Page 25 of The Christmas Keepsake
For a moment, Buster just stood there, looking up at Hollis for direction.
“Go on, boy,” Hollis encouraged softly, gesturing slowly. “You’re free.”
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Buster took off, bounding through the trees with unbridled joy.
Hollis’s heart dropped momentarily as Buster disappeared among the trees. Hollis resisted the need to call him back or run after him. He inhaled deeply and stayed rooted for a few minutes. Hollis let out a laugh as Buster reappeared, darting among the trees, disappearing and reappearing like a furry phantom.
Hollis’s mind drifted back to his own youth. He remembered sneaking onto this very farm as a troubled teenager, long before Matt and Sandy had taken him in. The farm had been his sanctuary, a place where he could escape the chaos of his various foster homes.
He’d come here to smoke cigarettes pilfered from foster parents’ packs or to sip beers stolen from forgotten corners of refrigerators. But more than that, he’d come for the peace. The scent of pine, the whisper of wind through the branches, the solid presence of the trees themselves—it had all worked to calm his restless spirit.
Hollis recalled the times Pop had caught him trespassing. But instead of calling the authorities, the old man had welcomed him, offering hot chocolate and a listening ear. It was Pop who had eventually introduced him to Matt and Sandy, setting in motion the events that would change Hollis’s life forever.
Hollis couldn’t help but laugh at Buster’s infectious enthusiasm. Then he lifted two fingers to his lips and whistled.
Buster had slipped out of view, and Hollis no longer saw him. Uh-oh.
“Buster!” he called, his voice echoing through the trees. No response.
Hollis whistled again, the sound piercing the winter stillness. He held his breath, straining to hear any sign of the dog. Seconds tickedby, each one increasing Hollis’s worry. Had he misjudged their bond? Had Buster seized the opportunity for freedom and run away?
Just as panic began to set in, Hollis heard it—the faint sound of paws pounding against packed snow as Buster came barreling into view. The dog’s ears were flying behind him, his mouth open in what could only be described as a canine grin of pure joy.
Kneeling to greet the returning dog, Hollis opened his arms wide. Buster skidded to a stop in front of him, panting happily. For a moment, they just looked at each other, man and dog, a newfound understanding passing between them.
Then Buster leaned forward and licked Hollis’s hand. The gesture was so unexpected, so filled with trust, that Hollis felt his throat tighten with emotion.
Eyes burning, Hollis reached out to scratch behind Buster’s ears.
“Good boy. Good boy. You are such a good boy,” Hollis said, his throat tight.
As they sat there amid the Christmas trees, Hollis marveled at how far they’d both come. He thought about the angry, distrustful teenager he’d once been, and how this farm—and the people connected to it—had changed his life. Now, years later, he was helping another wanderlust soul find its way.
The parallels weren’t lost on Hollis. Just as Pop, Matt, and Sandy had seen past his rough exterior to the good heart beneath, Hollis had overlooked Buster’s initial presentation to see the loyal, loving dog waiting to emerge. It was a powerful reminder of how patience, understanding, and love could change any circumstance.
“Come on, Buster,” he said, reclipping the leash and returning to a standing position. “Let’s head home.”
They walked side by side through the rows of trees, their breaths creating small clouds in the cold air. Here, surrounded by the trees that had always been Hollis’s comfort, with a dog who had learned to trust him against all odds, Hollis felt truly at home.
As they reached the edge of the farm, Hollis paused to look back at the sea of green behind them—the farm that he’d been helping Pop with for years. The farm that he wanted to continue running for Pop. It was the most peaceful place on earth, in Hollis’s opinion.
Buster let out a happy bark. Apparently, he thought so too.
“Merry Christmas, Buster.” He dipped and gave the dog a final pat before heading inside. He had somewhere to be tonight, and part of him was excited. The other part, nervous as he’d been the first time he’d ever laid eyes on Mallory.
It was just a dance at Memory Oaks. No big deal. Pretty similar to a middle school dance, he guessed, although he’d never been to one.
An hour later, Hollis pulled up to Mallory’s house and climbed her porch with a skip in his step.
“Hi.” She opened her front door, dressed festively in a red sweater dress that hugged her curves with her dark hair cascading around her shoulders.
For a moment, Hollis struggled to make words. She was just as mesmerizing as anything he’d admired in nature on his walk with Buster tonight.
Mallory didn’t seem to notice what a goof he was. Instead, she locked up behind her and headed down the steps, veering toward the passenger side of his truck. She opened the passenger door before he could do it first.
“I would have gotten that for you.”
Mallory slid into the passenger seat and looked up at him. “This isn’t a date, remember?”
