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Authors: Gregory D Kincaid

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BOOK: A Christmas Home: A Novel
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ON CUE
Todd’s cell phone sounded at 9:30 the next morning and he called Brenda Williams to tell her about the plight of the shelter. She was stunned.

“Todd, that is awful. How could they do that to your shelter? I guess dogs can’t vote, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I think it’s about money,” Todd added.

“It always is. I’m afraid that raising adequate tax money for the town and the county is a big challenge, even for the Problem Solver.”

“Can you do anything about it?”

“Maybe we need to stage a good old-fashioned doggy sit-in. We can bring the dogs, spread newspapers out on the floor of the town hall, and after a few days of
accidents
, maybe they’ll give in!”

Todd thought this was funny and laughed at the image in his head. “I like it. Do you think it’ll work?”

“Probably not, but let me think on it some more and I’ll get back to you in a day or two with something more realistic.”

Late that morning Laura made Todd and Hayley lunch and brought it by the shelter to cheer them up. She included a few brightly decorated Christmas cookies that one of the nurses had brought into the Wellness Center. She went into the break room, put their lunches on the table, and tuned the radio to one of the local stations that played holiday music all day long. “Come on, guys,” she proclaimed, “let’s get a little holiday spirit going here! It’s Christmas in Crossing Trails!”

Hayley playfully grabbed the proffered lunch and growled, “Bah humbug!” and returned to her desk to answer e-mails.

Laura remained with Todd in the small break room and talked with him while he ate. With Christmas and Gracie beside them, they tried to get their minds around the challenges before them.

“How many résumés have you sent out?” Laura asked.

“Seven. I applied for all the jobs in the classified section of the paper that were a fit for me. Hayley helped me send them out this morning. My dad circled some and Hayley
found a few more for me. She says if they like my résumé, they might call me in for an interview.”

“Which ones sounded the best to you?”

“The one that sounded best was at Paradise Valley Farms. It’s that big dairy that’s not too far away from here, and I could work with cows. They’re not as much fun as dogs, but I still like cows. The one that sounded the worst was the housekeeper at Bargain Beds Motel.”

The picture in Laura’s mind of Todd tidying up and changing linens caused her to smile for a second, but she realized there was no humor in the situation. These days it was so hard for even the most qualified candidates to find employment. For Todd, finding a job might be a nearly impossible task. She knew that every opening would have a large pool of applicants. What reasonable chance did he have?

“I’m going to miss working here,” Todd said.

“I know you will, Todd. I’m going to miss volunteering and seeing you, Hayley, and Doc Pelot.”

Todd didn’t want Laura to see the hurt and worry on his face, so he leaned down to pet the dogs.

Laura caught the sadness in the air. She removed her phone from her purse. “Todd, I want to work on our calendars.”

Todd looked up a bit startled.

Laura continued, “We’ve got a lot going on, and things are going to get crazy around here if we don’t get organized.
I want to make sure neither of us misses the important stuff. Let’s sync our phones.”

Todd was remarkably competent with his cell phone. His fingers moved adroitly between its myriad functions. By pushing the icon that looked like the page from on old-fashioned flip calendar, he opened the calendar app. He looked up at her. “I’m ready.”

“Today is Tuesday, December tenth, and this Friday, at our normal staff meeting, we need a game plan for finding about fifty dogs and cats a home in less than three weeks.”

Todd checked his calendar. He already had Friday’s meeting down. “I’ve got it.”

“Good, now that same Friday we’re going out for an early dinner. You and me only. It’s Dutch.”

Although unsure about Dutch food, Todd still liked the idea. He looked blankly at his calendar for December 13. There was nothing entered. He wondered how he had missed the event. “I didn’t have that down.”

Laura was trying to stare into Todd’s eyes. She waited for him to notice. When he did, she reached out and rested her hand softly on his. When she was sure she had his attention, she clutched his hand and finished the thought. “You didn’t have it down, because I just made the date. Now we are going to make some more dates. I’m going to be here for you, Todd, whether you work at the shelter or not.”

When Todd caught on, he blushed, his face hot and cool at the same time. “Thanks, Laura. Let’s make some dates.”

“Here is another one for you. Next Wednesday, December 18, my mom and dad would like you to go Christmas caroling with us. Put that one down.”

“I’m putting it down, Laura,” Todd said. “I’m putting it down.”

IN THE
early afternoon, many patients napped, and with their patient census low, things slowed down at the Wellness Center. Laura and Gracie found themselves with an hour of unscheduled time and wandered down the halls. They ended up at the door of one of their favorite patients, Hank Fisher. Laura looked inside to see if he was awake. Hank immediately lit up at the sight of the duo.

“Come on in and see me!”

Laura’s legs had started to bother her, and when that happened the pain often radiated up into her hips. Still, she never complained. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Hank motioned to a chair. “Please do.”

