Mitzi did her best not to think about the fact that her son’s best friend was a reindeer. She did even better when she didn’t think about how easy it was to fall into a conversation with the animal as if she could talk back. Life was hard enough without looking too deeply at the blessings. At least Billy had a best friend, and at least the reindeer was smart. Sometimes too smart.
“Stop taking human food.” Mitzi wagged her finger at Snowflake.
Snowflake hung her head and sighed. The sigh was half sorry for stealing, half sorry she’d been caught.
“You’re too smart to be cooped up in here all day—you need a challenge.” She rubbed Snowflake’s neck. “I get it. I do. But please stop taking our food. We need to eat too, and there’s only so much to go around out here.”
Just then, Tweedle—or was it Deedle?—let out aba-gawk!and flapped off, leaving an egg behind. Mitzi stared in awe. Neither hen had laid an egg in three weeks.
Snowflake looked at her.See? You have food.
“One egg isn’t enough.” She hurried over to grab it before one of the cats found it. They had two females Billy had rescued from behind the hardware store where she worked. They’d been fixed but were starved. She suspected someone had moved and abandoned them, leaving them to fend for themselves long enough that they were scrappy. One egg might not be enough to feed her and Billy, but she wasn’t going to look a gift hen in the mouth.
Four ducks waddled in out of the cold. As if they smelled the oats that had been eaten, they made a dash for the spot where the carton was lying on its side and commenced an inspection. Billy came in only a second later. He took one look at the carton on the floor, and his eyes went wide.
“Don’t worry.” Mitzi held up her hands. “I’ve already had a talk with her.”
His eyes darted to Snowflake, who blinked, letting him know it wasn’t so bad. Outside, a goose honked and five others answered. They wandered around the barnyard. When they’d first flown in last spring, Mitzi had worried about feeding them too. Her meager paycheck was already stretched to the point of snapping. But the geese foraged on their own. She’d assumed they’d fly south for the winter, but they’d hung out beyond the first snowfall, roosting in the first stall at night and then wandering the property during the day.
Billy picked up the oat container. “Sorry, Mom.” He went over and threw it in the garbage can.
Mitzi tugged at the scarf around her neck. “Why don’t you think up some games for Snowflake? I think she’d like to work out some puzzles or something. Play hide-and-seek, maybe?”
Snowflake twitched her ears, telling them that she’d be up for a game or two.
Billy brightened. “Yeah! We’ll be in the woods.”
The two of them darted out the door, leaving it swinging on its hinges. The sound was high-pitched and echoed across what their landlady called a yard. Mitzi called it dirt in the summer, mud in the spring and fall, and a slipping hazard in the winter. Right now, a snowman stood sentry smack-dab in the middle. He wore her ex-husband’s cowboy hat—which she thought was great, considering he’d spent more money on that hat than on her engagement ring. Maybe it was a waste to let it weather and be ruin, but it sure felt like therapy to her.
She smiled in the direction the two friends scampered off. There was one thing about living in rural Idaho—it was a safe place to play outside. Besides, Snowflake would watch out for Billy.
Her sense of peace was invaded by the sound of a diesel truck bumping up the dirt road to her back door. She frowned as Ely’s outline became clear through the windshield. Darn! For a brief moment, she considered ducking into the barn and pretending she wasn’t home, but her car was parked on the patch of crumbling concrete that passed as a driveway.
Ely parked, set the brake, and opened the door. Before he could get too comfortable, Mitzi was there. “Evening,” she said, even though it was barely afternoon. She didn’t want him to think he had all the time in the world to hang out. “Can I help you with something?”
Ely’s chin jerked back. “No. I—uh.” He looked down at his boots as if he’d written notes there. “Carla sent you some Christmas jam.” He turned quickly back to the truck, reached inside, and when he spun back around, he had a loaf of bread in one arm and a bottle of jam in the other.
Mitzi’s heart softened at the sight. The Lord really did provide. She knew that. She knew it to her very bones as He proved over and over again that He held her and Billy in his hands. It was just that when a whole bag of oats went missing, she felt it like a wound. Mostly a wound to her pride that she wasn’t able to provide for her son. She smiled easily. “Thank you. Breakfast was looking mighty slim.” She held up the egg—also a blessing from God. She should have thanked Him earlier.
“If you need cash …”
Mitzi looked off to the side and cleared her throat. “It was a joke.”
“Oh. Good, then.” Ely still held the bread close to his chest, and she wasn’t about to get closer to take it from him.
“She could have given them to me at work.” Carla was the owner of the hardware store. She was also Ely’s stepmom; his dad had passed away before Mitzi moved to town.
“I told her I didn’t mind running it out to you.” Ely stared at her, a half smile on his face and his eyes soft.
Growing more uncomfortable by the nanosecond, she took the proffered items and headed for the house. Behind her, the truck door shut, and then Ely’s footsteps followed. Great. Did he think she was going to invite him inside? Not a chance.
“So, I was thinking …”
“Ely,” she warned. They’d been down this road before. She didn’t like to be the bad guy, but she had to stay firm.
“There’s that ice skating thing …”
Mitzi stopped walking and faced him. “Ely—you’re a nice guy. But it wouldn’t be fair to you to lead you on and make you think there’s something here that’s not.”
