Silver Bells. Mary Burton
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later, Alice stopped in front of a dark SUV. He whirled around at the furious sound of a dog barking. Alice stopped, a horrible look on her face. “That’s Churchill, the dog. Ben got him before he left for Iraq. He said we needed protection because we couldn’t afford an alarm system.” Hank thought she sounded like she would have gone into debt for the alarm versus the dog. “I think it might be a little crowded, but you’ll be in the front seat. The dog sheds. And he poops everywhere. The twins step in it. He pees, too. I can never seem to catch him at the right time to let him out. He’s a good dog, great with the boys. The lights are still up from last Christmas. Ben never got a chance to take them down before he had to return to Iraq. I have to get a Christmas tree. Ben wants me to send him a picture. Like I don’t have enough to do without going out to get a Christmas tree. I wasn’t going to get one. The boys are too little to know what a Christmas tree is.”
“Uh-huh. Give me the keys, Alice, I’ll drive and you can relax.”
“Relax! That word is not in my vocabulary. The last time I relaxed was on my honeymoon, and even then I’m not sure I relaxed. It was stressful.”
Hank decided he wouldn’t touch that statement with a ten-foot pole. No sireee, not even with a twenty-foot pole. He offered to help strap the twins into the car seats, but Churchill had other ideas and growled at him. He slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. He hoped the heat would kick in. He was freezing.
The dog barked, and the twins howled and yowled as Alice walked around to the driver’s side of the car and opened the door. She looked Hank square in the eye and said, “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s all yours! The key to the house is the big key on the ring. You can get the damn Christmas tree, and you can decorate the house and you can clean up the poop and the pee and you can cook and clean and do the laundry and rake and take care of the yard. And you can tell your brother for me that I wish he had left me standing at the altar. There isn’t much food in the house, so you’ll have to go shopping, and let me tell you, that’s an experience from hell. Good luck. The boys get a bath at seven. That’s another experience that is right up there with hell. See ya!”
Churchill leaped over the seat to land in the front next to Hank. He threw his head back and howled, an ungodly sound that made the hair on the back of Hank’s neck stand on end.
She was walking away! Actually walking away! “Hey!” he bellowed. “Where are you going? Come back here, Alice!” Obviously, she hadn’t heard him because she kept right on walking. Must be the wool hat over her ears. He jammed the car in reverse and barreled down the aisle, coming to a stop next to her. He pushed a button and the passenger-side front window rolled down. “C’mon, Alice, you can’t leave me with these kids and this dog. I know you didn’t mean that; you’re just venting, and I can understand how hard it’s been. Get in the car. Please,” he added as an afterthought. The twins had started to howl again the moment the SUV ground to a stop. Churchill leaped in the back and started to lick at the twins’ faces. “Stop that,” he shouted, to be heard over the din.
Alice was on the move again. He inched the SUV along to keep up with her. “Where are you going?”
“To get a manicure, a massage, and a pedicure. Then I’m going someplace where I can sleep for a week and get room service. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.” She tossed her cell phone in the car window. Churchill leaped over the seat again and grabbed it before returning to the back. He started to chew on it. It chirped in protest. A moment later Alice ran between the rows of parked cars and was lost to him.
Hank sat for a full minute, the reality of his situation hitting him full on. Alice was gone. She’d meant what she said. He was stranded with year-old twins and a hundred-pound golden retriever that pooped and peed all over the place and chewed up cell phones, and there was no Christmas tree or food in the house. “Shit!” he said succinctly.
“Ben,” he muttered under his breath, “when I see you again I’m going to kick your ass all the way to the Canadian border.” He knew he’d do no such thing; he was just venting the way Alice had vented. He loved Ben even though he’d never understood why he’d wanted a military career. Major Benjamin Anders. It sounded so professional. When he got back from Iraq, he would be Colonel Benjamin Anders. Hank felt his chest puff out with pride at his little brother. Little brother because Ben was two whole minutes younger than his older brother.
As he tooled along Route 30, his mind raced. He knew squat about taking over a household. He lived in a town house, had a housekeeper, and never worried about grocery shopping. Hell, he didn’t even know what to buy. And, he wasn’t much in the kitchen department either, which meant he could boil an egg and that was it. And he could make coffee. He was a bachelor, for crying out loud. Now, in the blink of an eye he was suddenly a stand-in dad, a dog watcher, a chauffeur, a grocery shopper, and a cook. There was something definitely wrong with this picture.
Maybe he could get some help. The kind that lived in and did all those things. He could afford it. Or, he could send the bill to Ben. No, skip that idea. Not even majors make enough to pay for that.
Forty minutes later, Hank slowed for the red light on the corner. In five minutes he would be driving through the center of town. As always, he took a moment to savor the small-town warmth of Apple Valley. He cruised past the town square, noted the sleigh, the eight huge reindeer, and all the other Christmas decorations. Glorious wreaths with huge red bows were on all the sparkling white doors of the town’s official buildings. The square was where the midnight candlelight Christmas was held. The whole town turned out. Kids in pajamas all bundled up, even dogs attended, with antlers on their heads and colorful green and white collars for the season. He loved Apple Valley and the people he’d grown up with. Right now, though, this very second, he hated it.
Churchill started to bark the moment Hank turned off Apple Valley Road, the main thoroughfare in town, onto Clemens Ferry Road, where his brother and he had been born and grew up. The old homestead. He blinked at the commotion going on at the house next to his old home. A fire engine, an ambulance, and the sheriff’s car. Something must have happened to Albert Carpenter. Ben had just mentioned Albert in his last e-mail, saying he would be ninety-three the day after Christmas. He wanted Hank to invite him for Christmas dinner and make sure he got some presents. Albert Carpenter had been a substitute grandfather to both boys when they were growing up.
Hank felt a lump the size of a golf ball form in his throat. For years, Ben and the other neighbors had looked after Albert because there was no one else to do it. In fact, a few years ago, Ben had given him a puppy, a little white lapdog that Albert carried around. Ben said it added years to the old gentleman’s life. He couldn’t help but wonder if Alice had taken on caring for Albert along with her other duties. More than likely.
Hank pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine, and debated his next move. Churchill watched him with keen intensity. Would the dog bolt? How was he supposed to get two kids into the house at the same time? One under each arm. That had to mean the dog would bolt. Maybe. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the ambulance pull away. Out of the corner of his other eye he saw a white ball of fur streaking toward Alice’s SUV. Churchill let out a high-pitched bark of pure happiness. Albert’s dog. Who was going to take care of her? He knew it was a her because he remembered Ben saying Albert named the little dog after his wife, Sadie. Officially known as Miss Sadie.
Hank opened the door so he could get out without letting the big dog out of the car. He had to find a leash or something. Like that was going to happen. He looked around in a daze, the white fur ball yapping and yipping at his feet. Churchill continued to bark, growl, and howl at what was going on. The twins woke up and started to cry. “Oh, shit!” Maybe if he opened the door to the house, dragged the dog in, and shut the door he could do it that way. He’d have to come back for the kids. He was on his way to the door when he saw the fire engine and the sheriff’s car leaving the neighborhood. That was when he saw the Range Rover in the Leigh driveway. The house must have been sold. He felt sad at the thought. Ben hung a Christmas wreath on the front door every Christmas even though the house was empty. First Albert, then the Leigh house. No, first Alice’s fit. A trifecta of misery. Flo must have finally sold the house. He wondered why—it