Cupid's Christmas (23 page)

“Lindsay’s gonna love you,” he whispered in the dog’s ear.

Again the dog cocked its head to first the right and then the left.

“You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?” Matthew mumbled, it was a rhetorical question directed more to himself than the dog, but at precisely that moment the dog moved forward and licked his face. He laughed. “Lindsay’s right, you are trying to tell us something.”

Eight days and counting
—Matthew had eight days to hold onto this secret, and after seeing the grin on his face, I had to question whether he’d be able to do it.

That evening as they sat on the sofa even Lindsay noticed how his face was molded into a perpetual grin. They were watching an episode of
Criminal Minds
, a particularly gruesome one at that, certainly not something to smile about. Lindsay glanced over a number of times then turned her eyes back to the television. Something was up, she was sure of it. When the third murder victim was found in a dumpster, Lindsay looked over at Matthew again. He was still wearing the same silly grin and she could stand it no longer.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked.

“No,” Matthew answered, “Why?”

“Well you’re acting very strange.”

“I am?”

“Yes,” she said. “You seem awfully happy about something.”

“I’m just happy to be here with you.”

A puzzled look settled on Lindsay’s face. “Maybe so,” she said, “but you’re not usually
this
happy.”

“It must be the Christmas season,” Matthew answered.

“I know what you mean,” Lindsay snuggled deeper into his arm and switched the channel to TBS because they were featuring a Holiday Movie Marathon. “Oh,
Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street
,” she sighed and developed a grin similar to his.

H
umans think Valentine’s Day is my favorite holiday—it’s not. Christmas is. Valentine’s Day is a farce, a joke. It’s a single day of sharing love—but Christmas, well there’s just no measuring the amount of love that stirs up. Humans of all sizes, shapes and ages start walking around with a smile on their face and wishing others Merry Christmas—you know how many do that for Valentine’s Day? None, that’s how many. On Valentine’s Day humans are lucky if they walk away with a greeting card or a little box of chocolates—and don’t even get me started on the number of them who neglect to do even that much and end up in arguments that stretch on for weeks.

Personally, I think Valentine’s Day deserves the same measure of love and happiness as Christmas, but The Boss thinks otherwise, so for now things are going to remain exactly as they are. He said Christmas was all about celebrating His Son’s birthday and of course I came back with—how about celebrating my birthday?

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you willing to give your life to save the humans?”

I had to answer no, which pretty much ended the discussion.

L
indsay’s cast came off four days later, and although her right leg was thinner and weaker, it was definitely cause for celebration. That evening she and Matthew again had dinner at Bistrot La Minette and even though the December night air had a nip to it, they strolled through the park afterward. They walked a short way then sat on a bench gazing at a white moon through the bare branches of trees. The snow flurries began a few moments later.

Lindsay dropped her head onto Matthew’s shoulder, “This is all so perfect,” she sighed, “being here with you, the restaurant, the snow…it’s as if God arranged this especially for us.”

She wasn’t too far from wrong.

C
hristmas morning Matthew arrived in time for breakfast. Just as John had promised, the side door to the garage was unlocked. Matthew carried the crate in then returned to the car for the dog and the shopping bag filled with presents. He sat the bag on the floor and placed the dog in the crate. “It won’t be long,” he whispered, “but you have to stay here and be quiet.”

The dog cocked its head to the right and whimpered.

“Shhhh,” Matthew shushed, “No noise.” He put his finger to his lips and repeated the shushing sound. For the past eight days he’d worked on teaching the dog not to bark when he walked away. Ever so slowly Matthew backed away from the cage and the dog sat silently. He turned, walked out the door and listened for a few more seconds—silence. Matthew gave a sigh of relief then circled the house and rang the front doorbell.

Lindsay opened the door. She was wearing a Santa hat with a sprig of mistletoe pinned onto it. “Merry Christmas,” she said, and pointed her index finger to the mistletoe.

Matthew set his shopping bag down and kissed her. “You didn’t need the mistletoe,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know,” she whispered back, “but consider it a call to action.”

They were halfway through breakfast when Lindsay heard the yelp. “Was that a dog?” she asked.

Eleanor said nothing but gave Matthew a questioning look. “What? I didn’t hear anything,” he said.

“Shhhh,” Lindsay said, and listened for it to come again but of course it didn’t.

“Must’ve been the wind,” John suggested.

“I guess,” Lindsay sighed, and went back to the conversation they were having.

Minutes later she heard it again. “Anyone hear that?” she asked, but all three of them immediately shook their head no.  Lindsay turned to Matthew, “Did you ever get any response on that poster I put up in the office?”

Before she’d finished the question, Matthew shoved a chunk of ham into his mouth and began chewing—“mumph,” he gave a gesture indicating he couldn’t talk with his mouth full.

