Chapter 5 #2
If it weren’t for the “goose being assaulted” sound of the squeaky toy rattling my nerves for the next few minutes as I keep Barry grinning for the camera, I might actually be smiling myself.
The thought makes me realize how long it’s been since I’ve felt like smiling for a sustained length of time.
It’s been a while
A long while.
I’m still trying to evaluate just how long when Holly declares the session a complete success. She shows the owner a few of the shots in the display window on the back of her camera, and “Dog Mom” bursts into fresh tears of pure happiness.
She’s so pleased, she throws her arms around me as I’m handing Barry his treat for a job well done.
“Thank you,” she sobs. “I’ll treasure these forever! Thank you so much.”
I give her back a stiff pat. “Of course. Have a…nice night.”
“And a Merry Christmas,” Holly Jo enthuses, appearing by my side to wave them off. Once they’re out of earshot, she asks in a softer voice, “How you holding up, Grumpy?”
“I hate the sound of that toy.”
She grins up at me. “But you loved Barry. And that hug Brenda gave you. I could tell you were really enjoying that.”
Lips twitching at the edges, I shake my head. “You’re not just diabolical. You’re sadistic.”
Her jaw drops in mock offense. “What? I am not! I take no pleasure in the pain of others.” Leaning closer, she whispers, “But your safe word, should you need it, is Tickly Bear.”
“It is not,” I say, losing the battle against the corners of my mouth.
“There it is!” She beams as she points to my lips. “There’s a smile! Wow.” She bites her bottom lip in a way that makes me long to do the same, her smile fading as she adds, “Yeah. That’s nice. You look good in a smile, Luke Ratcliffe.”
And you look very kissable, Holly Jo Hadley, I think.
The thought is enough to make me take a step back and banish the ridiculous grin from my face.
I’m not here for that.
That is not on the table.
Even if Holly Jo were interested in kissing a man with Seasonal Grouch Disorder—which she surely is not—I don’t engage in casual connections at this point in my life. I don’t pursue a woman romantically unless there’s long-term potential, and there is rarely long-term potential.
It certainly isn’t present here.
Holly is a bright, happy, optimistic, merry-making fixture of Silver Bell Falls. I’m a jaded, calculating, emotionally stunted businessman who can’t get back to the city fast enough.
So, I simply clear my throat, avoiding eye contact as I ask, “How long until the next client?”
“About ten minutes,” she says, the teasing vanished from her tone. “While we wait, I’ll see if I can find a toy with a less abrasive squeak.”
“Thank you,” I say formally. “I would appreciate that.”
The next hour is a parade of indignities for both me and the poor animals.
The Persian I dress in an elf costume is clearly not any happier to be here than I am, but she heroically resists the urge to claw my eyes out. I thank her for her restraint as I fetch cat chews from a smaller container behind the dog treats, sending her on her way just as our next client appears.
We welcome a shy corgi, a bulldog with a drooly grin, and several mutts, before another cat arrives, this one a tabby who appears to be on drugs.
His pupils are eerily enormous and entirely haunted. As I slide his elf hat into place, it feels like he’s staring into my soul—and finding it lacking.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
He lets out a long, low groan that seems to ask why he’s been cursed to suffer so.
“I know,” I agree. “It’s inhumane.”
He rests a paw on the back of my hand and groans again, a sound of such prolonged anguish, it makes me wince.
I’m about to suggest we refund his owner’s money and set the poor creature free when Holly sweeps him into her arms, whispering against his furry head, “Don’t be afraid, Tam Tam. I’ve got you, buddy. Just like last year. I’ve got you, and you’re going to be so handsome, just wait and see.”
She soothes the traumatized Tam Tam the way she’s soothed every animal before him, proving she’s more than an artist who excels at her craft. She’s some kind of pet-whisperer.
Or a witch.
I’m certainly falling under her spell.
No matter how hard I try to fight it…
“I saw you talking to Tam Tam while you were getting him dressed,” she says, once the cat and his owner have gone. “Good work. You kept him so much calmer than last year.”
I shake my head. “I did nothing. You’re the one with the magic.”
“It’s not magic,” she says. “It’s just love. And patience. Love and patience go a long way. Don’t you think?”
I’m about to confess that I honestly don’t know—I don’t think I’ve ever loved or “patienced” the way she does—when barking erupts nearby.
Holly and I turn to see a beagle straining on his leash not far from the gazebo, menacing a woman in a long purple coat with silver hair down to the middle of her back.
She shifts away, lifting her mittened hands slowly in surrender.
The beagle’s owner, a heavyset man with a beard, seems to be apologizing profusely, but it’s hard to hear over the frantic barking, and he’s clearly struggling to maintain his grip on the dog’s leash.
I’m about to head over to intervene when something small and brown leaps from the woman’s shoulder.
