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Mary's Christmas Surprise

By Carol James

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“I’m home!” Mary’s words echoed in the silent darkness of her parents’ house. Her announcement was living proof that, as Mom said, old habits die hard. For a few seconds, she’d forgotten no one was home.
An excited bark sounded from the kitchen. Well, no one was home except Riley.
Stepping into the foyer, Mary set down her suitcases, turned on the light, and then made her way into the kitchen as a playful yip greeted her.
Riley was in his crate. On the counter, his leash and box of treats sat beside a piece of paper inscribed with the vet’s phone number and care instructions in Mom’s handwriting. So, maybe coming home would do some good after all. Keeping Ri crated while Mom and Dad were gone bordered on cruelty, but Mary understood. Leaving him at the kennel for weeks while they were on their anniversary trip would have cost a fortune. Tomorrow, Mary would call the neighbors and let them know she was home and could take over the Riley duties.
She squatted and struggled to unlatch the door of the now rocking crate. Before she could pull the door open completely, seventy pounds of black lab bounded out, knocking her to the floor and covering her face with dog kisses. ‚Hey, buddy. I’ve missed you, too.‛ As she pulled him close, he nuzzled her shoulder and whimpered. At least one man in this world, besides Dad, loved her.
“C’mon, Ri. Tonight and for the rest of the Christmas holiday, you’re bunking with me. No more sleeping in that jail.”

~*~

Something startled her awake. Her bedroom door had been pushed open. She reached her hand out to Riley’s side of the bed. It was empty but still warm. Where was that dog? As she rolled out of bed and put on her robe, a series of rhythmic slaps sounded below. Someone, definitely not Riley, was walking across the tile floor in the foyer. An intruder. Anyone who’d been watching the house would know her parents had been gone for weeks. Her heart pounded, the blood throbbing in her ears. Dad had always said Riley would probably lick any burglar into submission. But Ri should have at least barked or whimpered with joy while he was doing it. She’d heard nothing. The truth rose up in her throat. Riley was probably drugged or dead somewhere.
She grabbed her phone and tiptoed as lightly as possible toward the closet. After silently closing the door, she crouched in the far corner. Heart racing and fingers shaking, she managed to dial the police.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“Someone’s broken into my house, and they’re still here. I think they’ve killed my dog,” she responded, her voice barely above a whisper. As the spoken words hit home, tears filled her eyes.
“What’s your name, and where are you?‛ the operator asked, her voice steady.
‘Mary Sherman. I’m at 865 Saddle in a closet in the back bedroom upstairs.”
“Good, Mary. Stay there. A patrol car’s been dispatched. Now describe yourself to me.”
“What? I…"
“So I can relay it to the officers.”
“Dark brown hair, past my shoulders. Brown eyes. Five feet eight. About one thirty. Hurry! Please hurry!”
“We will, Mary. I’ll stay on the phone with you until the officers arrive. Do you have any weapons?”
Weapons? “No.”
“Great, Mary. That’s perfect.”
Maybe not. What if the police didn’t make it in time? What if he found her first? She absolutely needed a way to protect herself.
In the far corner behind some prom dresses stood her old tennis racket. That would be her best choice of weapon should the intruder find her before the police arrived. She crawled over, sat, and placed it diagonally across her body. Some shield this would make, but it was better than nothing. She wouldn’t give in without a fight.
“Mary, are you still there?”
“Yes.” Her whole body trembled.
“Good. You’re doing great. The officers are on your street, so they’ll be there any minute. For your safety, please stay where you are. They’ll come get you when everything is under control.”
“OK.”
The minutes seemed like hours before commotion rumbled downstairs and a familiar bark sounded. Tears she’d been holding back rolled down her cheeks. Riley was OK.
“They’re here. Thanks so much.”
“Good. Now stay on the—”
She tapped “End” on her phone and waited. Maybe she should go downstairs. No. What if the criminal had overcome the police? She’d wait. Her fingers were numb from gripping her racket so tightly.
A muffled voice sounded through the door. “Mary? It’s Officer Jenkins. You can come out now.”
How did she know “Officer Jenkins” was actually a policeman? It could be the killer trying to find her. But then a murderer probably wouldn’t know her name. Unless he had stalked her all the way from the Atlanta airport. Her pounding heart jerked her entire body.
“Mary? Are you OK?"
She couldn’t spend the rest of her life—however short—in her closet. Please, Father... She opened the door and inched out into the bedroom. A policeman stood inside the doorway to the hall, his hand on his gun.
“Drop the racket,” a voice hiding in the darkness behind her commanded.
She jumped and did as she was told.
“Hands on your head.”
“What’s going on?” She struggled to keep her voice even as she complied.
Ignoring her question, the officer in the doorway flipped on the light. “OK, Jake. Does she look familiar?”
A tall man with longish, dark brown hair and an even darker lumberjack beard stepped into the room and stared at her in silence. With brows knit, he slowly shook his head. “No...wait, yes. Yes, she kind of looks like the girl in some pictures downstairs.”
They thought she was the criminal? “Of course, they look like me! They are me! I’m not the intruder. He is! This is my parents’ house, and I’m the one who called nine-one-one. Someone please tell me what’s going on.”
“Looks like there’s been a little mix-up,” the voice behind her chuckled. “We’ll be on our way, and ol’ Jake here can clear things up. I imagine he can answer any questions you have.”

