Wishing for Wonderful (Serendipity #3)(55)

Personally, I think Valentine’s Day deserves the same measure of love and happiness as Christmas, but The Boss thinks otherwise, so for now things are going to remain exactly as they are. He said Christmas was all about celebrating His Son’s birthday, and of course I came back with, “How about celebrating my birthday?”

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you willing to give your life to save the humans?”

I had to answer no, which pretty much ended the discussion.

~

Lindsay’s cast came off four days later, and although her right leg was thinner and weaker it was definitely cause for celebration. That evening she and Matthew again had dinner at Bistrot La Minette and even though the December night air had a nip to it, they strolled through the park afterward. They walked a short way then sat on a bench gazing at a white moon through the bare branches of trees. The snow flurries began a few moments later.

Lindsay dropped her head onto Matthew’s shoulder. “This is all so perfect,” she murmured, “being here with you, the restaurant, the snow…it’s as if God arranged this especially for us.”

She wasn’t too far from wrong.

~

Christmas morning Matthew arrived in time for breakfast. Just as John had promised, the side door to the garage was unlocked. Matthew carried the crate in, then returned to the car for the dog and the shopping bag filled with presents. He sat the bag on the floor and placed the dog in the crate.

“It won’t be long,” he whispered, “but you have to stay here and be quiet.”

The dog cocked its head to the right and whimpered.

“Shhhh. No noise.” He put his finger to his lips and repeated the shushing sound. For the past eight days he’d worked on teaching the dog not to bark when he walked away. Ever so slowly Matthew backed away from the cage, and the dog sat silently. He turned, walked out the door and listened for a few more seconds. Silence. Matthew gave a sigh of relief, then circled the house and rang the front doorbell.

Lindsay opened the door. She wore a Santa hat with a sprig of mistletoe pinned onto it.

“Merry Christmas,” she said and pointed to the mistletoe.

Matthew set his shopping bag down and kissed her. “You didn’t need the mistletoe,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know,” she whispered back, “but I figured it was a call to action.”

They were halfway through breakfast when Lindsay heard the yelp. “Was that a dog?”

Eleanor said nothing but gave Matthew a questioning look.

“What? I didn’t hear anything,” he said.

“Shhhh,” Lindsay said and listened for it to come again, but of course it didn’t.

“Must’ve been the wind,” John suggested.

“I guess,” Lindsay said and went back to the conversation they were having.

Minutes later she heard it again. “Anyone hear that?” she asked, but all three of them immediately shook their heads. Lindsay turned to Matthew. “Did you ever get any response on that poster I put up in the office?”

Before she’d finished the question, Matthew shoved a chunk of ham into his mouth and began chewing.

“Mumph.” He gave a gesture indicating he couldn’t talk with his mouth full.

Eleanor jumped in. “Goodness gracious, will you look at the time! I wonder what’s keeping Ray and Traci?” She followed the question with a lengthy oration on how much having the family together meant to her. Her voice was loud—much louder than normal.

“Are you okay?” Lindsay finally asked.

“Okay? Well, of course I’m okay. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Well, you’re talking awfully loud,” Lindsay said.

Fortunately Eleanor didn’t have to respond, because the doorbell chimed.

Beyond the noise of people wishing each other Merry Christmas, Eleanor heard it again: the dog. Matthew had said he could keep her quiet, but apparently the dog disagreed and Eleanor didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

“I think we could use a little Christmas music,” she said and slid a disc into the player. She cranked the volume up three notches.

“Isn’t that kind of loud?” Traci said.

When everyone began shouting to be heard above the strains of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, John ejected the disc.

“I think we can do without the music,” he said. Only after Eleanor glared across at him did he realize why she’d turned the music up so loud.

Seconds later they heard it again—a sharp high-pitched bark.

“Is that a dog?” Traci asked.

John, who by now had caught on, said, “Dog?”

“See, it is a dog,” Lindsay said, “Traci heard it too.” She turned to Traci. “You heard it right?”

By then the barking had stopped.

“I thought I heard a bark,” Traci said, “but now I’m not too sure.”

No one noticed Matthew slip back through the dining room and out the kitchen door. He came from the garage carrying a bundle of white fur, but before he got to the archway of the living room he set the dog down on the floor and pointed her toward the living room.

“Go find Lindsay,” he whispered, and off the dog went. Hopefully his plan would work.

Since Lindsay had been looking for this dog for over four months, you might wonder why she wouldn’t recognize it right away, but don’t forget, the dog has been bathed, clipped and groomed, so it looks different. The only part of the dog that looks exactly the same is the eyes. Eyes never change. Eyes tell the truth of a person, and it’s no different with dogs. Of course, Lindsay may find it difficult to catch sight of her dog’s eyes in the frenzy of running and tail wagging.