Eleanor jumped in. “Goodness gracious, will you look at the time! I wonder what’s keeping Ray and Traci?” She followed the question with a lengthy oration on how much having the family together meant to her. Her voice was loud—much louder than normal.

“Are you okay?” Lindsay finally asked.

“Okay? Well of course I’m okay why would you think otherwise—”

“Well you’re talking awfully loud…” Lindsay said.

Fortunately Eleanor didn’t have to respond because the doorbell chimed.

Beyond the noise of people wishing each other Merry Christmas, Eleanor heard it again—the dog. Matthew had indicated he could keep her quiet, but apparently the dog disagreed and Eleanor didn’t want to spoil the surprise. “I think we could use a little Christmas music,” she said and slid a disk into the player. She cranked the volume up three notches.

“Isn’t that kind of loud?” Traci said.

 When everyone began shouting to be heard above the strains of
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
, John ejected the disk. “I think we can do without the music,” he said. Only after Eleanor glared across at him did he realize
why
she’d turned the music up so loud.

Seconds later they heard it again—a sharp high-pitched bark.

“Is that a dog?” Traci asked.

John, who by now had caught on, said, “Dog?”

“See, it is a dog,” Lindsay said, “Traci heard it also.” She turned to Traci, “You heard it right?”

By then the barking had stopped. “I thought I heard a bark,” Traci said, “but now I’m not too sure.”

No one noticed Matthew slip back through the dining room and out the kitchen door.  He came from the garage carrying a bundle of white fur but before he got to the archway of the living room, he set the dog down on the floor and pointed her toward the living room. “Go find Lindsay,” he whispered, and off the dog went. Hopefully his plan would work…

Since Lindsay had been looking for this dog for over four months, you might wonder why she wouldn’t recognize it right away—but don’t forget, the dog has been bathed, clipped and groomed, so it looks different. The only part of the dog that looks exactly the same is the eyes. Eyes never change. Eyes tell the truth of a person, and it’s no different with dogs. Of course, Lindsay may find it difficult to catch sight of her dog’s eyes in the frenzy of running and tail wagging.

Everything happened in a flash—the dog bounded into the room and ran from one person to another sniffing. First it was John—sniff, sniff. Nothing. The dog moved to Lindsay—sniff, sniff. Yep, that was who he’d been searching for, one leap and the ball of fur was in her lap. Lindsay took one look at the dog’s face and squealed, “You found my dog!” By then the dog was licking her face and reaching for the mistletoe on the Santa hat.

“It really is your dog,” Matthew said, “but, how’d you know?”

“Her eyes,” Lindsay answered.

Matthew walked over and looked at the dog’s eyes—despite his years of veterinary practice, he could not see what Lindsay saw.

“I’ve been looking for this dog for a long time,” Lindsay said, nuzzling her nose up against the fur of the dog’s face. “And it’s obvious that she’s been looking for me too, haven’t you sweetie?”

Matthew said nothing about how he’d trained the dog to recognize Lindsay by smell, how for the past nine days the dog had slept cuddled in the sweater she’d left in the office. “Yep, she’s definitely your dog,” he smiled.

A barrage of questions followed, most of which were about how he’d finally located the dog. I noticed that when Matthew told the story, he left out the how Jayne and Gerald were sad to see the dog go. Not that I blame him for doing so, some things are best left unsaid.

After several minutes of frolicking with the dog, Lindsay noticed the tiny red velvet pouch tied to her collar. “What’s this?” she asked looking at Matthew.

He answered with the same look he’d given her that first night in the park, the look that caused her to fall in love with him—the look that promised forever. Her fingers trembled as she untied the silk thread that fastened the pouch to the collar.

No one spoke. Traci stopped halfway through opening a package and sat waiting.

Lindsay eased the tip of her finger into the pouch and loosened the drawstring. Even when the pouch was fully open it was too small to reach into so Lindsay turned it over and shook the contents into her lap. It was a tiny square of paper that had been folded over countless times. Slowly she began to peel it open…the paper was a pale blue color and she could see bits of writing…the first fold revealed parts of a word
ar…
the next fold revealed a
y
the third fold revealed
wil
Lindsay thought she had it figured out until the next fold attached a
mo
to the y…
ymo?
She opened the last three folds but with all the creases it still wasn’t readable. Lindsay smoothed the paper out and read it aloud… “Will you join me for a honeymoon in Paris?”

For a moment she sat there too stunned to speak. Then she looked over at Matthew and with tears in her eyes, answered “Yes.”

Matthew crossed the room in three long strides, and scooped her into his arms. “I love you, Lindsay,” he said, and before she could answer, he covered her mouth with his. When the kiss ended Matthew brought his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Read the other side.”

“Read the other side?” she repeated looking at him quizzically.

He nodded. “Read the other side of the paper.”

Lindsay looked down at the paper in her hand then turned it over. On the other side were a few words printed in such a small size that it was barely readable. She brought the paper closer to her face and stumbled through the words… “Look… on the tree.”