4

Betty finally had to pull the drapes on the windows that faced her backyard because she could still see the dog sitting out there in the bitter cold just staring toward her house in the most pitiful way. She picked up the phone and considered calling information for the number of the Humane Society. Why shouldn’t she turn Jack Jones in for dog neglect? He deserved it. But then she remembered her daughter’s words. And so she replaced the phone and decided to go to the grocery store instead.

With Susan’s challenge running through her mind, Betty decided she would give this her best attempt. She would do all she could to “kill Jack and his dog with kindness.” And, although she normally lived on a fairly frugal grocery budget, today she would throw caution to the wind. So, along with her normal groceries, Betty also gathered up the ingredients for cookies and fudge. After that she stopped in the pet aisle, where she added to her shopping cart a red nylon collar and matching leash, some dog shampoo, a couple of cans of dog food, and even a red and green plaid bed.

“Looks like somebody is getting a dog for Christmas.” The cashier winked at her as he bagged up her purchases.

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“Or maybe the family pooch is getting something from Santa?” he asked.

She just gave him a stiff smile and paid in cash from her envelope. This was a habit she’d developed years ago when the children still lived at home. But today’s shopping had used up the remainder of her December grocery budget. The month was only half over, and she usually went shopping once a week. But perhaps it would be worth it. Perhaps this was how she would buy peace. And, if the kindness plan didn’t work, she would simply sell her house, and she might even toss budgeting out the window. Maybe she’d do like Susan—board a boat and just sail away into the sunset. Why not?

But as Betty loaded her unusual purchases into her car, trying to ignore the J-shaped gash on the front right fender, she felt rather foolish. What on earth was she doing with this doggy paraphernalia anyway? As she closed her trunk, she feared she might be getting senile. Or maybe she had simply lost her mind. Had Jack Jones driven her mad?

To distract herself from Jack, she focused her attention on praying for Avery. Although they weren’t related by blood, Avery had started calling Betty “Grandma” shortly after her mother married Betty’s son Gary a dozen years ago. And Betty had adopted Avery into her heart as a granddaughter.

Betty remembered the first time she’d met the quiet, preadolescent girl. It had been shortly before the wedding, and Betty had suspected that Avery wasn’t too pleased with her mother’s marriage. But during the reception, Betty and Avery seemed to bond, which was a good thing since Betty was to keep Avery while Gary and Stephanie honeymooned in the Caribbean. Naturally, Avery had been reluctant to be away from her friends, and Betty had been a bit apprehensive about caring for a girl she barely knew, but by the end of the two weeks, they’d become fast friends. Avery had even cried when it was time to go home.

Over the following few years, Avery usually spent at least two weeks of her summer vacation at Betty’s home. And sometimes spring break as well. But everything seemed to change when Avery turned sixteen. That was when, according to Betty’s son, Avery became a “wild child.” And Gary worried that his stepdaughter’s strong will would be too much for his aging mother. Just the same, Betty missed those visits, and over the years she continued to send Avery cards and gifts, and occasionally money, for birthdays, holidays, and graduation. Betty seldom got a thank-you in return, but she figured young people weren’t trained in the social graces very much these days.

As Betty pulled into her driveway, then carefully parked her car in the garage again, her thoughts returned to Jack Jones. Suddenly she wondered just how she planned to present her eccentric “gifts” to her neighbor. More than that, she wondered how he would receive them. Besides being rude and inconsiderate and painfully private, Jack Jones struck her as being an extremely proud young man, and stubborn too. For all she knew, he might throw her silly purchases right back in her face. Really, it was a crazy idea—what had she been thinking? Perhaps the best plan would be to simply forget the whole thing and take the items back tomorrow. Even if the store refused to refund her money, they could probably give her a credit. And so she carried her groceries into the house but left the doggy items in her car to be returned later.

Still feeling a bit silly, she stowed her groceries away—all except for the baking ingredients, which she lined up on the counter by the stove, just like she used to do before a full day of holiday baking. Then she stood there staring at the bags of chocolate chips, nuts, dried fruits, and powdered and brown sugar, and finally just shook her head. Had she lost her mind?

Did she really plan on making Christmas goodies to give to her neighbors—people she barely knew? And to share her homemade treats with the likes of Jack Jones? Was that even sensible? What if she were setting herself up for trouble? What if Jack Jones was a dangerous man? A criminal? It was one thing to love her neighbor, but what if her neighbor was a murderer, or a pedophile, or a sociopath? Should she take cookies to a man like that?

