Chapter Six
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
—Samuel Beckett
Buster eyed Hollis suspiciously. The older dog was beginning to show signs that he understood that if he did what Hollis wanted him to, he would get a treat.
So far, Hollis had worked with Buster on walking on a leash just around the path of the Christmas tree farm.
When some of the employees came around after hours, Hollis encouraged Buster to look at him.
It was important for a dog not to fixate on other people or dogs.
Or a stray cat. Hollis was the alpha in his little pack, and that was the primary lesson Buster needed to learn.
Over the last few evenings, Hollis had been working on teaching Buster to sit and stay.
“Sit,” Hollis said with a steady tone, pleased when Buster immediately lowered onto his back legs. Then Hollis held up a treat with one hand.
Buster started to return to all fours, but Hollis redirected him. “Sit!”
Buster returned to his seat position, his eyes trained.
“Good boy,” Hollis said with a hopeful heart. He held up the treat again and then lifted his opposite hand back to show his open palm. “Wait,” he commanded.
Buster licked his lips but didn’t budge this time.
The first few nights of trying this simple command, Buster had turned himself in circles and whimpered.
He had wanted that treat so badly. Hollis guessed that Buster had rarely been given a treat, and the anticipation of devouring it was just enough to keep Buster from running into a corner to hide.
Hollis allowed about thirty seconds to pass before changing his tone of voice from calm and quiet to a higher pitch full of praise. He knelt and offered the treat. “Good boy.”
Buster’s brown eyes grew impossibly wider.
“Here you go.” Hollis crouched down, making himself smaller as he continued to hold his palm out patiently.
Patience was key, especially with a dog who’d been abused.
After another thirty seconds, Buster slowly crept forward, eyes pinned on Hollis, and lapped his tongue across Hollis’s palm and then nabbed the treat between his teeth.
“You’re a good boy,” Hollis said, lifting a slow hand to pet Buster’s head.
“You are a good dog,” he said again, his eyes burning as he remembered how much he’d wanted someone to say that to him when he was a foster kid.
No one ever called him “a good boy.” And when Hollis didn’t get the positive attention he craved, he sought attention in the only other way he could get it.
By acting out, running his mouth, destroying property, and even pocketing things that didn’t belong to him.
Back then, he wasn’t even aware of the reasons behind his actions.
All he knew was that he had a crater-size void in his heart that couldn’t be filled no matter how hard he tried.
He missed the father he never had. He missed the mother who was never going to nurture and love him the way he needed to be.
Returning to a standing position, Hollis decided this was enough training for one night.
He still needed to attend to Duke and take him for their nightly walk along the rows of Christmas trees.
One day, Buster would feel confident enough to join them, but not yet.
All things worth achieving took time, and Buster was worth it.
A little time and a little love could fix just about any dog.
Hollis wholly believed that, and he couldn’t wait to open his training facility to prove it.
The next day, Hollis breathed in the clean scent of lemon and bleach as he strode down the familiar hallway of Memory Oaks.
Pop’s eyes lit up with recognition as Hollis entered the room. “Hollis, my boy!” Pop’s weathered face broke into a wide grin. “Come in, come in!”
Hollis walked over and then dipped to hug his grandfather, feeling the familiar mix of joy and sadness that always accompanied these visits.
Pop’s memory was fading in the way that seasons faded, steady with momentary swings in either direction.
But Pop’s love for Hollis remained as strong as ever. At least to this point.
Hollis settled into the chair beside the bed. “How are you, Pop?”
Pop waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m fine, fine. Tell me about my trees. Is the farm getting good business?”
“The trees are perfect, Pop. We have our usual seasonal staff, and I’m overseeing a few kids from the boys home too.”
Pop patted Hollis’s hand. “I knew the farm would be in good hands with you managing it. You’ve always had a way with those trees, just like your father.”
Hollis felt a lump form in his throat. Pop had started treating Hollis like his own flesh and blood from the first day Hollis went to stay with Matt and Sandy.
Because of Hollis’s age, Matt and Sandy never legally adopted him, but legality had never mattered to Hollis.
Families were built on love and proven over time.
“Thanks, Pop,” he managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. “Learned from the best.”
As they chatted about the farm and Christmases past, a commotion erupted in the hallway. Hollis tuned in to the familiar voice full of distress.
“No! I don’t want it! Take it away!” Nan yelled from her room down the hall.
Hollis’s heart took a steep dive into the pit of his stomach. Hollis knew the staff had planned to bring the Christmas tree to Nan’s room today. They had promised to give Nan plenty of warning, but considering how early it was in the day, Hollis didn’t think that had happened.
“What’s all that about?” Pop said, squinting, as if that would make him hear any better.
“Not sure, but I’ll go check. Be right back.” Hollis squeezed his grandfather’s hand before getting up and hurrying into the hallway.
The scene that greeted him made his chest tighten. Nan was backed against the wall, trembling with wide eyes as two staff members tried to maneuver a small Christmas tree into her room.
“Hey, guys. What’s going on?” Hollis asked, keeping his voice calm as he approached.
One of the staff members turned to him with flushed cheeks and pursed lips. “We’re just trying to set up Mrs. Nan’s Christmas tree, like we were told.”
Hollis positioned himself between Nan and the tree. “Nan,” he said softly, “it’s okay. You don’t have to have the tree in your room if you don’t want it.”
As he turned to look at her, Nan’s eyes focused on him, and a flicker of recognition crossed her expression. “Hollis?”
He offered a reassuring smile. “It’s me. Everything’s okay.”
Turning to the staff, he said, “Could you please take the tree away? Nan doesn’t want it in her room.”
The staff members exchanged glances.
“But we were instructed—”
“I’ll talk to Francis. It’s okay,” he said. “Take the tree to Pop’s room instead. He’ll love it.”
