The Christmas Phoenix Read online

  He trudged back toward the house and opened the back door. Charlie promptly headed for the basement and dashed to the pool table. And there he huddled. Jake started to descend the stairs but stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of the dog getting sick. The smell wafting up the stairs told him there was an even bigger mess. Groaning, he closed the basement door and headed to the garage. His brother-in-law’s snowmobile would get him to the source of the continuing explosions faster than driving would. Whoever was setting off those things would have to clean up after Charlie.

  The sound came from across the gully, from the house directly behind his. Hopefully the stream was frozen over enough to be able to ride directly across. Riding along the bank, he found an area where someone had constructed a makeshift bridge. He scooted across and up the hill to his neighbor’s yard.

  Three boys stood together, surrounded by the litter from hundreds of firecrackers. The trio quickly broke apart when they heard his snowmobile approach.

  “Afternoon, boys.” He took his time looking each boy in the eye and memorizing their faces. Two looked guilty and backed away, but the tallest one swaggered toward him.

  “Hello, mister. Nice machine you’ve got there. Nice day for a ride, too.”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed. The kid was too smooth to be sincere. “Yeah, it was a nice day for my dog, too, until a bunch of firecrackers scared the living daylights out of him.”

  “Really? That’s too bad. I’m sure he’ll get over it soon.”

  “I’m not so sure. Right now he's hiding in my basement. He's scared, and he's so sick it’s going to take several people to clean up the mess.”

  The boys looked at each other, their faces scrunched in disgust. The tall one regained his composure first. “Gee, mister. That’s rough. But you can’t prove anything.”

  “I’ve got some pretty good pictures of all the firecracker litter on the snow. And I’m sure if I went from house to house with these pictures, some of these nice neighbors would be able to identify the boys in them.” He hadn’t taken any pictures—yet. But he hoped his ruse would get results.

  “Aww, Zach, I told you we shouldn’t take your dad’s firecrackers.”

  “It wasn’t my idea to take all of them. That was Brad’s bright idea.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure your mom isn’t gonna like this either, Rory.”

  Bingo, Jake thought. Now he had names. Zach, Brad, and Rory. All he had to do was find out where they lived.

  Chapter Four

  Jess pulled off her boots, hung up her coat, scarf and hat, and padded into the kitchen. A cup of hot coffee or cocoa would be wonderful, she thought, but she was too tired to fix it for herself. Orange juice. That would be easy. She opened the refrigerator, but the orange juice container wasn’t there. Had Rory finished it off? He should have been home from school by now. Hopefully, he was in his room. There was no note telling her he was at someone else’s house, and the voicemail light on the phone wasn’t blinking.

  She’d look later. Right now she had to get off her feet. She’d been up since 4 am, clearing out people’s driveways. And she'd gotten an inquiry for clearing the parking lot at the new convenience store on the highway. So business was starting to pick up. Hopefully, she could convince her new customers to subscribe to her lawn service in the summertime.

  But right now, the hotel job was needed to help pay the bills. So she’d put on her little uniform, gone to work, and put up with Mad Max, who ruled the dining room at the Pine Ridge Hotel. She’d set out linens and silverware just the way he liked it, and then helped serve a luncheon to twenty or so society matrons who had nothing better to do than dress up and look gorgeous and gossip. Of course, these women didn’t see her as a person. She might as well have been a piece of furniture. They talked about people she had heard about, and their private lives. She’d almost spilled the soup she’d been serving when Mrs. Reginald Harrison, the mayor’s wife, had gone into details about her recent second honeymoon.

  Jess grabbed a glass of water and went to her favorite recliner. Leaning back, she put her feet up and closed her eyes. Ahh. All her thoughts blended into a pastel haze. Doug was back, taking care of her, massaging her feet, telling her not to worry. And then he dropped a rock. A rock? A whole bag of rocks, and they bounced across her floor. He kept picking them up and dropping them. Why did he keep doing that? Rory was yelling now. He was talking to someone. Someone with a deep voice. And then he yelled.