~*~

“Ol’ Jake” pulled a bag of coffee out of the canister next to the stove. “How about some decaf?” He opened the cabinet by the sink and grabbed a couple of mugs. He certainly knew his way around Mom’s kitchen.
“Sure.” She was trying to appear calmer than she felt. This whole thing was unreal. Surely, any second now, she’d wake up and find herself upstairs in her bed.
As she sat at the table, her reflection came into view in the back window. Her hair looked like a family of spiders had been weaving little webs and had gotten off course. She reached up and quickly tried to smooth the tangled mess.
Riley padded over and placed his head in her lap. His eyes sparkled, and his tail wagged. Ri was a good judge of character, and nothing about this seemed to concern him. But the truth was that she had no idea who “Ol’ Jake” was or what he was doing in her parents’ house. She took a deep breath to calm herself.
“Sorry about this whole thing.” Jake set the mugs on the table and slipped into the chair across from her. “I’m staying here, and it kinda freaked me out when the police came to the door and told me someone was hiding upstairs. I had no clue anyone was here. I mean, nothing was out of place in the house.”
”Neatness is not grounds for arrest.” Even she could hear the defensiveness in her voice.
“Neither is taking the dog out. And just in case you’ve forgotten, you were the one who called the police.”
“But shouldn’t you have figured out something was up when Riley was loose?”
“The other day, he pulled a Houdini and got out of his crate. I assumed I just hadn’t closed it right again.” He blew across his coffee and then took a sip. A slight smile crossed his face. “So-o-o-o, where’s your car? If I’d seen a vehicle in the driveway, I’d have known something was up.”
“I took a cab from the airport,” she shot back.
His eyes twinkled. They were hazel with golden flecks in them. “Gotcha.”
She tasted the coffee. Some cinnamony-chestnutty blend. “Thanks for the coffee. It’s good.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Look, Jake. My parents didn’t expect me to come home for Christmas. Actually, I didn’t expect to either.” She glanced at the diamond engagement ring on her left hand. “It was kind of a last minute thing. Anyway, now that I’m here, there’s no need for you to stay. I’ll see that my parents pay you for the whole time when they get back. You can go home.”
“I am home.”
Surely, she hadn’t heard him correctly. This was, and always would be, her family’s house.
He leaned back in the chair and smiled. “I’m renting the guest room from your parents.”
No one had told her. “Mom and Dad would never rent out a room.” Unless there’d been some sort of financial disaster. Maybe Dad had lost his job. But no, they wouldn’t be on that cruise around the world if that were the case.
“I moved to town about three months ago, and the pastor knew they had space and asked them if I could stay here until I find a place of my own. I was the one who insisted I pay rent.”
“But now that I’m back, couldn’t you stay somewhere else temporarily?”
Sipping his coffee, he stared at some point over her shoulder. “I guess I could stay at the shelter downtown.”
The shelter? She wouldn’t wish that on anyone. The other choice was for her to rent a hotel room, and she didn’t have the money for that. So she couldn’t leave.
But they couldn’t both stay in the same house. Or could they? When she was in college, she and Eric had shared an apartment simply for financial reasons. They’d been strictly friends, and it had worked out fine. The main difference was that she knew Eric from the student mission group. She didn’t know Jake. But Mom and Dad did, and they obviously trusted him. “OK, I have an idea.”
“Shoot.” He took another sip of his coffee.
“We’re adults. We can both stay here.”
As coughing overcame him, his face reddened and his eyes filled. He’d gotten strangled.
“Are you OK?” The last thing she wanted to do was run around the table and beat him on the back like Mom used to do when she was a kid.
He held up a hand and nodded his head as the attack subsided. “That’s exactly why we can’t stay here. Because we’re both adults.”
“No, listen. I’ll move downstairs to Mom and Dad’s room.” It had a private bath and a lock on the door. “And you can stay in the guest room upstairs.”
“Mary, I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count the number of reasons that’s a bad idea. You and I will know nothing’s going on, but no one else will.” He took a deep breath and then continued. “It’s really late, so I’ll stay tonight. But tomorrow, I’ll find someplace else.”

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