Home for Christmas by Laura Strickland

This story was inspired by a difficult decision with which my family has been faced, this holiday season…

Jim stared in disbelief at the Christmas card in his hands. He hadn’t received a lot of cards these past years. In fact, the little white postal truck rarely came up the long track to the farm any more. Neither did many visitors. He supposed folks in town must consider him a right hermit, since Jenny died.

Now, the scene on the card blurred before his eyes—a tall, wooden house not unlike the one he occupied, with billows of snow all around and a dog standing out front. A retriever wearing a Santa hat.

A dog, by God.

Inside the card, a message had been written, crowding out the printed greeting, in a hand he recognized. Emotion rose to his throat as he began to read.

Daddy, I’m sure you’ll be surprised to get this. I know we didn’t part on the best terms. And I know I didn’t stay in touch the way I should have. That’s my fault, I guess. But that was a dark time for me.

I suppose you’re still mad. I shouldn’t have said the things I said, called you the things I did. You’re not a cruel man, or a monster, just like I’m not a selfish brat. We both said things that would have made Mom ashamed.

The thing is, Daddy, I want to come home for Christmas…

Jim stopped reading when the tears in his eyes made it impossible to see. Daddy, she called him Daddy, a name he’d never hoped to hear again. Brenda, his little girl, once the light of his life. Five years, it had been since the day they’d argued, and she’d slammed out of this house vowing never to return.

“You murdered my dog!” Suddenly Brenda’s words filled his mind, those she’d bawled at him between sobs, that last day. “You waited till I wasn’t here, and you killed her.”

“I didn’t kill her, Brenda, child. I took her to the vet’s office and did what had to be done. The dog was suffering. You don’t prolong suffering for someone you love.”

They’d stared into one another’s eyes and Jim had been able to read Brenda’s thoughts: You let Mom suffer. And he had, God yes, he had. He would have done anything he could to keep her with him one more day, including trade his own soul. A man learned, sometimes the hard way. But he learned.

He’d looked into the collie, Bran’s, eyes and seen Jenny’s pain. And he’d done what he’d done out of love. Coming so soon after Jenny’s death, though, the loss had gone hard for Brenda. He hadn’t expected her ever to forgive him.

She wanted to come home for Christmas.

Jim sucked in a breath that hurt. He caressed the card with gnarled fingers, rubbed the places where her pen had formed the letters, and spoke to the woman who, though dead, had never left his heart.

“By heaven, Jenny, it’s a miracle. Did you have something to do with this?”

No answer came from the air around him, though he fancied a bit of warmth brushed his cheek.

But why now? Oh yes, he knew that all hearts longed to come home at Christmas. But Brenda’s heart, like his, had been so battered he could no longer guess what she felt. What if something was wrong? What if Brenda needed to come tell him she, too, had fallen ill? He couldn’t bear losing her a second time.

A rap at the front door had him setting the card aside and scrambling to his feet. Who could that be so late on a winter’s afternoon?

The front hall felt cold, and lay steeped in gloom. When he swung the door open, light rushed in, along with a leaping, panting bundle of fur.

The dog hit Jim in the center of the chest and almost knocked him over. Large paws reached for his shoulders and a wet tongue landed a generous and quite sloppy kiss on his cheek. He heard a laugh he recognized every bit as well as the handwriting on the card.

Brenda, here. Now. Oh, by heaven!

The golden retriever collapsed at Jim’s feet and rolled over for a belly rub.

“She’s shameless,” Brenda said, and just like that day five years ago, they gazed into one another’s eyes.

She has Jenny’s eyes, Jim thought, full of warmth and kindness.

He began to babble, “I just got your card today. I didn’t expect—”

“I know.” Brenda looked sheepish. “I was afraid if I mailed it too soon, you’d find some reason I shouldn’t come.”

“I’d never do that,” Jim said hoarsely. “Never. Listen to me, Brenda, about Bran. You were right. I should have waited so you could be there, so you could speak a proper good-bye.”

Brenda smiled sadly. “No, Daddy, you were right—I’d let her suffer too long. It’s just that I’d already lost Mom. And then I went and lost you, too.”

She stepped over the dog and threw herself into his arms. He closed them around her tight. Welcome home.

Brenda said, “I hope you don’t mind I’ve brought a guest. You see, our quarrel—that last, awful argument—sent me down a very special road. Now I run a rescue, mostly for senior dogs. We’re well-staffed this holiday, so I could get away. Daddy,” she backed up to look at him, “I’ve helped a lot of dogs since I left home. But this one,” she gestured at the golden retriever, “she’s really special and I wanted you to meet her. In fact, I think it’s she who’s brought me.”

Jim found himself laughing for the first time in ready memory. He bent and patted the retriever’s furry chest. “What’s her name?”

“Jenny.” Brenda choked with emotion. “Her name’s Jenny.”

“Well,” Jim smiled, “that’s a pretty fine name. And I have to say, I’m glad you’ve both come home for Christmas.”

Laura Strickland’s web site: http://www.laurastricklandbooks.com