A Gift For Santa. Beth Carpenter
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I’ve learned my lesson.”
Dana stopped in the middle of reaching for her keys. “I’m getting together with some friends for a movie tonight. Want to come?”
“No, thanks. You have fun.”
She threw a look of concern over her shoulder on her way out the door, but finally left him in peace. He smiled and shook his head. Funny girl. When he and Dana were growing up, their mother had basically checked out, spending all her time compulsively shopping rather than nurturing her family. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, Dana had developed a strong mothering instinct. With no other outlet, she’d focused that instinct on him. Never mind he was five years older than her or that they’d been apart for nineteen years; she was convinced he couldn’t cross the street without her. Not that he really minded. It was fun having his little sister around again.
She had no reason to worry about him, at least when it came to Marissa. Chris had never had much trouble finding female companionship whenever the mood struck. He wasn’t so lonely he was likely to start mooning over the one woman he knew for sure didn’t want him. There were a dozen women he could call if he felt like a date. But he didn’t call them.
Instead, he gathered up the laundry and started a load. Then he decided to surprise Dana by vacuuming and cleaning. It was only fair. She was busy and he wasn’t. It was midafternoon when he remembered about the gate. He pulled on boots, and was reaching for his jacket when he glanced out the window to see Ryan lifting the latch and calling Kimmik outside. By the time Chris pulled on his coat and made it to the door, boy and dog were playing fetch in the cul-de-sac.
“Hey, Ryan.”
The boy looked up, eyes wide and startled, but then turned his back and threw the stick again. Kimmik ran after it and galloped back, carrying it in his mouth with his head held high.
Chris trotted over to the boy. “Ryan, you can’t just be letting the dog out of the yard without asking.”
Ryan took the stick and threw it again. “He got out. Maybe he dug a hole.”
“I saw you open the gate.”
The kid raised his chin. “Well, he’s lonely. You don’t ever play with him.”
“I do, but you’re right, not as much as he’d like. Ryan, I don’t mind you playing with the dog, but you have to ask first. You can’t just take somebody else’s dog without permission.”
“If he was my dog, I’d take good care of him. I’d play with him and brush him and feed him.” He patted Kimmik on the head and threw the stick again. “You should take better care of your dog.”
Clever way to shift the blame. Chris smiled. “Technically, he’s not my dog. He belongs to my roommate, Sam. But I think we take pretty good care of him.”
“He’s not yours?” Ryan looked him in the eye for the first time.
“No. He’s Sam’s dog.”
“Is it your house?”
“Nope. Sam’s house, too. I just live there.” Chris rubbed Kimmik’s ears and took the stick, handing it to Ryan.
The boy threw the stick and turned to him. “So are you, like, a foster kid, too?”
Chris chuckled. “Not exactly. I pay rent and help with the chores, like taking care of the dog.”
“I do chores, too.”
“Good. That shows you’re responsible.”
“Ryan?” a man’s voice called from up the street.
The kid made a face. “Homework.” He made no move to answer, instead throwing the stick again.
Brent, a neighbor from up the street, walked toward them. “Ryan, it’s time to come inside.” He looked at Chris. “Sorry. Hope he wasn’t bothering you.”
“No, he just wanted to play with the dog.” Ryan shot Chris a look of alarm, but Chris patted him on the shoulder. “I told him he was welcome to play with Kimmik anytime, as long as he comes to ask first.”
“He loves dogs. He might drive you crazy.”
“Nah, he’s fine. I’ll let Sam and Dana know he might be stopping by.”
“Thanks.” Brent grasped Ryan by the shoulders and turned him around. “But right now, you need to go inside. Sandy wants to go over your spelling words with you while the baby’s napping.”
“But Kimmik wants to play.”
“Ryan, now.”
Ryan dropped his chin onto his chest with a mighty sigh, and trudged away.
Brent stayed with Chris. “Thanks for being nice to him.”
“No problem. I like him.”
“Do you?” Brent watched the boy. “He’s a handful. Sandy and I are fostering a baby girl we’re hoping to adopt. Ryan is new to foster care. His grandmother was looking after him, but she had to go to a nursing home. Sandy heard about him and couldn’t stand the idea of him not being with a family for Christmas, so she volunteered to keep him until January. Hopefully, they can find a long-term placement for him by then.”
Chris got the impression it wouldn’t have been Brent’s idea to take Ryan, but what did he know? Either way, they were taking care of him over Christmas, so kudos to Brent and Sandy. “Congratulations on the baby. And I meant what I said. Ryan is welcome to come play with Kimmik. He’s not dangerous.”
“I know. Labradors are great with kids.”
“Yeah. So give Sandy my best wishes, too. What’s the baby’s name?”
“April. She’s six months old.” Brent pulled out his phone and started pushing buttons. Chris had been around enough new fathers to know where this was going.
“Pretty name.”
“Thanks.” Brent held out his phone. “Here she is with Sandy on the day we brought her home.”
Chris dutifully studied the picture. The infant laughed toward the camera, her eyes opened wide and framed with dark curly lashes. “She’s gorgeous,” Chris assured him, truthfully in this case. Some of the babies he’d been forced to compliment looked, well...scary. “I’d better get Kimmik in. See you around.”
Chris put the dog in the yard and carefully latched the gate. Maybe he should have told Brent about Ryan letting Kimmik out, but it sounded like the kid had enough trouble in his life. Chris had a feeling he might be seeing a lot of Ryan over the next few weeks. Or at least, Kimmik would.
* * *
“SO, LAYLA, HAVE you been a good girl this year?” Chris smiled at the pigtailed imp in his lap. Wide brown eyes looked back at him solemnly.
“Nuh-uh.”
Well, he had to give her credit for honesty, even if it meant he wasn’t sure what to do next. “No?”
She shook her head. “I’m supposed to sit still and pay attention at school, but it’s too hard.”
“Huh. What grade are you in?”
“First grade.”
He nodded. “What’s your favorite subject?”
“P.E.”
“Oh yeah? Mine, too, when I was in school. I liked basketball.”
“You went to school?”
“Of course. School is important. If I hadn’t learned to read, I wouldn’t be able to read letters or make lists. I used to have a hard time sitting still, too.”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh. But I had a trick. I’d listen to what the teacher said, and