With a little more than a week still left until Christmas, she decided to think about these things later. Right now she was too tired to think clearly, let alone bake cookies.

Betty awoke to the sound of something knocking on the front door. She blinked and slowly pushed herself out of her recliner, thinking it must be that mongrel dog again. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone? Didn’t he know where he lived? She groaned as she made her way through the living room. Her arthritis was acting up, probably as a result of this cold, damp weather.

But when she looked through the peephole, not expecting to see anyone, she saw what appeared to be an attractive, dark-haired young woman. A scarlet-red scarf was wound so high up her neck that it concealed the lower half of her face, so it was hard to tell who it was. Feeling slightly befuddled and not completely awake, Betty just stared at the person, thinking to herself that those dark brown eyes looked oddly familiar.

“Avery!” Betty fumbled with the deadbolt and opened the door so she could unlock and open the screen door. “Avery!” she cried again as she embraced the girl in a warm hug and pulled her into the house. “I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s been so long.”

As Betty closed the front door and relocked the deadbolt, Avery began to unwind the scarf from around her neck. “Hi, Grandma,” she said in a tired voice. “Sorry to bust in on you like this, but I was, uh, in the neighborhood . . .”

“I’m glad you came! I’m so happy to see you.” Betty took the girl’s slightly damp parka and hung it on the hall tree to dry out, along with the snagged-up scarf that appeared to be nearly six feet long. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay . . . I guess.” Avery pushed some loose strands of dark hair away from her face. The rest of her hair was pulled back into a long and messy ponytail. Her skin seemed pale, there were dark smudges under her eyes, and without her parka, she seemed very thin and waiflike.

“Come in and sit down and get warm.” Betty motioned Avery toward the living room.

“Wow, everything looks just the same, Grandma.” Avery looked around the room with hungry eyes. “Nothing has changed.”

Betty laughed. “I guess that’s how it is when we get old. We’re comforted by keeping things the same.”

“I’m comforted too.” Avery sat on the couch and picked up a pillow with a crocheted covering that Betty’s mother had made for her years ago. Avery just stared at the pattern of colors—roses, lilacs, and periwinkle. “I always loved this pillow, Grandma.”

Betty smiled. “I’ll make sure to leave it to you in my will.”

Now Avery looked sad as she set the pillow aside. “Don’t say that. I’d hate to think of you dying. I don’t want the pillow that bad.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on going anytime soon.”

Avery nodded. “Good.”

“So, what brings you into my neck of the woods?”

Avery sighed. “I don’t know . . .”

Betty considered the situation. She didn’t want to press too hard, didn’t want to make Avery so uncomfortable that she’d be tempted to run off again. Better just to keep things light. “Say, are you hungry?”

Avery looked up with eager eyes. “Yes! I’m starving.”

“Well, I just went to the grocery store today. And I haven’t had lunch yet either. Why don’t we see what we can find?”

Before long, Betty had grilled cheese sandwiches cooking on one burner, and Avery was stirring cream of tomato soup on another.

“This feels good,” Avery said.

“Cooking?”

“Yes. Being in a real kitchen, smelling food . . . it feels kinda homey.”

Betty had noticed how grimy Avery’s hands and nails looked. Like she hadn’t bathed in days, maybe even weeks. “Well, everything’s about ready,” she told her. “Maybe you’d like to go wash up before we eat.”

Avery nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Soon they were both sitting at the kitchen table, and, as usual, Betty bowed her head to say grace.

“Just like always,” Avery said after Betty finished. “You still thank God every time you eat?”

“I try to.”

“That’s nice.” Avery smiled and took a big bite of her sandwich, then another, and then, in no time, her sandwich was gone and she was shoveling down her soup.

“I’ll bet you could eat another sandwich,” Betty said.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Betty got up to fix another.

“Grandma?”

“Yes?” Betty paused from slicing the cheese.

“Why is it so dark in here? Why are the curtains all shut?”

“Oh.” Betty frowned. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

So, as Betty grilled the second sandwich, she began to explain about her unpredictable and somewhat thoughtless neighbor. She tried not to paint too horrible a picture of him. After all, she didn’t want to frighten Avery. But she did want her to understand that the man was a bit of a loose cannon. “And now that he’s got this crazy dog, well, it’s getting to be even more complicated.”

“What kind of a dog?”

“Who knows? A mutt.”

Avery laughed. “Oh.”

