“Snowmobiles,” Will’s voice wobbles.
“Can’t get the shed doors open,” Damon growls. “Maybe I can get to the stable and free the horses.”
“Except Grandpa can’t ride,” Nash says. “And the horses are too tall to pull the dogsled.”
“What happened?” Abbie cries. “Did Santa die?”
Lindsay swoops over Will and Abbie like a mother hen. She and Susanna hush the kids who are both in tears and suggest milk and cookies. I look over, and Sammie is also wiping her eyes.
She gives me a nod and says, “Wolf and Blitz. Take the dogsled. It’s the only way.”
“It’s not comfortable,” I argue.
“Oh, shut up,” Grandpa growls. “What’s not comfortable is all of you here arguing. Why can’t we have the best Christmas ever?”
“We will, and we are.” Sammie grasps his gnarly hand and kisses him on the cheek. “I love you, Poppy, but you need to go out in the snow. It’s Christmas morning, and some presents aren’t delivered.”
“That’s right. We can’t have any children without toys when the sun rises, can we?” I tug his Santa’s hat over his head and let the furry brim cover his ears. “The only catch is we have to go by dogsled. The reindeer are tired. Can you do it?”
“You betcha!” His voice is loud and slurred at the same time.
Damon wasn’t lying. When I come back dressed in my snow clothes, I see what I’m up against. The snow is piled so high it’s up to my chest.
“Are you sure, son?” Dad clasps my shoulder and looks me in the eye. “Can you really do it, or should we wait for the paramedics?”
“I’ve mushed in Alaska while in the special forces. This particular sled has a toboggan front. It might not be fast, but it is sturdy.” I pick up Grandpa’s frail body while Sammie holds the down comforter and tarp Jolene supplied over him.
We make sure Grandpa has mittens, a ski mask, earmuffs, and scarf. By the time we strap him on the sled, he looks like a papoose.
“Wolf and Blitz,” Sammie says to the two excited dogs. “You two get to be our real-life Christmas heroes.”
I pick up the dogs and push them up and over the piled-up snow, then lift Sammie so she can help hold the dogs while I attach the harnesses.
When we’re ready, Damon and Nash lift Grandpa, sled and all, and slide him over to me.
One by one, the rest of my family climb out over the drift, sinking halfway to their waists to see me and Grandpa off.
“You know the way?” Dad asks, clasping me around the shoulders.
“It might be hard without any landmarks, but I’m sure I can figure it out.” I pull a ski mask over my face to protect from the biting wind.
Riley hands me her phone. “The nine-one-one operator says to stay in touch. You can use the GPS on the phone, and she can talk you through.”
Macy surprises me with a spontaneous hug. “Braden, may God be with you.”
Then Sammie kisses me over the ski mask, and I realize everyone is huddled around in a circle, either hugging me or laying their hands over me and each other.
Dad leads a prayer. “Dear God. We’re asking you to give us a Christmas miracle, not with toys or gifts or even fun and games, but to heal all our broken hearts. Let us be a family again, whole and complete. Bear up Braden and Jon on eagle’s wings as they make their way to the hospital. In your Son’s name, we give thanks and Amen.”
