makes her way to the counter to give Nick her order.

While she’s waiting, though, she comes back to my table, reaching down to touch my shoulder. “It’s none of my business, Travis, but…I noticed you weren’t at the manor today.”

Something inside me stiffens as the last bite of my burger turns tasteless in my mouth. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt anything but affection and appreciation for the woman standing beside me. “Took the day off,” I tell her shortly, wiping a napkin across my face.

“Listen, I know what happened yesterday shook you, and I understand. It’s hard, what he’s going through. But he was back to his normal self today, just so you know.”

I nod, thinking things through. I guess I’ve gotten to know Helen well enough, even if just by accident, that I don’t mind being honest with her. “Yeah, it shook me. But it also...brought back some bad memories.”

Her brow knits. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Did he notice?” I ask. “That I didn’t come?”

She nods. “He asked if I’d heard from you.”

I didn’t expect to feel bad about anything while I was here, but suddenly I do. Even though I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve been trying pretty hard, in fact, to do everything right. Just in case I was wrongbefore—staying away all those years. “Sorry, Helen,” I murmur.

“Nothing to apologize for, Travis,” she tells me. “You’re doing the best you can with this, I know. It’s a lot.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

This time her nod comes with a gentle smile. “He’ll be glad to see you.”

“In the meantime,” I say, pushing to my feet, “I gotta get home. I took in a stray dog and she’s doing better with her puppy pad training, but it’s anybody’s guess what I’m gonna find when I walk in the door.”

“Aw, kind of you to take her in, poor thing. I’ll have to come meet her.” Then she gives her head a thoughtful tilt. “Sometimes your dad talks about a dogheused to have.”

“Blinker,” I say.

“That’s right,” she replies with a sad sort of smile. “A lot of the residents miss their pets, even when it’s been a long time.”

Damn. I came back to Winterberry feeling—if I’m honest with myself—kind of dead inside. Or maybe that’s how Imademyself feel in order to deal with being home. But lately I can’t seem to outrun my emotions, and right now the idea of all these people missing their dogs and cats rips into me deep.

“Burger’s ready, Helen,” Nick calls and she starts toward the counter—yet now I’m the one touchinghershoulder.

“Listen,” I say, “I don’t know if this is a crazy idea, but…” In fact, it’s only half-formed in my head.

“But what?”

Then I tell her what’s on my mind.

December 11

Travis

As I traverse slushy roads, some still snow-covered, to Bluegrass Manor, I glance over to the dog in my passenger seat. Part of me can’t believe I asked Helen if I could bring Marley to the home. I was even more shocked when she excitedly said, “Oh yes! Please do. We encourage visits by pets—on leashes, of course—but we haven’t had any in a long time. It makes the residents so happy—they’ll love it!”

Now I just hope Marley doesn’t pee on the floor. “Pleasedon’t pee on the floor,” I tell her now.

---