Page 20 of The Christmas Keepsake
“Woman,” he repeated. “Nan, I just wanted to make sure Mickey was a gentleman. If he were to hurt you, in any way, it’d be my fault because I was too much of a coward to ask you out.”
I stared at him, weighing whether I was supposed to be angry or appreciative. “You’re lucky I didn’t have a good time on my date with Mickey anyway.” I looked at Ralph stubbornly, folding my arms over my chest. “Probably because you were there, and I would have rather been eating with you than listening to Mickey drone on about how wonderful he and his family are.”
“Is that a yes?” Ralph asked, a subtle lilt to his tone of voice.
The hope in Ralph’s eyes was adorable. I remember looking at him and thinking,I’m in trouble. I’m halfway to falling for this guy and we haven’t even gone on a real date yet. I also felt this thread of fear zip from my head to my toes. Falling for Ralph could ruin my Broadway dreams.
It might sound foolish, but I felt like my future hinged on my answer to Ralph’s question. Isn’t that how life is?One moment, one decision, can change the course of everything.
“One condition.” I pointed my finger at him. “We’re just having fun. Nothing more.”
“Just having fun.” He nodded.
“You have to promise, Ralph.”
I knew he was a man of his word. “I promise to be a stand-up guy who will treat you the way you deserve. And I’ll never force you to feel any way about me that you’re not comfortable with. And… I’ll keep the way I feel about you to myself.”
It wasn’t the promise I was looking for, but it was enough for me. “Okay, then. Yes, I’ll go out with you.”
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?”