For a moment, my brain tries to convince me that her ear decided to detach itself from her body and flee into the snow.
But that isn’t an ear.
That’s a—
“A chipmunk?” I ask.
Before Holly can answer, the creature changes course, darting straight for us, moving with astonishing speed. There isn’t time to shift out of the way before it’s on me, its tiny claws shockingly sharp as it scrambles up my pants.
I expel a strangled sound of surprise as my hands fly into the air.
The rodent takes advantage of my newly emptied pockets to dive into the one on my right side, squirming deep. Soon, he’s coiled in the base like a doomsday prepper taking refuge in a bunker, and my pulse is pounding hard enough to feel it leaping at the base of my throat.
I stand frozen for a long, dizzying moment before reality fully sets in.
When it does, I glance down at Holly. “There’s a chipmunk in my coat.”
“There sure is,” she says, a startled laugh bursting from her lips.
“It’s not funny,” I insist.
“It’s kind of funny.”
“It could have rabies!”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s still giggling when she says, “It doesn’t have rabies.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” She motions to our right, where the woman in the purple coat is drifting our way.
“That’s Cheeks. Well, Thelonius P. Cheeks but Cheeks for short.
He belongs to Willow. She keeps him up to date on all his shots.
” She lifts a hand in welcome. “Hey, Will. Don’t worry, we’ve got him. He’s safe.”
Willow’s violet eyes seem to glow in her almost irritatingly serene face as she nods. “Of course he is. He always knows where he’s safe. And where he’s needed most. He’s very wise.”
“He was very afraid,” I counter as the chipmunk continues to tremble in my pocket. “He’s still afraid.”
“Fear and wisdom are friends, not enemies,” Willow says, nodding toward my still-raised hands. “It’s all right. You can comfort him. He won’t bite.”
I don’t want to comfort him.
I want this woo-woo woman to collect her frightened animal and do the comforting herself. But it’s my pocket, and I don’t really want a stranger reaching in there, either.
Exhaling a long breath, I lower my arms. Then, moving slowly, carefully, I reach into my pocket, my fingers brushing against the tiny, trembling body. The chipmunk emits a terrified noise that makes my chest ache.
Goddammit.
“It’s all right,” I murmur to my pocket, stroking him gently. “You’re okay.”
Holly hums in agreement. “You sure are, Cheeks. You’re okay. Luke will keep you safe.”
“No bad dogs allowed over here,” I add, pulling my hand from my pocket and cupping it in silent invitation. “We don’t take appointments with bad dogs.”
“And we’re done for the night,” Holly coos. “So, come on out, buddy. There! There you are.”
The tiny chipmunk emerges from my coat, crawling into my hand before turning to gaze up at me with shining black eyes.
The trust in them is…staggering.
I’m humbled by it, even before he curls into a ball, using the heel of my palm as his pillow, seeming content to stay right where he is. Seeming to trust that I’ll keep him safe.
“See? A celestial match made in the heavens.” Willow presses her hands together and bows her head. “Bring him home when your work together is done. Holly knows where I live.” Before I can reply, she’s gone, merging back into the flow of the festival, leaving me with her pet.
I shake my head, outrage and a strange sense of peace warring inside me. “What the hell just happened?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Holly says, a soft smile on her face as she adds, “You found your magic.”
I want to insist again that she’s wrong.
That I’m not the kind of person who has “magic.” That I’m nothing like her. I’m practically a different species, for God’s sake.
But with this tiny furry thing curled up in my palm…
I suddenly don’t…
Well, I don’t know if that’s the absolute truth, and I’m not a liar. I have many faults, but that isn’t one of them.
So, I simply grunt. Sigh. Then roll my eyes as I ask, “So I’m just supposed to…babysit it? Until it’s ready to leave?”
She nods. “Yep.”
“Does it eat nuts?”
“It sure does,” she says, sounding almost…proud. “And he likes strawberries, too, if you have any of those.”
I nod. “We do. We have both.”
“Great, then sounds like you’re all set.
” She loops her arm through my free one, tugging me out of the shelter.
“Come on, it’s almost time for the tree-lighting ceremony.
We can pack up after.” She tips her head back, smiling up at the stars.
“Right now, I just want to get some cocoa and enjoy the smell of snow in the air.”
So…we do.
And strangely, the moment when the mayor flicks the switch—lighting up the rest of the lights on the tree—is more pleasant than expected. Even the spotlight illuminating the peg leg, proudly perched on top like a treasure, not an eyesore, can’t ruin the moment.
The analytical place in my brain, the part that’s been running a cost-benefit analysis on every aspect of life since I wasn’t much more than a child, goes silent. I glance over at Holly, her face lit by the tree’s glow, and realize the silence has a source.
It’s her.
I suspect I’m in trouble, far more serious trouble than anything I would have encountered from the sheriff’s department.