The Christmas Dog (12 page)

As she entered the building, hearing barks and yelps of other dogs, she knew that she’d done Avery a big favor by handling this on her own. It took strength to do something like this.

“May I help you?” asked a young woman in blue jeans and a sweatshirt.

Betty quickly explained her phone call and how a man had told her she could bring the dog in. The woman asked her some questions and finally handed her a rather lengthy form. Betty carefully filled it in and gave it back to her.

The woman studied the form, then frowned at Betty. “You’re sure you wouldn’t want to keep this dog?”

Betty glanced down at the dog. He looked up with such trusting brown eyes that she forced herself to turn away. She shook her head. “No, no. I can’t have a dog. You see, I go to Florida next month, and I don’t have anyone to care for him . . .” She continued rambling about how she planned to sell her house and perhaps look into some kind of retirement home. Even to her own ears it all sounded rather lonely and sad . . . and perhaps a little bit phony.

The woman took the leash from Betty’s hand. “It’s not required, but we like to recommend that people who leave pets in the shelter make some kind of a donation toward the welfare of the animal.”

Betty tried not to look too surprised as she opened her purse. “I live on a fixed income,” she explained as she extracted a ten-dollar bill and several ones. “Will this be enough?”

“Thank you.” The woman smiled. “That will help to buy pet food.”

Betty nodded and backed away from the woman and the dog. “Yes . . . I suppose it will.” She turned and made her way to the front door, realizing that everything looked blurry now. She reached for the doorknob but couldn’t actually see it. She fumbled until it turned in her hand. Then, as she went out into the cold air, she realized she had tears running down her cheeks. She was crying again. The third time this week. And this time, she was crying harder.

She paused to reach for a handkerchief, drying her tears and blowing her nose before getting back into Marsha’s warm car.
Goodness
, she thought as she tucked her hanky back in her coat pocket,
all this emotion—just for a dog?

11

Betty was relieved to see that her car was not in the garage when Marsha pulled into her driveway.

“You seem very quiet today,” Marsha said as she put her car into park. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Betty sniffed. “As I said, it’s been a little stressful this week.”

“I hope our anniversary party hasn’t added to your stress.”

“No, not at all. In fact, Avery seems to have thoroughly enjoyed helping.”

“I’m so excited to see what she’s done.”

Betty nodded. “So am I.”

“And now I better get over to the cleaner’s.” Marsha looked at her watch. “Can you believe that I’m still not finished packing yet?”

“Oh, I nearly forgot about the cruise Jim booked.” Betty gathered her purse and reached for the door handle. “When do you leave again?”

“Sunday morning. We’ll miss the Christmas service in church.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Betty sighed as she opened the door.

“At least you’ll have Avery to keep you company.” Marsha reached over and patted Betty’s shoulder. “That’s a real comfort to me. I told Jim that I felt sad to think of you spending Christmas alone this year.”

Betty forced a smile. She did not intend to tell Marsha that Avery might be going home after all. Why cause her concern? “Avery has decorated the house and wants us to cook a turkey. Do you know I haven’t cooked a turkey in years?” Betty was out of the car now. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Marsha. Thank you again for helping me with the dog.”

Marsha waved as she backed out of the driveway.

Betty went through the garage into the house. She paused by the laundry room, where the dog’s things were still in their place, as if the dog would be coming home any moment. Betty quickly gathered up the dog bed and bowls and stashed them on a low shelf in the garage. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so she hoped.

Then she made a cup of tea and sat down in her recliner to relax. But as she sat there, all she could think about was that silly little dog. And even when she closed her eyes, hoping for a nap, she felt as if those liquid-brown canine eyes were indelibly printed inside her head. Finally, she reached for the remote and turned on the TV, flipping through the familiar channels until a figure skater appeared.

“I’m home,” Avery called as she came into the living room.

Betty opened her eyes, blinking into the light.

“Sorry, Grandma. Did I wake you?”

“It’s okay.” She smiled at her granddaughter, watching as Avery removed her parka and unwound the bright scarf from around her neck.

“It’s so cold out.” Avery rubbed her hands together. “I really think it’s going to snow.”

