A Christmas Home: A Novel (16 page)

“Paul, this is Ed. I have the young man I told you about, Todd McCray, up in my office. He’s ready for a brief tour.”

“Ten-four,” came a crackling voice in response. “I’ll meet you at the work door.”

“Paul will show you around. He would be your direct supervisor. Let’s go down to the dairy barns and I’ll introduce you.”

Ed and Todd walked through the remainder of the dairy’s office space, through the sections for accounting and marketing, and toward the exit that led to the barns. Although Todd wasn’t exactly neat, he couldn’t help but notice stacks of papers and dirty coffee cups everywhere in the office, mini-blinds caked with dust, and a broken computer heaped in a corner by the photocopier. A wall calendar by the drinking fountain indicated that it was May. His mother, who was constantly trying to tidy up his cabin, would not have approved.

Paul Vernon, a heavyset man with thinning red hair, pushed through one of the steel side doors and walked across the concrete floor to meet Ed and Todd. Paul shook Todd’s hand. “Why don’t you go through that door and take a look around outside the barns?” He pointed to the door. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

After Todd had walked out the door, Paul asked Ed, using the voice ten-year-old boys reserve to mimic the severely retarded, “Duhh, Duhh, Rrr … uuu … going … to … geeb … him … a … jaab?”

Ed wasn’t amused. “Don’t be a jerk, Paul. I’ve been telling you for two weeks to get someone in there to clean. I ran the ad for you, and you’ve not bothered to get anyone
in here. The barns look awful. If the USDA makes one of their surprise inspections, they’re going to write you up. You haven’t gotten around to interviewing anyone, so I’m trying to help you out. What’s the problem?”

Paul rolled his eyes at what he had already concluded was a bit of misguided do-gooding by Ed. “I want someone that’ll do lots of work and very little talking. Can your kid handle it?”

“We’ll see.”

Paul walked out the back door and caught up with Todd, still not that happy about his newest responsibility. The Federal Department of Immigration and Naturalization did not have a field office anywhere near Crossing Trails, Kansas. Not so coincidentally, Paul Vernon had become lax on his paperwork. Much of the dairy’s labor force consisted of migrants from Mexico who spoke little English, would do what they were told, and never complained. Paul’s labor cost per gallon of milk produced was getting him high marks from headquarters. He was hoping for a nice bonus this year. Ed Lee was supposed to run the office and Paul was supposed to run the barns. Paul didn’t like Ed’s encroaching into his space. He didn’t like someone else picking the people he had to supervise. Still, maybe the kid would work out.

Paul hurried Todd through the barns, making cursory comments about the automated feeders, the automated washers, the automated milking apparatus, and the seemingly automated cows, each confined to a small space for
the remainder of her short life. He pointed to the thick red commercial hoses that were attached to the walls. “Those will be your best friends. They’re high-pressure hoses. We use them to wash the cow crap off the floor.”

While Paul focused on the equipment, Todd’s attention kept reverting to the cows. Milk cows have large udders, but the hormones these cattle were given had caused elephantine, gross swelling. Several cows, even from a distance, seemed ill to Todd. Not only did the cows look unhealthy, but the barn was a mess. The valuable inventory of Paradise Valley Farms was stacked into stalls as tightly and neatly as two-liter bottles of soda pop in a grocery aisle, and they were standing ankle-deep in their own waste.

Todd felt the need to get right to work cleaning the pens. “Looks like you can use my help now. The pens are pretty dirty.”

Paul had to admit that Todd was showing some initiative, so he tried to lighten up his attitude. “I guess that’s why Ed Lee is hot to trot to get you hired. I had a few folks quit on me. They took their paychecks and went straight to Juárez. They never came back like they said they would.”

Paul hurried Todd through the rest of the barns and back to Ed Lee’s office. As Paul turned to leave, Ed helped Todd to a chair and said, “Just a second, Todd. I’ll be right back.”

He shut the door behind him and spoke briefly with Paul. “What did you think?”

“I guess he’ll do. It’s your call.”

Ed wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t particularly like Paul, but headquarters did, so he put up with him and tried to defer to him when he could.

Ed rejoined Todd. “What did you think?”

“The barns need cleaning, but I know how to do that.”

“Todd, thanks for coming in. We have a few more interviews set up for this afternoon, but we should be able to make a decision in a few days. We’ll call you one way or the other.”

Ed walked Todd out to the parking lot. “Do you have big Christmas plans?”

“No. My brothers and sister usually drive out and my mom cooks a big dinner. Turkey.”

“Sounds good.”

Todd got in his truck, let the engine idle for a minute, and tried to ponder what had just happened. He had never seen or experienced anything like this before. The environment and atmosphere at the dairy were very different from those of the shelter. For reasons he could not explain, the dairy frightened him. He wished that Christmas could have been there with him. He missed the security the dog provided. He guessed this was what his dad had meant when he said the dairy was about making money and the shelter was about caring for animals.

Todd fastened his seat belt and pulled up to the security gate. He returned his visitor’s pass to the guard. The guard took the plastic laminated card from Todd and said, “Thank you for visiting Paradise Valley Farms. Drive safely.”

Todd nodded and drove off the lot to Buckley, a small town between Crossing Trails and the dairy, and got gas. While the tank was filling he read a text message from Hayley, “How did it go???”

