Rescuing Christmas: Holiday Haven / Home for Christmas / A Puppy for Will. Kathie DeNosky
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they were tucked inside her little blue Victorian house. He’d have to leave early if he found himself wanting to act on his feelings.
For now, though, he chose to make conversation and pretend that he could ignore the urge to kiss her.
“I really can teach you how to take good pictures,” he said. “It’s not that tricky.”
She glanced over at him. “I’m not sure I believe you. Some people are talented in one thing and some in another. I have an affinity for animals. You’re a genius with a camera.”
“Thanks for boosting my ego, but I’m no genius, Tansy. It’s a skill like any other. It can be learned.”
“I’m sure it can, but those who are gifted will always do a better job than those who aren’t. I know my limits.” She paused, her gaze tentative, her body language hesitant. “Maybe you would…no, that’s asking too much.” She looked away.
“You can’t leave me dangling like that. Tell me what you started to say.”
“Okay, but it’s fine if you say no. We’ll still be friends.”
“Tansy.”
“Would you consider volunteering to be our official photographer?”
His pulse leaped. Volunteering to take pictures for the shelter would mean he’d see her on a regular basis. His heart wanted to, but his brain said it was a bad idea. “It’s a thought.”
“Never mind. It would be an imposition. I’d offer to pay you, but as you know, money’s in short supply.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”
“But you didn’t jump at the idea, either. I’m sure it’s a lot to ask.”
It was, but not for the reason she thought. He was already becoming too attached to the shelter and to her. And that led only to pain. Yet refusing to help because he was conflicted about their relationship seemed petty, especially when he was fascinated by the kaleidoscope of cats arranging and rearranging themselves.
He’d had fun capturing the changing expressions on the faces of the dogs. But his photographer’s soul belonged to the cats. They were art in motion, a feline version of Cirque du Soleil. They begged to be photographed, and good pictures would go far to getting them new homes. Fortunately, it wouldn’t take any emotional involvement on his part. He was a professional; he knew how to keep his distance from his subjects.
He took a deep breath. “I’d be honored to be your official photographer.”
She turned to him, her eyes shining. “Oh, Ben, that’s so awesome. The cat trees are wonderful, and I would never want to discourage you from donating such things, but you have a skill that no one on our staff has. Eventually the pictures on the website and on Facebook will be dated as the animals are adopted. We need to give the newcomers their fifteen seconds of fame.”
“I’ll take care of that. But I’m still buying more cat trees when the new Kitty Condo goes up. These things are amazing.”
“And I’ll happily accept them. Oh, look! Casper’s stalking the others. Too cute.”
He’d noticed that she called each cat by name, and she’d done that with the dogs, too. “You have so many animals at The Haven. How do you remember who’s who?”
“That’s part of my talent, just like knowing how to frame a shot is part of yours.”
He nodded. “Point taken.” He continued to stand there, and the urge to cup the back of her head and taste her mouth became stronger. They needed to move on. “Anything else we should do?”
“Oh!” She turned to him. “I’m so sorry. I could stand here for hours watching the cats play, but you must be starving.”
“Hey, I understand. When I’m shooting something that fascinates me, a bomb could go off and I wouldn’t notice.” He’d had that reaction the morning of her TV appearance, but he decided not to mention it. He didn’t want to upset the delicate balance they’d achieved.
“Nevertheless, I promised to feed you, and it’s past time to honor that promise. Let’s go.”
He wasn’t about to argue with her. He’d eaten a quick lunch on the fly because he’d been buying cat trees, and food sounded great right now. Maybe a filling meal would curb his appetite for other things, things he shouldn’t be hungry for.
EVERY CHRISTMAS SEASON, Tansy anticipated that special moment when she felt the spirit of the holidays for the first time. As she and Ben walked through the parking lot toward the flagstone path connecting the administration building to her house, their breath fogged the air. They talked about the resilience of the cats who’d been taken from the hoarding situation, and the great photo ops that would be possible with so many fascinating subjects.
Fat snowflakes drifted down, sparkling in the white lights outlining the yellow Victorian and settling like bits of lace on Ben’s hat and coat. Tansy glanced over at her house, where she’d strung tiny multicolored LEDs along her porch railing and placed a small decorated tree on each side of her front door.
Both houses looked festive and ready to celebrate. The crisp scent of damp evergreens hung in the air. As a delicate snowflake landed on her cheek like a kiss, a rush of joy told her that once again, Christmas had arrived in her heart.
“It feels like Christmas,” she said.
Ben laughed. “Is that all it takes? A couple of cat trees?”
“No, I wasn’t thinking of the donation you made, which is wonderful. It’s the combination of the snow, And the Christmas lights….” And you walking beside me. But she wasn’t about to say that, so she improvised. “And how generous everyone has been to The Haven. All of a sudden the Christmas spirit hit me like an incoming snowball.”
“That’s great.” His tone was wistful. “I envy you.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Hey, it’s only the middle of December. You have lots of time to get in the mood.”
“Not everybody gets in the mood, you know.”
She hesitated. “You don’t?”
“No.”
“Not ever?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
She thought she should drop the subject because it seemed to be a touchy one, so she remained silent.
“The thing is…”
“Mmm?” She didn’t even want to use an actual word to prompt him, for fear he’d clam up completely. She sensed that whatever he’d started to say wasn’t something he mentioned to many people. Maybe not to anyone.
He sighed. “Never mind.”
He’d retreated. His behavior reminded her of animals who’d come from bad situations and were afraid to trust. She let the silence stretch between them and figured that was the end of his willingness to share something personal. Then, to her amazement, he spoke again.
“I think you have to have a store of good Christmas memories to draw on from when you’re young.” He cleared his throat. “That’s how I think you get the Christmas spirit, tapping into that.”
Her heart ached for him, but she kept her voice light. “I’ve never looked at it that way, but that could be true.” What had his childhood been like, that he had no happy memories of Christmas? More than anyone she knew, this man needed the unconditional love of an animal…or a person.
She