“You might be right.” Betty put the footrest down and sat up straight. “So, tell me, how did the decorating go?”

Avery’s eyes lit up. “It was awesome, Grandma. It looks really, really cool.”

“Cool?” Betty nodded, taking this in.

“Way better than I expected. No one will even remember they’re in the church basement. It’s like another world down there now.”

“Another world?” Betty wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was it another world like Mexico, or a pirate’s cove, or Mars perhaps? Still, she was determined not to show the slightest sign of distrust.

“Where’s Ralph?” Avery asked.

Betty stood slowly.

“Grandma?” Avery’s voice sounded worried now. “Where is he? Did you find him? Is he okay?”

“Avery . . .” Betty looked into her granddaughter’s eyes. “I have something to tell you.”

“Has he been hurt?” Avery looked truly upset now.

“No, he’s perfectly fine.”

Avery looked relieved. “Oh, good. But where is he? Outside?”

“He’s not here.”

Avery frowned. “Where is he, Grandma?”

Betty walked into the kitchen. She knew she was stalling, but she just hadn’t thought this through properly. How was she going to explain to Avery what she’d done? How was she going to make her understand?

“Grandma?” Avery followed her.

“The dog had run away again,” Betty began. “I looked all over the neighborhood for him, Avery. I was quite worried.

Finally, I found him. It turned out he was with Jack, in his truck.”

“Did Jack take Ralph?”

“No.”

“Then what?” Avery said. “Where is Ralph?”

“I knew that you were considering going home for Christmas, Avery. In fact, I think that’s probably just what you need to do, and—”

“What does that have to do with Ralph?”

“Well, as you know, I can’t keep a dog. I’ll be going to Susan’s in January. And I may even sell my—”

“Please, Grandma, just cut to the chase. Where is Ralph?”

“I took him to the animal shelter.”

“To the pound? You took him to the pound?”

“It’s an animal shelter,” Betty corrected. “They’ll take good care of him and find him a home or perhaps his original own—”

“Unless the pound is overcrowded,” Avery snapped. “And then they might just kill him.”

“Oh, no,” Betty said quickly. “They are good people. And I gave them money for dog food. They won’t hurt him.” But even as she said this, she didn’t know it for certain. And the idea of those people hurting that dog, or that Betty was responsible, cut through her like a knife.

Avery was crying now. She sank down into a kitchen chair, holding her head in her hands and sobbing. “I love that dog, Grandma. I needed him.”

Betty didn’t know what to say. And when the phone rang, she was relieved for the distraction. Until she realized it was Avery’s mother on the other end. She’d completely forgotten about Avery’s promise to make a decision by tonight.

“Hello, Stephanie.” Betty’s voice was flat.

“May I speak to Avery, please?”

Betty glanced to where Avery was still sobbing at the kitchen table. “Avery is, uh, well, she’s unable to come to the phone right now.”

“Unable? Or unwilling?”

“She’s a bit upset,” Betty said.

“Upset? Why? What’s going on there, Betty?”

“She’s sad that I took a stray dog to the animal shelter.”

“Is that all? Well, put her on the line, please. I need to speak to her.”

Betty stretched the cord of the phone over to where Avery was sitting. Covering the mouthpiece, Betty said quietly, “It’s your mother, dear. She wants to speak to you.”

Avery looked up with watery eyes. “I don’t want to speak to her.” Then she stood, but before she left the room, she added, “Or you either.”

Betty felt a lump in her throat as she put the phone back to her ear. “I’m sorry, Stephanie, but Avery really doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“Well, when does Avery want to talk?”

“I really can’t say, dear.” Betty heard the front door open and close.

“Because we need to figure this out. Gary just found an airline ticket online. It’s not cheap, but it’s better than we expected.”

“That’s good.”

“That’s only good if Avery is coming home.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Betty looked out the kitchen window, peering out into the darkness and worrying about her granddaughter being out on the streets alone on a cold winter night.

“And we don’t know if Avery is coming home. There is no point in wasting good money on air fare if Avery has no intention of coming home. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Betty?” Stephanie said as if she were speaking to a child.

