Pulling on her coat and boots, she went outside to shovel the walks and the driveway. The snow was deep, but not heavy, and the hard physical work felt good. The snow was still falling. By the time Tracy finished shoveling, the areas she’d cleared first were already coated with white.
When she rolled up Murphy’s bed and carried it out to the trash, the familiar scent of his tired old body brought tears to her eyes. But she forced herself to keep moving until the job was done. The woodpile was by the kitchen door, sheltered from snow by the overhang of the roof. She gathered logs and kindling and carried them inside to make a fire in the fireplace. Clara would enjoy its cheery warmth.
After rounding up the kittens and luring them back into the laundry room with food, she laid the fire with wood and crumpled newspaper. The logs were just beginning to burn when the front doorbell rang. Tracy hurried to answer it.
Rush and Clara stood on the threshold, snowflakes glistening on their coats and hair. Rush was carrying a wreath of fresh pine boughs. “We brought you a present,” Clara said.
“You’re supposed to hang it on the outside of your door,” Rush added. “But we thought maybe you’d rather hang it inside, for the smell. I brought a hanger. It goes over the top of the door.”
“Come on in.” Tracy stepped aside for them to enter. A chilly breeze blew in behind them. The glorious fragrance of fresh-cut pine flooded the room. Tracy inhaled, deeply. “Oh, my, it smells like Christmas!”
Rush took the hanger out of his coat pocket. It was designed with a bent metal piece, flat and thin enough to fit over the top of a door, with a longer hook at the bottom for a wreath.
“Inside or outside, up to you,” Rush said.
“Oh, inside. Definitely inside.”
While Rush hung the wreath on the door, Clara wandered over to the fireplace and stood looking down at the empty spot where Murphy’s bed had been. Sad-eyed, she turned back to Tracy. “Daddy told me that Murphy went to heaven,” she said. “I’m sorry, Tracy. I bet your husband was happy to see him.”
“I’m sure they were happy to see . . . each other.” Tracy’s voice stumbled over the last words.
“Are you sad?” Clara asked.
“Yes, I am,” Tracy said. “But I’ll get better. That’s why I invited you to come, to help me get better.”
“I’ll try. Where are the kittens?”
“In the laundry room. You can let them out. They’ve been needing somebody like you to play with them.”
Clara scampered down the hall to open the laundry room door. Rush had finished hanging the wreath. Its fragrance scented the air, spreading through the room. Tracy walked over to the door where he stood. “Thank you,” she said. “For the first time in two years, that wonderful aroma makes me feel like it’s Christmas.” And so do you.
“Well, you said you didn’t want a tree. But I didn’t think you’d mind a nice wreath—at least for the fragrance. It’s a Christmas thing.”
“Can you stay?”
He shook his head. “If I’m one minute late getting back to the ranch, Conner will have my head. It’s crazy time at Christmas Tree Ranch. Thanks again for taking Clara.”
“She’ll be good for me.”
“And you’re good for me.”
She was looking up at him when he bent, caught her waist, and kissed her. The kiss, meant to be a quick good-bye peck, lingered, deepened, went on and on as their hungry lips clung.
“Oh, wow!”
They broke apart. Clara stood at the entrance to the hallway, a kitten cradled in each arm. “Does this mean you’re
getting married?” she asked.
Rush laughed. “Right now, all it means is that we really, really like each other. Get used to it.”
With that, he was out the door and gone.
Hot-faced, Tracy turned back to Clara. The little girl was grinning. “I’d like it if you married my dad,” she said. “Then you could be my mom.”
“You already have a mom, Clara,” Tracy said.
“I have two dads. I could have two moms.”