A Christmas Home: A Novel (24 page)

TODD AND
Christmas returned home to visit every other weekend in January and February. George missed him, but he and Mary Ann could not deny that Todd was thriving. In every phone call home their son was full of excitement, and he could not stop talking about all the things he was learning and experiencing. His voice was filled with purpose; he had the makings of a life of his own.

For his parents, life was lonely without Todd living down the hill, and losing Christmas was also very painful. George felt that the custody arrangement needed discussing again. Todd was narrowing in on a more permanent place of his own and anticipated making a move soon. On a trip back home in February, George asked Todd, “How about letting the old boy stay here with us for a few weeks? I’m really missing him.”

Todd understood. “Sure, Dad. I’ll bring him back for a
long visit in March. Then when I move into my new apartment in April he can come back home with me.”

Laura drove to Washington on most weekends when Todd didn’t get back to Crossing Trails, and when they weren’t together, their cell phones were well used and they kept each other’s e-mail in-boxes full. On a Sunday in April, George, Mary Ann, and Laura helped Todd move out of Thorne’s cabin. Laura was going to take a few days off from the Wellness Center and help Todd get situated in Washington. They cleaned and boxed and loaded everything he would need for his new apartment either into the back of Todd’s upgraded truck or into the small trailer he had rented.

Slowly, Mary Ann was coming to terms with Todd’s new arrangement, but still it was hard. Most evenings she found herself looking down at Thorne’s cabin, half expecting to see a light left on. She missed him terribly. For George, it was no better. Spending time with Todd and Christmas had been woven into his daily routine, and their absence was taking a toll on him. He looked lost as he pulled the ball cap off his head and pushed back his graying hair.

Unknowingly, Todd made it worse. He took a box from his father, looked down at Christmas, and said to him, “This one has your things in it. For your new home.” The dog’s tail wagged excitedly.

Once Todd had his own place, George and Mary Ann warned Todd that they planned to visit frequently. He
seemed to like that idea, so they set a date for the first trip two weeks out.

By early afternoon, they were all loaded and ready to leave. George and Mary Ann hugged Todd and Laura and insisted several times, “Call as soon as you reach Washington. Send us pictures of the new place.”

Todd fished in one of the boxes and held up the picture of George and Bo McCray. “Dad, I’m going to hang this one first. It’s my favorite.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Grandpa Bo reminds me of you.”

“Thanks, son.”

Todd gave George a big hug and said, “Thanks for letting me ride on your shoulders, too.” Then he turned and headed for his truck.

George swallowed hard as he crouched down to hold Christmas close to him. He promised himself that he would not cry when his boy and his dog both left him for good that morning. But what Todd had just said was weakening his resolve.

As he watched Todd walk away, he held on to the dog for another minute. Christmas was thirteen years old, George thought, and there was a chance he would never be back here on the farm again. He held the dog tightly and tried to let his heart express the gratitude he felt for having walked on this planet with such a wonderful dog. Christmas sensed the depth of communication that was
pouring from George and moved closer to him, nuzzling into his neck.

Mary Ann put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. She knew his history. He had lost a few dogs he had loved dearly, and each time it had been hard on him. She knew how much this parting was going to hurt. She also knew that George would gladly make this sacrifice for his youngest son. If Todd needed the support that Christmas gave him, then he would get it.

Finally, George stood up and said, “Go on, Christmas, you guys better hit the road.”

Laura and Gracie were already loaded and waiting patiently for the last of the good-byes.

George kicked unhappily at the gravel in the driveway. He could hear the little propellers on the weather vane spinning. Todd loaded Christmas into the truck cab with him and started to pull out of the driveway. When he was parallel with his parents, he stopped and rolled down the window. “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad. I love you.”

He then motioned to Laura that he was ready to go. She took off as the lead car. Todd followed her down to the end of the driveway, pulling his small rented trailer behind him.

Mary Ann squeezed George’s hand as they watched the truck come to a stop. The right turn signal began to blink. There was a long pause, and George assumed that Todd was waiting for a car to pass.

After a few more minutes, still with no change, George
and Mary Ann started to walk down the driveway together. “Now what’s wrong?” George asked.

Suddenly, the truck door opened and Todd got out. He was carrying the box of items that had been set aside for the old Lab. Christmas jumped out, following behind Todd as he rejoined his parents.

George looked up at his son as if to say, What’s up?

