“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 wide.
“Ruffin?” The woman on the porch took several steps forward. Beneath fashionable dark curls, shock and disbelief played across her finely chiseled features. “Oh, my gosh. Hal, it’s Ruffin,” she called over her shoulder.
As soon as Hanna opened the car door, Ruffin bounded from the front seat. Taking the steps three at a time, as only a young dog could, he leaped to the spot where a woman not much older than Hanna herself kneeled. Happy tears streamed down the young owner’s face as she wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck.
“I guess it goes without saying that he’s yours,” Hanna said, smiling at the antics of the excited puppy. “I’m Hanna Morse. Ruffin knocked on my door tonight, pretty as you please, and asked me if I wouldn’t mind bringing him home to you.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” The owner buried her face in the dog’s fur for a long moment. With a start, she jumped to her feet. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Sue Bunce. Please, please come in.” Sue opened the door behind her and stifled a giggle as Ruffin darted past. “Come here, Ruffin. Come here,” she ordered, but the boisterous dog kept on going.
“Only for a minute,” Hanna murmured. It’d be good to get warm before she started the long drive home. But she wouldn’t stay. Not with the snow falling in thick clumps and the roads getting sloppier by the minute.
Following Sue, she stepped into a parlor where a dozen or more Christmas cards lined a mantel edged with swags of greenery. The inviting scent of gingerbread mingled with the smoke that rose from the wood stove and bathed the house in the warm smells of the season. Sue didn’t stand on ceremony but immediately sank to her knees on the carpet. As if she didn’t trust her eyes, she buried her hands in the dog’s fur.
“This is my husband, Hal,” she announced, nodding to the snappily dressed man who trotted down the stairs. “Oh, Hal! Isn’t it wonderful? Hanna brought Ruffin home to us!” She hugged the dog to her. Cupping the pup’s face in her hands, she asked, “Where were you, you bad boy. Hmmm? Where have you been?”
Hal’s eyes crinkled and the corners of his mouth lifted. “She lives for that dog,” he said, though his own love for their pet was as plain as the smile on his face.
“Honestly, I never knew how much until just now,” Sue agreed. She laughed when the dog pushed closer. His tail wagged furiously, as if he wanted his owners to know he’d never run away again. “Right, boy?” Tears glistened in the dark eyes she aimed at Hanna. “Gosh. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t brought him home. You’re our hero.”
“Oh, no.” Hanna dismissed that idea out of hand. “Heroes change the world. I just did a simple thing.”
Sue scrambled to her feet. “Well, you saved our Christmas, I can tell you that. Can you imagine how broken-hearted we would all be if we had to spend Christmas without Ruffin?”
Hanna’s breath stalled in her chest. She knew all too well how difficult it was to spend Christmas missing someone you loved. She edged toward the door. “I should be going,” she managed.
“Are you sure?” Sue crossed to the window, where she pulled the heavy drape aside. “Hanna, it’s getting really bad out there. Why don’t you spend the night here?”
How sweet.
She gave the invitation a moment’s thought as she looked about the room. Short laces tied in a pretty bow, a pair of white baby shoes glowed among the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. The comfy, red
