Drawing in a steadying breath, she pressed lightly on the gas. She hoped Dottie and their friends would understand if she didn’t show up at the lighting ceremony tonight. For now, she just wanted to go home and be alone with her memories.
A short time later, she steered the car onto the driveway that ran beside a tidy little house on a tree-lined street. Already, snow blanketed the sidewalks and walkways. It piled up along the curbs. She stomped the wintery mix from her shoes on the mat by the front door. Stepping into the house, she let down her guard as she hung her coat and hat on the coat tree by the door. Within these walls, she didn’t need to keep a stiff upper lip or pretend that she was over the pain of losing Chet. Here, in the home they’d barely begun to furnish before he’d left, she could be herself.
She fixed herself a cup of tea and settled into the chair by the window. On the other side of the panes, the snow fell thicker. It muffled the sounds of the occasional car on her street. A deep and mournful howl came from somewhere nearby. She brushed the dampness from her cheeks and peered through the glass, but the only movement came from the steam that rose in thin tendrils from her cup on the end table. She took a sip. Over the rim of the china, she eyed the decorations she’d put out in hopes of creating a festive air in the house that was too big, too quiet, for one person. She’d bought the smallest Christmas tree they’d had on the lot this year. It stood, slightly canted to one side, in the corner. Money had been tight, and she hadn’t had any to spare for lights, but she’d strung a garland of cranberries and popcorn across the tree’s branches. She’d even spent an entire evening cutting strips of newspaper and pasting the links together in a long chain that she’d draped from the green limbs. Though she wished there were more gifts under the tree, she’d lovingly wrapped each one and tied them off with bright red bows. She smiled, thinking how Toby’s face would light up when he opened his on Christmas morning. Would he like the books she’d chosen for him?
After fortifying herself with another sip of tea, she pulled a leather-bound album onto her lap. Paging through it, she lingered over favorite pictures where Chet’s face smiled up at her. She couldn’t help but smile in return as she recalled the happy moments of their time together. She traced one finger over a picture of Chet as a boy. He leaned against a fencepost, grinning, his hands in the pockets of his overalls as if he hadn’t just tugged on her pigtails and ran away before she could catch him. She turned the page and studied a more recent photo. She’d snapped this one at the train station when Chet had gotten a three-day pass just before he’d shipped out. He’d looked so handsome stepping from the train, all dark good looks and swagger, in his uniform. His confidence that they’d win the war had been infectious, and she’d been caught up in his certainty that he’d come home to her. But it hadn’t turned out that way, and, long before she wanted to, she reached the last page in the album.
Outside, a dog barked. This time, a frantic pawing at her front door accompanied a fearful whining.
“Oh, my goodness.” She closed the photo album and set it aside.
The moment she opened the door, a golden retriever burst into the room. Little more than a puppy, the dog gave a happy sound and shook, spattering the bare hardwood with clumps of ice and snow.
“Oh! Poor baby. Are you cold?” A laugh bubbled in her throat, and she stopped herself. Of course the dog was cold. With the snow coming down by the bucketful, he was lucky he hadn’t frozen to death. Who knew how long he’d been stuck out there? She rushed down the hall, grabbed a towel and a blanket from the closet, and raced back to his side.
“This’ll get you warmed up.” She treated the dog to a vigorous rubdown. As she worked, golden strands of thick fur sifted through her fingers. When she heard a metallic clink from the collar around his neck, she breathed a sigh of relief. The pretty puppy wasn’t a stray. He had owners. People who must miss him terribly. She kneeled beside the pup and felt for his tags. “Ruffin,” she read out loud. “Is that your name?”
In answer to her question, Ruffin licked her hand.
“Good dog,” she said, giving him a big hug. “Are you lost, Ruffin? You’re a ways from home, aren’t you?” According to his tags, the dog belonged to a family who lived off Main Street, not far from the gazebo. She glanced out the window. Snow fell steadily. If this kept up, the streets would soon be impassible. Grabbing a pencil and a slip of paper, she copied the information from Ruffin’s tag. “Okay, boy. I’m going to call your folks and let them know where you are.”
As if he understood, the dog wagged his tail. With a heavy sigh, he flopped down on the floor near the heater.
Hanna shook her head. The young pup had to be exhausted after his ordeal. Leaving him to his nap, she headed for the phone. Her stomach sank before she even held the receiver to her ear. Other people were using the party line she shared with the rest of the neighbors on her street.
“… and her tone of voice,” one woman said. “Let me tell you. Miss Know-It-All!”
Filled with self-importance, a different voice replied, “It’s just a phase. Tina did the same thing.”
“Excuse me,” Hanna interrupted as politely as she could. “I’d like to make a call.”
“—week? We were listening to the radio—”
Frustrated when the conversation between the women continued as if she hadn’t spoken, Hanna raised her voice. “Excuse me. I’d like to make a call.”
“Uh!” The first speaker made an irritated sound. “Is this an emergency?” she demanded.
“Well, no…” Not technically, it wasn’t. If she couldn’t make a call, no one would die or anything. She studied the snow that fell beyond her window. “But I—”
“If it’s not an emergency, you’ll have to wait your turn,” Miss Snippy said.
As if trying to make up for her friend’s rudeness, the other voice broke in. “We’ll be off in a jiff.”
“Right.” Figuring the odds of that happening were about the same as the sun bursting through the storm clouds in the night sky, Hanna hesitated. She’d pay a big fine or even get arrested if she claimed she needed the phone for an emergency when she didn’t. Even if it had been, she couldn’t force the women to get off the line. With no choice in the matter, she lowered the receiver into its cradle. She glanced at the dog. “Well, Ruffin. What do we do now?”
In answer, he scurried across the floor to the door. Whining, he sniffed at it.
“Oh, I know.” She patted the dog’s thick fur. “I tried.”
Not at all satisfied, Ruffin lifted one paw and placed it in her lap. The dog’s pleading whimpers cut straight through her heart. Was someone missing their pet as much as he missed his owners? The collar of her dress felt tight around her neck. She tugged at the wool and cleared her throat. She’d do her part to get the pup home to the people who loved him. It was the least she could do.
Taking her coat from its hook by the door, she leaned down. “Want to go home, Ruffin? Do you, boy?”
With an eager look, the retriever issued a happy bark.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She grabbed her purse and keys.
A treacherous twenty minutes later, she eased onto a driveway beside a two-story home trimmed with garlands of green and strands of multi-colored lights. When she tapped the horn to announce her arrival, the front door sprang open almost immediately. Warm, inviting light spilled from the house as a woman stepped out onto the spacious porch. Seeing her, Ruffin leaped toward the windshield. His paws on the dashboard, he barked excitedly.
“Recognize someone, do you, boy?” Hanna asked. She held the car door