  "Mom!"

  She tried to open her eyes, but her lids wouldn't move.

  "Mom, there's a guy here."

  A guy?

  "Mom!" Rory sounded worried now. She felt his hand on her shoulder, shaking it.

  "Mister, I don't know what's wrong with her. I gotta call 911."

  "Has she been sick? Is she on medication?"

  Who did that deep voice belong to?

  "No, I don't think so. I don't know. She was okay when she took me to school this morning. She was mad because I forgot my books and stuff again. Mom, wake up! I promise I'll do my homework. Right now. Wake up!" His voice sounded frantic now.

  She tried to answer, she truly did, but all that came out was a groan.

  A large, warm hand felt her forehead, and then her cheek. It was a rough hand, the thick calluses scratching her skin, but curiously it felt comforting, reassuring.

  "She's not feverish. That's a good sign."

  She finally pried one eye open. "Hmmm?" She still couldn't form any words.

  "She's waking up! Mom, what happened?"

  Two faces came into view. One was a familiar, dear face. Her son. Her baby boy. He looked worried. The other one was vaguely familiar. Dark, rough and rugged. And equally concerned.

  She took a deep breath. "Who’re you?"

  "She said something! What did she say?"

  "She wanted to know who I am. I think.”

  "There’s a glass of water on the end table. Here, Mom."

  The rugged one took the water from Rory. "Wait just a minute." He brought the glass to his nose, sniffed it, and tasted it. Then he held it to her face.

  "I'm not drinking that." Finally, her tongue started to work.

  "Why not?"

  "You drank out of my glass."

  "I had to make sure it was water, and not something that would put you back to sleep."

  Rory's face looked less worried now. More stern. "Mom, have you been drinking?"

  She nearly laughed, but the effort was still too great. "Wha—who—drinking? No. Just really tired, I guess." She turned to Jake. "Who—who are you? How did you get in?"

  "Jake Thompson. I live in the house behind you. I came over to talk to you. Your kid answered the door and when you didn't wake up he asked me to help. He was really worried."

  "Yeah, Mom. I kept calling you and you didn't move or anything."

  "I'm fine, Rory. Just tired." She turned to Jake. "Thanks for coming in to help him, but I'll be all right, now that I've slept. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

  "Uh, Mom, I'll get you something to eat."

  She turned back to her son. "What about you? Aren't you hungry?"

  "Mom, it's seven o’clock now. I ate a while ago."

  "Seven?" She stood, fully awake now. "Oh, no!"

  "I'm okay. I ate at Nate's house. Didn't you get my message?"

  "What message? I didn't see a note on the counter, and there was no voicemail."

  "I sent you a text."

  "Oh." She pulled her phone out of her pocket. The battery was dead. Another detail she hadn't taken care of. She groaned and flopped back into her recliner.

  "Kid, why don't you get your mom another glass of water, and something to eat?"

  Rory frowned at the man, but he took the glass and disappeared from view.

  The stranger took a seat on the ottoman. "So now that your son is busy, and you're awake, why don't I get to the reason I came over in the first place?"

  "You brought that ice sculpture to the Pine Ridge H
otel this morning, didn't you?"

  "Right. And if you were out driving a snowplow earlier, I think you were in my driveway this morning."

  The grumpy guy from the next street. "Right. I thought you looked familiar. Sorry about the mix-up."

  "Not a problem. But I'm here about something else. Your son is terrorizing my dog."

  "He—what?"

  "He and his friends were lighting firecrackers this afternoon. The dogs in the entire neighborhood were howling in fear. I'm taking care of my sister's dog, and I don't need to add ‘going to the dog shrink’ to my list of responsibilities."

  "Firecrackers? Rory? But—but…" There was nothing she could say. Rory had been home, unsupervised, for at least two hours before she’d gotten home from the hotel. He said he’d gone to his friend's house.

  "Were they doing that here, or at the neighbor's? Rory said he ate at his friend's house."