Todd waited for the dog to join them. He reached down and cupped his hand under the dog’s jaw, drawing his cool black nose right up to his ear. Todd smiled knowingly and nodded his head in assent. He looked up at his father and said, “You would never believe what Christmas just told me.”

True to form, George responded, “And what did Christmas say, Todd?”

The young man crouched down and pretended to receive another canine communiqué. “Are you sure, Christmas?” he asked. “Are you sure that this is what you want? Okay, I’ll tell them.”

Standing, Todd looked directly into his father’s eyes. “Christmas says that this is his home. This is where he belongs.” Todd handed the box of Christmas’s things to his father. As George reached out to take it, his moist eyes glistened in the sun, and he gave a nod that was so slight it was almost imperceptible. Seeing it, Todd knew that he and Christmas had done the right thing.

Todd looked at his parents, shrugged his shoulders quizzically, and said, “Dogs are like people. They change
their minds sometimes.” He turned and walked back to his truck, shut the door, and pulled out of the driveway, heading east.

George set the box down and held onto his dog until the sight and sound of the vehicle had faded entirely. He didn’t want to let go, but finally he stood and said, “I guess we’re both home now.”

The dog named Christmas walked back up the driveway toward the McCray farmhouse that afternoon with a slower gait, but with the same confidence that always made him such a special dog.

I would like to thank some people that have been particularly good and kind to me.

Gary Jansen and Becky Cabaza have been great editorial partners. They have helped me improve immeasurably as a writer. An editor’s job is complex, but at least in part it is surely to bring out the best in a writer and to guide him away from anything that is not honest or true. Thank you to you both. I hope our partnership continues for many more years to come.

I spent a lovely day in Washington, Kansas, last year visiting KSDS, a wonderful organization that provides highly trained canine assistance for people with disabilities. I can’t say enough about the magic that goes on behind their walls. Visit their webpage at
ksds.org
, and see a bit of that magic for yourself. Like Todd, I was simply amazed at what they can do with service and guide dogs. Thank you to Deb Tegethoff and to Larry Stigge for taking the time to
show me around KSDS and introduce me to some incredible dogs, and for reading passages from the manuscript to make sure I had the dog-training scenes right. Please keep up the good work.

After my first book,
A Dog Named Christmas
, was published,
Hallmark Hall of Fame
made a film version of the story. As part of that collaboration, I came to know some talented and generous people at Hallmark, and my ongoing friendships have meant a lot to me. In particular, thanks to Ellen Nesselrode and Jan Parkinson for their support of my work.

Also as part of that movie project, I came to better know another wonderful organization,
Petfinder.com
. Petfinder provides an extraordinarily valuable service by using photos on the Internet to help match shelter pets with potentially adoptive families. With the help of Hallmark and Random House, I worked with Petfinder to start a holiday fostering program a few years back. We called it “Foster a Lonely Pet for the Holiday,” and it has improved the lives of thousands of pets. Working with Petfinder has been an honor. Thanks especially to Emily Fromm, Kim Saunders, and Jane Harrell. What you do every day to put an end to the suffering of innocent animals deserves our highest praise. Thanks for letting me help with my small part.

My law office is often a busy place, and the people there work hard every day. To Joan Slevin and Martha Huggins, thank you for the hours you spent proofreading umpteen versions of my manuscripts. It’s bad enough having to fix
my mistakes all day long; you shouldn’t have been charged with a night shift of the same duties.

To my parents, Rod and Darlene Kincaid, and to that group of friends that were kind enough to read my manuscript and, like your mothers taught you, either said something nice or said nothing at all—good job. To my wife, Michale Ann, and my children, your contributions to my life are beyond words. Rudy, thanks for the long runs and your constant companionship. Together we get a lot of work done.

Whether you are reading this book at Christmas or at some other time, I hope the story entertained you. More important, I hope this little book encouraged you to see the potential in all of us, dogs and humans—notwithstanding our imperfections, real or perceived—to make a difference. Thank you to Todd, Mary Ann, George, and the fictional town of Crossing Trails for being the voice that helped me see that it is our task to leave the world, or at least our corner of it, a little better place than we found it.

Greg Kincaid

Olathe, Kansas

August 2012

Greg Kincaid, above, is hitching a ride on his grandfather’s shoulders, circa 1959. Greg and his family have lived on the same Kansas farm for six generations.