“Good.” A need to see her son and see him right that second raced through her veins. Like the mother-bear instinct that almost had her run over Ely a moment ago, this need fueled her. “Billy!” she yelled.
“Billy?” Ely called.
“You can go.” She pointed to his truck—the truck he’d parked in her spot on the driveway as if he owned the place.
He scowled. “That’s a fine how-do-you-do after I came all the way out here on a good deed.”
The nerve of this man was too much. Sure, she was glad he’d come out here to check on Billy while she was at work—and as soon as she calmed down, she’d want to thank him. But right now, she needed him gone. “Not now, Ely. I’m too keyed up.” She shook out her hands, which were quickly becoming ice in the cold night air.
He nodded. “Ya want to move your car?”
“Just shut the door and go around.” She pushed the barn door open and then slipped inside, closing it behind her.
“Mom!” Billy grabbed her around the middle from behind.
“Billy.” She swung around, loosening his arms, and then dropped to her knees where she could hug him properly. Oh, his small frame. His hair that smelled like crayons and winter. He was here. He was all right. He was here. “What in the world is going on around here?” Behind Billy, Snowflake stood tall, her ears following the sound of Ely’s truck as it pulled down the road.Slowlypulled down the road. If he went any slower, he wouldn’t be leaving.
Snowflake sniffed and twitched her tail. She lowered her head as if she was ready to charge. Good thing Ely hadn’t come in; he would have been gored by the reindeer, by the looks of things. The geese weren’t all that happy either. They flapped their wings at the door and lifted their necks high. The ducks stood behind them like soldiers waiting for their orders.
Mitzi reached out her arm and motioned for Snowflake to join their hug. She came over, setting her chin on Mitzi’s shoulder and allowing her to put her arm over her neck and pat the other side with her palm. “Thank you,” Mitzi whispered. Even though Ely wasn’t a threat, Snowflake would have protected Billy. “Are you two okay?”
Billy nodded. “I heard Ely pull up, but I didn’t feel good about talking to him. He seemed angry or something.”
“You did good following your feelings.” She looked at Snowflake. “Both of you.”
Snowflake nodded, and something passed between the two of them. There was no doubt that Snowflake loved Billy enough to fight for him. That was a gift Mitzi would be eternally grateful for. And it was the only thing she wanted for Christmas.
“Well, we’re all safe and sound and hungry. Am I right?” She tickled Billy’s side, trying to lighten the mood and get things back to normal. Later, before bed, she’d cry out the rest of the emotions swirling around her, but her pillowcase would be the only witness to her breakdown.
He giggled and danced away from her. “Mo-om!”
She grinned. Everything was okay. Her heartbeat was almost back to normal, and Ely wouldn’t bother her again—not after the chilly way she’d treated him tonight. She felt bad about being so mean, but it had to be done. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gotten the message. “Let’s wash up and you can bring an apple out to Snowflake.”
“Really?” She rarely let Billy give the reindeer treats.
“Yep, she earned it.” She rubbed between Snowflake’s antlers as she passed. The reindeer allowed the affection with a small huff. “What were you guys doing in the barn anyway?” she asked as they made their way outside. Her car was running, and the door was still open. Nice.
“Checkers,” Billy replied.
Mitzi laughed at the mental image. “Who won?”
“I’m up two games to one, but Snowflake thinks she’s going to beat me this game.” He put his hand on Snowflake’s shoulder as they walked in.
A different worry rose to the surface of Mitzi’s mind. Billy needed human playmates. While Snowflake wasn’t imaginary—and she certainly was a loyal pet—she wasn’t helping Billy socialize with kids his age. If she wasn’t so afraid someone would take Snowflake away, she’d let Billy tell everyone about his amazing animal. When she’d explained how the government kept a close watch on reindeer and only allowed certain people with permits to have them, he’d agreed to keep their secret. Now, she wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to put one more wall between him and the kids his age. The weight of carrying these decisions on her own threatened to pull her under.
She tried to shake it off, to think of brighter things. But the stack of bills that greeted her upon entering the kitchen wasn’t all that cheery. Neither was the knowledge that she didn’t have a tree to decorate nor presents to put under it.
While she sliced an apple, Billy dug into his backpack and pulled out several sheets of paper. “Here’s my assignments.” He threw them on the table and then rushed over to get the apple.
She let him out the back door—it could be tricky to manage when your hands were full—and then went to look through the pages on the table. The last sheet was a picture he’d drawn of Snowflake pulling a sleigh. Her mind started to spin with a wonderful Christmas idea. One that could save the holiday for both of them and wouldn’t cost her an arm and a leg.
The old, broken sled in the woods might still work. It was beat up, but she worked at a hardware store. Surely Carla could lone her some tools and they had a pile of leftover wood in the storeroom.
As she imagined Billy’s face on Christmas morning, her mood brightened considerably. If she could fix up the sleigh, one of Billy’s wishes could come true. Oh my goodness, he’d be so excited. Her heart lifted as she attached the picture to the fridge with a magnet.
She could do this. The one thing she had going for her was her ability to work and work hard. She’d fix the sled, they’d have a Christmas ride together, and it would be the best holiday yet.
She started humming as she pulled out a pound of ground beef to brown for supper. She’d go get the sled on her morning off, right after Billy went to school, and hide it in the garage. Neither of them went in there. The space was too small to park her car in anyway. But the sled would fit just right.