  "The firecrackers were set off here, in your back yard. He must have gone to his friend's house after I came over and talked to them. They denied it, of course, but the evidence was scattered all over the snow. I told them all I was going to come and talk to their parents. I've already talked to two sets of them. You're the last one."

  "Oh no. I'm so sorry."

  "I'm sure you are. So I have a proposition for you. Since the boys scared Charlie so much he won't leave my basement, I think they should help with the mess the dog left because of it."

  "When?"

  Jake checked his watch. "Whenever he's ready. The other boys are coming over at 7:30 and it's 7:15 now. I'd better head home."

  He looked up at Rory, who had just entered the room carrying a plate and a glass of water. "You take care of your mom, and make sure she's okay. If you don't feel safe leaving her tonight, I'll have other things you can help me with tomorrow or later in the week."

  He reached for his wallet and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Jess.

  "Here's my card. I'm legit. I'm not a predator, but I won’t be offended if you want to check out my background, or call the other parents. One of the other boys' dad is coming along tonight, presumably to watch his kid, but I'm sure he's not comfortable sending his kid out to a stranger's home. Whatever works out for you is fine with me." He turned then and let himself out. A moment later Jess heard a snowmobile start and zoom away.

  "Rory."

  "Just take it easy, Mom. I'll get you a TV table."

  "I can eat it on my lap. Rory, where did you guys get firecrackers?"

  "Zach had them. Do you want some pop?"

  "No, water is fine. Talk to me, Rory. What happened? You must have had a lot of firecrackers for Mr.—" She glanced at the business card. "Mr. Thompson's dog to be so traumatized."

  Rory shrugged. "He found a whole box of them. His dad got them out of state and had them stored for next Fourth of July."

  "So Zach stole them from his dad."

  Another shrug. "I guess so. He's in a lot of trouble."

  "I can imagine he is. And you were with him, so you're also responsible. I'm going to finish this sandwich, and then I'll take you over to Mr. Thompson’s house. Maybe you can get started on your homework before we go." She picked up her sandwich and started to eat. Rory had taken great care building this sandwich. He'd put mayonnaise on both sides, just the way she liked it, and added lettuce, cheese, and tomato slices in addition to the chicken. And he'd toasted the bread. Heaven.

  She munched happily, enjoying her meal, realizing this was the first meal her son had prepared for her by himself. He had helped Doug fix her birthday and Mother’s Day breakfasts, but that was long ago. He really was capable of feeding himself. Her dad had mentioned Rory needed more responsibility.

  “You’re spoiling your son,” he’d said. “He’s going to turn into a wimp.”

  She'd thought he was being too hard on his grandson. "He's only fourteen, Dad," she'd insisted.

  A part of her knew her dad was right. But it was so hard. She'd start to ask Rory to take more responsibility, and she'd remember him standing at his father's grave, so lost. And then she'd do the work herself.

  “Mom, have you ever heard of a phoenix?” Rory’s question brought her back to the present.

  She swallowed her bite before answering. “Sure. It’s a mythical bird that lives for a long time and when it burns, a new phoenix comes to life from the ashes. Why?”

  “We’re studying myths in Language Arts. We’re supposed to write about a myth that applies to our lives. I think the phoenix’s story is a lot like us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we had to start over again after Dad died. It was really tough for a while, like the fire and the ashes. But I think we’re starting to make it.” He bent his head over his notebook.

  Choking on the lump in her throat, Jess couldn’t have responded if she’d tried.

  Chapter Five

  Jake trudged out his back door, carrying Charlie under his arm. The puppy shivered, but not from the cold. He was still terrified to go outdoors, but he needed to do his business. And he needed the exercise. Jake set the dog on the ground, but Charlie spun around and ran back toward the house. He emptied his bladder by the door, and then yapped, wanting to be let in.

  Jake sighed. It looked like he was still going to be cleaning up after Charlie. Picking up the puppy, he glanced out across the yard. A lone figure trudged across the snow from the house across the gully. The petite woman looked up, as if greeting the day, and then went over to her woodpile. The power was out in the entire neighborhood, and Jake had been thankful for the gas fireplace in his sister's house. His house had warmed up quickly.