Todd called her and explained, “Mr. Lee seemed nice, and I liked the cows. They need my help. The pens really need cleaning. The man who runs the barns is named Paul, and he is nothing like you. I don’t think he would make a good shelter manager, but maybe dairies are different because they’re more about money. Mr. Lee said he would think about it and give me a call. It pays more than the shelter, a lot more. I didn’t ask, but he told me anyway.”

“You seem a little uncertain. Do you want this one?”

Todd thought for a minute. He knew he needed to work, to make money, to have some purpose in life. He certainly didn’t want to find himself moving back in with his parents, and he didn’t like the idea that he might not have anything to do all day. He didn’t want to move backward; he wanted to move forward—to be more independent, not less. Most important, he didn’t want Laura to think he was irresponsible. If he didn’t have a job, his future with Laura might be very limited. Still, the dairy didn’t feel quite right to him. “I don’t know if I want it, but I guess I need it. It’s probably what’s best.”

THREE DAYS
after they had so successfully kicked off their holiday fostering event, Todd was digging through an old box of clothing that his mother had saved for him from various Halloweens and other holidays. He was trying to figure out exactly what to wear for his caroling date with Laura and her parents. Laura’s mother was so proud of the doggie vests she had bought for the shelter that she had suggested that Todd and Laura should add two special features to the evening’s event. “Why not bring a couple of shelter dogs along and maybe someone will see them and adopt one of them on the spot?”

Laura was not certain it was a great idea, but after discussing it with Todd and Hayley, they all decided that it was consistent with their strategy of getting the dogs out of the shelter and into the community. Hayley encouraged them. “Give it a try.”

Laura conceded, “I guess you’re right; we can try it and see what happens.”

At the bottom of the box Todd found the stocking cap with the protruding reindeer antlers he’d gotten as a gift from his brother Jonathan several years ago. He took the hat out of the box and tried it on to see if it still fit. The hat was snug, but warm.

Being uncertain of the dress code for the evening, Todd called his mother. When she answered the phone, he asked, “Mom, what should I wear for Christmas singing with dogs?”

“Todd, slow down. I don’t know what you mean.”

Todd was accustomed to this complaint. He had been taught to break down his thoughts into multiple, more detailed sentences for those who didn’t think the way he did. “I am going door-to-door singing with Laura and her parents tonight. We’re going to sing Christmas songs.”

“Todd, you can wear whatever you want when you go caroling. Just make sure you dress warmly.”

Todd looked down at his worn jacket and work gloves. “I’m good.”

He walked over and opened the door. “Mom, I’m letting Christmas out. He needs to stay with you tonight.”

Mary Ann considered telling him to sing softly and
then reminded herself to just allow Todd to be Todd. “Have a really great time tonight. I love you.” At the very last minute, she just couldn’t control herself. “If you don’t know the song real well, you should probably sing very softly.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Todd gathered up his coat and hurried out the door. The truck took a few minutes to warm up. When he was sure he had gas in the tank, his headlights were turned on, and no engine warning lights were flashing, he put the truck in gear and pulled out onto the highway, headed to town.

The drive was pleasant. Todd turned the radio on and listened to Christmas music. Just as Dolly Parton finished
“
Hard Candy Christmas,” Todd pulled into the lot of the shelter. He ran inside, got Ranger and Mac, and returned to the truck with their
ADOPT ME
vests in hand.

When Todd arrived at Laura’s house—the two canine sopranos in the cab with him—the small group of carolers was already gathered in the yard and warming up with “Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful.…”

Todd shook hands and exchanged introductions with the few relatives he did not already know, and then Laura’s mother suggested the arrangement for the group. “Todd, you and the two dogs, in their wonderful vests, should stand at the front of the choir so that when our neighbors open their doors they’ll be able to see Ranger and Mac and just want to keep them.”

“Mom,” Laura interjected, “it’s not that easy.”

Hearing no objection from Todd and ignoring Laura’s plea to be more realistic about dog adoption, Mrs. Jordan gestured at Todd to go to the front of the group, and they headed down West Birch Street on a chilly December evening under a full moon.

Ginny and John Jordan, Laura’s parents, sensed that Christmas caroling had become a bit dated, but every year it seemed like more and more people encouraged them to keep at it. As the holiday season neared, their friends and neighbors would approach them with the same message: “We don’t have traditions anymore. I’m so glad your family does this.”

John was skeptical. “They are just having so much fun laughing at us that they don’t want us to stop.”

Laura’s mom asked the group, “Why don’t we start with ‘Silent Night, Holy Night’? That’s an easy one.” She looked at Todd. “Do you know that one?”

Todd had three versions of the song on his iPod playlist and knew it by heart. That was good; he would not have to sing softly because he knew the words. “I like that one. It’s pretty good.”

As they approached the first house, Ginny gave her instructions to Todd, “Just ring the doorbell, say ‘Merry Christmas,’ and then we start singing!”

So he would have at least one hand free, Ginny took the leash attached to the feisty little terrier, Ranger. Todd kept control of Mac’s lead. Ranger was particularly pleased
to be out on a stroll that night and was a tad unruly as he bounced about on the end of the leash.

They were standing near the steps of a yellow house with black shutters and a magnificent holly wreath hanging from the front door. Proudly perched on the three porch steps in ascending sizes were three Styrofoam snowmen outfitted with giant carrot noses and red button eyes. Juggling the leash and the song sheets in his left hand, Todd used his right hand to ring the doorbell. The carolers cleared their throats and waited for their cue.