Page 3 of Unexpected Gifts

Ramona was gone, but the tree remained. Feeling slightly dizzy, she gulped air, taking in the scent of decaying leaves and evergreen trees.

Rufus leaned against her, his strong, warm body giving her strength. She scratched behind his ears, murmuring her thanks to her furry friend.

The dog leaped ahead and then waited for her at the top of the steps to the wraparound porch. She followed, floorboards creaking underfoot as she crossed to the front door and knocked. For a moment, she detached completely from her body. She could almost see herself standing there, dressed in her new winter coat and knit cap over her long, honey-streaked hair. If her LA friends could see her now, they wouldn’t recognize her.

Rufus sat on his haunches, tail wagging, clearly less intimidated and nervous than Abby. She stroked his ears to gather courage.

The sound of feet on hardwood floors penetrated the still, quiet night before the door swung open. There stood Jack, with a white-haired woman in a green sweater and jeans behind him. She knew right away the woman was Mrs. Hayes. Although her hair had whitened, her brown eyes and round face remained the same. And Jack? He looked so much like Ramona that it took Abby’s breath away—brown hair, full pink cheeks, and soulful green eyes. Grief stabbed at her chest. How could this little boy be without his mother? It was wrong.

“Hi, I’m Abby.” She was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and felt tears sting the backs of her eyes. She could have a good cry later. Right now, she must remain strong for the children. She owed Ramona that much.

Jack’s face lit up at the sight of Rufus, but he didn’t try to pet him. Instead, Jack stayed close to Mrs. Hayes. Rufus, bless his soul, remained on his haunches, smiling and wagging his tail.

“Abby, welcome to Vermont.” Mrs. Hayes held out her hand. “I’m Grace Hayes. Do you remember me from your visits?”

Abby smiled despite the trembling in her legs. “Yes, of course. The maple syrup family with all the handsome brothers. Mrs. Hayes, how are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. Please, call me Grace. My boys are all grown now but still handsome despite the antics that turned my hair silver.”

Green eyes peered up at her from cherubic cheeks. “Is that your dog?” Jack asked.

“Yes, this is Rufus.” Should she hold out her hand or kneel and embrace the little guy? What did six-year-old boys want or need? She had no earthly idea. “You can pet him if you’d like. He’s very friendly.”

Jack reached out a small hand and patted Rufus’s head. “Hi, Rufus.”

Rufus licked Jack’s fingers. Abby watched closely, curious to see if the boy was afraid of dogs. Clearly, he wasn’t. He’d grown up in the country, after all. She suspected he was accustomed to domestic and wild animals.

“Come on in out of the cold. I hope the trip wasn’t too arduous?” Grace stood back, gesturing for her to come inside.

“Driving across country isn’t for the faint of heart.” Abby stepped into the house. A burst of warmth carried the scent of woodsmoke and something savory cooking in the kitchen.

“Sophie’s waiting for us in the kitchen,” Grace said. “The girl always has her nose in a book.”

“Thank God for books,” Abby said. “Or none of us would get through life.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Grace asked.

Rufus wandered off, sniffing every nook and cranny, with Jack not far behind. Grace took her coat while Abby stole a quick glance around. The entryway still had the wide-planked floor she remembered, softened by a braided rug, frayed at the edges. A sturdy wooden table held a stack of mail. Floral-patterned wallpaper had become a soft, muted backdrop to framed photos of the children—new additions to the wall since the last time she'd been here.

Grace led her into the living room. Not much had changed. Although Abby hadn’t thought much about the house or happy times she’d spent here with Ramona and her aunt Sally, the room felt familiar and strangely comforting. Furniture, a little tired and worn, included a plaid couch covered with a knitted yellow throw. Two easy chairs sat beside a wood fireplace, where logs crackled and glowed behind a steel grate. Firewood had been stacked in a rack on the hearth. Family photos, a handmadecandle, and an old clock that still ticked softly decorated the mantel.

The walls were painted a faint green. They’d been a butter yellow the last time she’d been here. Someone had neatly tucked various toys into a corner basket, and a built-in bookshelf held well-read paperbacks and a few family board games.

A family lived here.

God help her.

Jack ran toward the kitchen, yelling out to his sister, “She has a dog.”

“Does it look the same as you remember?” Grace asked.

“Yes, pretty much.” Abby could feel her scrutiny as the older woman observed the long-lost cousin who was to take the job of a woman irreplaceable to the children. Yet Abby felt no judgment, only a generous curiosity emanating from the woman.

“How are they? The children,” Abby asked, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice. Rufus returned, sitting dutifully by her side.

Grace glanced toward the picture on the mantel of Ramona and the children standing in front of a vintage red truck, probably taken a few years back. “They’re suffering. I’m not sure how much Jack understands, but our Sophie, she’s taken it hard. As one would expect of a girl who worshipped her mother.”

Abby’s stomach convulsed with empathy. “I remember that feeling when my mother died, and I was eighteen years old, not nine. I’m at a loss to understand how this could have happened. It still doesn’t feel real.”

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