Hank had suffered a series of ongoing heart problems and had contracted a bad case of the flu. He was stubborn about not getting the rest he needed, so they had put him
in the hospital, where he had no other choice. Hank’s wife had died earlier in the summer.

Because Hank lived just down the road from the McCray farm, George was helping with his chores while he was in the hospital. Hank and Doc Pelot were also longtime friends. They were the only survivors of the group that had helped establish the shelter many years ago, and they had remained close friends ever since. Doc Pelot admiringly described Hank as the “money man.” While Hank scoffed at the notion of a dairy farmer having money, a few years ago he had given twenty thousand dollars for some much needed shelter renovations.

After Laura told him about the closing of the shelter, he let Laura know he wasn’t happy about it. “I wish I had known this was going to happen—what a waste of my hard-earned money. If I wasn’t already sick, this would have done me in. That twenty thousand dollars might just as well have been flushed down the toilet.” He paused and settled down, resigned. “Oh, well, I guess there could have been far worse places to put my little stash. Live and learn.”

Hank clutched Gracie’s fur in his wrinkled left hand. She stayed beside him and looked up at him with affectionate approval of his massaging touch. Prone, enveloped in white sheets, and resting in the oversized hospital bed, Hank looked small and frail, but his opinions were still strong.

“Laura, the longer you live the more you realize that
there is a lot in life you just have to accept. That said, there are also times when you have to put your foot down. You know, Gandhi said something about animals that has stuck with me for a long time.” He paused and thought back for a moment. “In fact, when Doc Pelot and I started the shelter back in the seventies, I wanted to make it our motto. You know, put it on a giant stone monument in front of the shelter where everyone could see it. I never got around to it. I guess I should have.”

Laura leaned against the edge of the bed for support. “Do you remember what he said?”

“Sure. Well, at least the gist of it. He said that ‘the greatness of a nation can be measured by the treatment of its animals.’ I guess this makes me wonder about us. Do you agree with him?”

“Yes, Mr. Fisher, I know what he meant. I’ve heard the same message before, delivered in a different way.” In fact, the Gandhi quote was one of her favorites. She looked down at the floor, not sure if she should say what was on her mind, but then she continued, “ ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ ”

Hank smiled. “That’s right. That could go on our stone monument, too. You get it. It means we can’t sit around and let this happen.” Hank pushed a button on the side of his bed that elevated him to more of a sitting position. “Now, young lady, this is the kind of talk I like! So what are we going to do about it?”

“What can we do?”

“Plenty.”

Todd put the last of the Christmas cookies Laura had brought him for lunch in the microwave. He liked to eat them warm. With his cookie supply depleted, he started on his afternoon duties. About twenty minutes into his routine, Todd got a call from George, who was asking for his permission to call an old acquaintance who worked at Paradise Valley Farms—the dairy that had advertised for help in the newspaper. Todd had told both his parents and Laura that was the best job he’d seen.

“Why do you want to call him?” Todd asked.

“Just to tell them that you’ve put in your application there and that you are a good worker, and to make sure they give you a good look. It doesn’t hurt knowing people who can put in a good word for you.”

“When will I start?”

“Todd, I’m not saying I can get you the job. I’m just saying I’ll call over and see what’s going on. What they’re looking for. That kind of stuff.”

“Okay, let me know.”

Dealing with Todd’s disability could try George’s patience, but within a few minutes the frustrations had faded. He would smile, amazed at how Todd’s mind
operated, and a more pleasing and accepting attitude would prevail. He thought about calling Mary Ann and relaying the latest Toddism on the art of getting a job, but he decided to call Ed Lee instead. He searched through his old address book until he found the number. He had not talked to Ed in years and was not sure Ed would even remember him.

Until the early 1980s both Ed Lee and George had operated small dairy farms in different parts of Cherokee County. Big corporate dairies had driven them and most other small operators out of business. George’s neighbor to the west, Hank Fisher, was the one notable exception. When he closed down his own operation, Ed had taken the
if you can’t beat ’em join ’em
approach and got a job as a manager at Paradise Valley Farms. For his own part, George had moved from dairy farming to one of the dwindling areas where small-scale farming remained profitable—he primarily planted row crops such as wheat, soybeans, and corn, and had a few dozen head of beef cattle to keep him occupied in the winter months. He generated very modest profits from farming, but when that income was combined with his military disability pension—stemming from an injury to his leg during the Vietnam war—and Mary Ann’s teacher salary, they got by.

Ed remembered George from random meetings of the old dairy farmers’ cooperative and just from seeing him around town for the past sixty years. They spoke for a few minutes about the dairy business before George got to the
point of the call. He tried to be as up front as possible about his son and his disabilities. “Todd is a hard worker,” he said. “It just might take him a little longer to master some tasks. He’ll do better when you show him how and don’t just tell him how.”

BOOK: A Christmas Home: A Novel
10.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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