“Of course.”

“So, can you tell me what we should do? Should I tell Gary to get the ticket?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Can you promise me that you’ll see to it that Avery gets to the airport and gets on the plane? It’s a red-eye flight.”

“A red-eye flight?”

“Yes. The plane leaves at 10:15 p.m. your time.”

“At night?”

“P.m. means night, Betty.”

“Yes, I know that.” She imagined herself driving Avery to the airport at night. Betty did not see well after dark. And the airport was nearly an hour away.

“So, do we book the flight or not, Betty?” Stephanie’s voice was sounding more and more impatient. She reminded Betty of a rubber band that was stretched too tightly.

“I just don’t see how I can possibly make that decision,” Betty said.

“Well, someone needs to.”

“And I believe that someone is Avery.”

“Then put Avery on the phone!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s not here.”

“But you said—”

“She stepped out.”

“But it’s nighttime. Even in your time zone it must be dark out.”

“Yes, it is. I’m sorry, Stephanie, but I really don’t see how I can help you. You and Gary will have to make your own decision about the plane ticket.”

Somehow Betty managed to extract herself from the phone conversation, then she hurriedly put on her coat and went outside to see if she could find Avery. She went up and down the street, looking this way and that, feeling foolish, old, and tired. Really, what chance did she have of catching up with a young girl?

Finally, she returned home in defeat. Out of curiosity, she checked Avery’s room. It was something of a relief to see that Avery had taken nothing with her. Not even her purse. Perhaps she was just taking a walk to cool off. But with temperatures dropping below freezing tonight, she would cool off quickly.

It was nearly eight when Betty finally made some oatmeal for her dinner, but even then she didn’t feel hungry. Where was Avery? Was she okay? Should Betty call the police and report her as missing? Would they even be concerned? Wasn’t there some kind of rule about a person being missing more than one day before they would search? But perhaps Betty could explain that her granddaughter was distraught, possibly even depressed. Would they go and look for her then? If Marsha and Jim weren’t busy packing and preparing for their big day tomorrow as well as their anniversary cruise, Betty would call them and ask for help.

After only a few bites, Betty dumped her oatmeal and began to clean the kitchen. By nine, she decided to call the local police. Really, what could it hurt? But as she expected, they did not want to file a missing persons report yet.

“Most cases like this resolve themselves,” the woman told her. “Your granddaughter is probably on her way home right now.”

“But—”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll let our patrolmen know that she’s out there.”

“Oh, yes, I would appreciate that.” Betty gave her a description of Avery, thanked her again, and hung up. She looked out the living room window, staring out into the darkened street and hoping that, like the policewoman had assured her, Avery would suddenly show up at the door.

Finally, Betty attempted to watch some TV. And eventually she just went to bed, but she was too worried to sleep. And so she prayed. She prayed that somehow God would unravel this tangled mess that she felt responsible for creating. She prayed that God would somehow take what appeared to be evil and transform it into good.

At just a few minutes past eleven, Betty heard the front door open and close. She’d purposely left it unlocked in the hopes that Avery would return. But now she was worried. What if a perfect stranger had just walked into her home? Perhaps her strange neighbor Jack?

Betty remained motionless, almost afraid to breathe as she listened to quiet footsteps. Then she heard someone using the bathroom. And then going into Avery’s room and closing the door. Of course, it had to be Avery. But just to be sure, Betty slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the living room. Hanging limply over the back of an armchair was Avery’s parka and bright red scarf. She was safe.

12

Betty slept in later than usual on Saturday morning. Probably due to her late night and worries about her granddaughter. Still, she felt hopeful as she got out of bed. She was optimistic as she did her morning stretches, then pulled on her thick, quilted robe. Avery was home, and this morning they would talk. Betty would apologize for taking Ralph (yes, she was calling the dog by his name now) to the shelter. And perhaps she and Avery could figure this whole thing out together. Maybe there was a way that Avery could keep the dog. Even if it meant Betty had to use some of her savings to pay for the dog to fly to Atlanta with Avery. Oh, some might think it foolish on Betty’s part, but maybe it was just what the girl needed.