After a moment of hesitation, the staff wheeled the tree away. Then Hollis gently guided Nan back to her recliner in the corner of her room. He pulled up a stool to sit in front of her. “Not a fan of trees these days, huh?”
Nan wrung her weathered hands in her lap. “I’ve never liked a tree. They belong outside, don’t they?”
Hollis looked down momentarily. Nan had loved a Christmas tree.
She’d forgotten that, but yet, she’d looked at him a moment ago and remembered his name.
She was still here, just a little harder to reach at times.
“It’s almost Christmastime. It’s kind of a tradition to put up trees and decorate them. ”
She studied his face thoughtfully. “Oh. Is that what those people were doing?” She suddenly looked worried. “Were they doing something nice for me?”
Hollis laid a hand on her lap. “It’s okay. Now they’re doing something nice for Pop.”
As Nan settled back into her favorite chair, an idea began to form in Hollis’s mind.
If Nan couldn’t have a tree in her room, why not create a communal tree that all the residents could enjoy?
Sure, there was a tiny artificial tree in the lobby but it wasn’t placed where residents could enjoy it daily or even add their own ornaments.
“Nan, what would you think about having a big Christmas tree in the community room? One that everyone could decorate together?”
Nan’s eyes lit up. “Like the one in the town square?”
Hollis grinned at another memory from Nan. “Exactly like that.”
“That sounds lovely.”
Hollis nodded. “It does. And I think I’ll make it happen. Don’t you worry.”
He didn’t want Mallory to worry either. He wanted to make this new plan happen before Mallory was privy to any of this morning’s events.
After making sure Nan was comfortable, Hollis headed back to Pop’s room, his mind racing with plans.
He’d bring the biggest, most beautiful tree from the farm and set it up in the community room.
He knew Mallory had a box of Nan’s special ornaments, each one telling a story of Nan’s life.
If the tree was big enough though, each resident at Memory Oaks could hang their own memory ornaments, creating a shared celebration of life.
As he explained the plan to Pop, his grandfather nodded enthusiastically. “Why didn’t we think of this a long time ago? The biggest tree should come here to serve as the biggest field of memories.” Pop gave a thoughtful look. “Was that a movie title?”
“Field of Dreams,” Hollis said with a low chuckle. “Close enough. So, I have your blessing to donate a tree?”
Pop frowned. “What kind of question is that? Of course you do. You’re running the tree farm now.
I trust your decisions.” Pop leaned forward and patted a hand on Hollis’s shoulder.
“I trust you,” he said with his signature wink.
It was the same wink that Hollis had been imitating for the past decade.
Hollis said goodbye to Pop and headed back to the farm, debating whether to call Mallory. She didn’t need the extra stress, he decided, remembering his conversation with Nan last Christmas.
“Look out for her? Be there for her, even if she insists that she’s okay.”
Mallory didn’t know about this conversation, of course, and Hollis intended to keep it that way.
As Hollis headed out, he stopped by the front desk to talk to Francis.
“Did Nan’s tree go up okay?” she asked.
“Not really. We put it in Pop’s room instead.” He leaned against the counter and cleared his throat. “I, uh, have another request.”
Francis raised her brows. “Well, I do owe you for all of your help over the years. What do you need?”
“I want to put up a tree in the community room. I want to put up the biggest tree on Pop’s lot.”
“That would take so much effort,” Francis said. “It would need to be trimmed. Decorated. Cared for. There’s a lot of upkeep with live trees. That’s why we always stick to artificial.”
“I’ll handle it all. Mallory wants to put up some of Nan’s ornaments. They’re special to her.” He rubbed his beard absently. “But, seeing that we’re going to put up the biggest tree on the lot, I was thinking we might invite everyone here to add their own ornaments.”
Francis smiled quietly. “Typically, I would need to check with the fire marshal first, but it just so happens he gave me permission the other day when he was here. His great aunt is a resident and had inquired about a live tree. I think it’s a great idea.”
Hollis had hoped she’d think so. “Perfect. Then I’ll go back to the farm and return with the biggest tree I can find.”
“You’re a regular Santa Claus,” Francis teased, to which Hollis belted a ho-ho-ho on his way out of Memory Oaks, stepping into the biting cold of early December. As he drove, he called the farm and instructed the small team of employees to select and deliver the perfect tree to Memory Oaks.
Hopefully, Mallory would approve and see his actions as supportive rather than overstepping.
By the time evening fell, the massive tree stood proudly in the Memory Oaks community room.
Hollis had personally overseen its installation.
The staff had rallied around the idea, gathering lights and garlands, and the recreational therapist, Linda, had already planned a day for the residents to create their own memory ornaments to place on the tree.
As Hollis stood back, admiring the tree, a sense of accomplishment washed over him.
He glanced at the clock. Mallory should be off-shift and arriving soon.
Hollis would love to stick around and see her, but he needed to get home to his dogs.
Whenever he had a new dog, especially one who’d been through trauma, he tried not to leave them alone too long.
Building a bond was important if he wanted to turn Buster’s life around.
Plus some part of him didn’t want to be here when Mallory arrived.
This tree was big, and his efforts were even bigger.
This was a grand gesture on his part that Mallory might misinterpret—or actually, a gesture she might interpret correctly.
He’d gone above and beyond, and not just because they were friends and she’d asked him to get Nan a tree.
This was the action of a friend who thought of her as more.
That’s why Hollis had asked Francis to leave his name out of the situation.
Technically, Pop had provided the community room tree, not Hollis—and that might somehow be more palatable because Nan was right when she’d called Mallory stubborn.
Mal prided herself on being self-reliant.
Independent. Maybe that was why he’d always been drawn to her. One reason, at least.