  But if Jess had to depend on wood, she'd need a lot more than the tiny pile in the back of her house. Where was that kid of hers? He should be out there helping her.

  Jake glanced over again. Jess was wielding a heavy scoop shovel, trying to knock the snow off the top of the woodpile. The snowfall in the last few days had been heavy, and she had her work cut out for her, especially with that huge shovel. He'd better go and help her. Opening his back door, he set the puppy inside and watched as Charlie dashed to the basement. He closed the door, went to the garage, and started up the snowmobile.

  He rode down the hill to the makeshift bridge and across, and then up toward her house. Jess continued to knock the snow off her woodpile.

  "Need help?" he asked.

  She yelped, and turned toward him, holding her shovel in front of her like a weapon. He backed away, holding his hands out in front of him.

  "Whoa. I come in peace. If you want me to go away, just say so. I saw you across the yard, and it looked like you were having trouble getting to your woodpile. So I rode across. I didn't mean to sneak up on you, but I figured you'd hear the motor." He gestured toward the snowmobile.

  Her features relaxed and she put the shovel down. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone."

  Jake nodded. "Your power out too?"

  "Yes. It's getting a little chilly in there, so I wanted to bring some of this wood inside."

  "I'll help."

  Together they knocked off the rest of the snow. A thick layer of ice had formed under it. They cracked through the ice, and uncovered the wood. Jake frowned at the pile. "Do you have more wood somewhere else? That's not going to last you very long."

  "I know, but it should at least warm up the house a little, and then I figured I'd gather up more of the branches and stuff around the yard. If I have to, I'll call someone to see if I can buy some."

  "You've got a lot of wood all around the house."

  "Yes, but I've never used a chain saw. There’s one in the shed, but it hasn’t been used since Doug died.”

  “I’ll take a look at it. If it works, I’ll help you cut up some of these dead trees,” he offered as they carried some of the logs inside to the wood stove in the den.

  She beamed at him, and he felt his heart speed up. "Thank you. That would be great."

  Jake watched as Jess opened the damper and started
a fire in the stove. He had always admired a self-sufficient woman and this one in particular managed quite well on her own. He wondered how long she'd been a widow, and then chastised himself for his curiosity. There was no way he could burden her with his problems. He was so deep in debt he had nothing to offer, and with a bum leg he was no prize. Still, he couldn't stop the feeling of protectiveness he felt whenever she was near. Maybe it was because she was so tiny compared to his six-foot-plus frame, but he wanted to take care of her, even though she seemed capable of taking care of herself.

  Rory shuffled into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of orange juice and took it into the den, where he plopped down onto the couch and picked up the television remote.

  “Mom, the TV’s not working.”

  “I know. The power’s out. That’s why I’ve been outside getting wood.”

  “Oh.” He put down the remote and picked up a video game.

  Jess’ phone rang and she excused herself to answer it. While she talked, Jake looked over at her son.

  He was taller than his mother, and looked pretty healthy. Why was he sitting there on the couch while his mom did all the work?

  "Hey, kid."

  The boy's fingers stopped, but his head didn't move. It was difficult to see his eyes through the hair covering his face. He'd just have to assume he had the kid's attention.

  "Your mom's been working pretty hard out there. Why don't we help her out?"

  The boy didn't move for a while, and Jake wondered if he'd overstepped. Finally the boy shrugged, and stood. Jake stood almost eye-to-eye with him. He wanted to shake the kid and ask why he would let his tiny mom work so hard, but held himself back. He didn't have the right. Better to just suggest strongly and hope the kid got the message.

  "If the power is out for a long time, you two will need a lot of wood. More than what she has out there. I'll start cutting, and you can bring it to the side of the house. Okay?"

  His words were again met with a shrug, but at least the kid was up. Jake wondered what it would take to elicit a verbal response, but decided a shrug was better than a refusal. Best to pick his battles, he supposed.