Betty reached over to open the drapes that had been blocking the view of the backyard. But to her pleasant surprise, the dog was not anywhere in sight. “Hopefully, Jack has enough sense to put his dog inside,” she said. “Because it looks like it’s about to rain again. And as cold as it is out there, I expect it might turn into a freezing rain by tonight.”

Avery stood and began to clear the table. “I’ll clean these things up.”

“Thank you,” Betty said. “I appreciate that.”

“You go put your feet up,” Avery said. “Leave everything to me.”

“Now that’s an offer I cannot refuse.”

For the second time that day, Betty got into her recliner and put her feet up and was about to doze off when she heard something at the door. Avery was still in the kitchen, so Betty slowly made her way out of her chair, went to the door, and realized that this time it really was that dog again. In Betty’s excitement over seeing Avery, she’d forgotten to lock the screen door, and now the dog had wedged itself between the loose screen door and the front door, almost as if he thought it was a place to seek shelter. Betty had barely opened the door and was about to shoo it away, but the dog shot between her legs and right into the house.

“No! No!” Betty waved her hands. “Out of my house, you mongrel! Get out of here! Get out! Get out!” But the dog ran down the hallway and headed back toward the bedrooms.

“What?” Avery came out holding a sudsy saucepan. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, not you. That darn dog sneaked into my house. I was yelling at it to go away.”

“Oh, I thought you meant me.”

“No, of course not.” Betty pointed down the hallway. “He went that way. Help me catch him.”

They finally cornered the runaway dog in the bathroom, where it cowered on Betty’s pale pink bath mat. Or what used to be pale pink before being spotted with muddy smudges.

“Bad dog!” Betty shouted.

But Avery knelt down beside the dog, holding its head in her hands and looking into its face. “Poor thing. Look how dirty and cold it is.”

“Yes, Jack Jones is a very bad man. He should be arrested for pet neglect, among other things.”

“Can I give him a bath?” Avery asked with hopeful eyes.

“A bath?” Betty gasped. “You mean right here in my bathtub?”

Avery nodded.

Betty wrung her hands. “But he’s filthy. It will be such a mess, the whole bathroom will smell like a dog.”

“I’ll clean everything up when I’m done.” Avery looked sad now. “Look, he’s so cold . . . he’s shivering.” She touched his muddy brown coat. “And he’s so dirty and matted and sad. Please, Grandma, we can’t let him go back like this.”

Betty got an idea. “Okay, you can bathe him, but not in here. You can put him in the laundry sink. That won’t be such a mess.”

“Okay!” Avery scooped up the dirt-encrusted dog and carried him through the house with Betty trailing behind her, carrying the half-washed saucepan in one hand and the soiled bath mat in the other. Betty deposited these items, then dug through her linen closet to find two old towels to give to Avery. By now the laundry sink was nearly full.

“Do you have any soap to use on him?” Avery asked.

Betty remembered her recent doggy purchases. “As a matter of fact, I have just the thing.” She headed out to the garage to get the shampoo and returned with all the doggy items in tow.

Avery’s eyes grew wide. “Where did you get all that stuff?”

“At the store.”

“For this dog?”

“I wanted to be a good neighbor.” Now Betty felt a little sheepish to admit this, since she’d just tried to chase the mutt out of her house. “I thought Jack Jones needed some help with his dog.”

“I’ll say.” Avery reached for the bottle of shampoo and began to lather up the wet dog. “I have a feeling this is going to take awhile.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Betty said. She went to finish up the nearly cleaned kitchen, then on to the hallway and bathroom to mop up the dirt the dog had tracked in, and finally back to her recliner, where she collapsed in exhaustion and closed her eyes.

When Betty opened her eyes about an hour later, she saw a clean brown dog lying in the plaid bed, wearing a red collar and snoozing comfortably. But where was Avery? Surely she hadn’t left. Not in this weather. And not after dark. Betty went down the hallway and noticed the bathroom door was shut with a light coming from beneath it, and she could hear water running. Avery had probably discovered that after bathing the filthy dog, she needed a bath as well. Hopefully, this meant she planned to stay awhile.

And if Betty had her way, Avery would at least spend the night here. Not that she could force her to stay longer than that. But Betty would certainly put her foot down if Avery made any attempt to leave this evening. And so Betty went to check on the guest room, the same room Avery had inhabited so many years before. She turned the baseboard heater up, fluffed the pillows, and added an extra quilt at the end of the bed. Avery hadn’t brought any luggage with her, nothing besides an oversized bag. Was it possible she had only the clothes on her back? And if so, why?

Betty went to her own room and retrieved a pair of pretty pink pajamas that Susan had given her last Christmas. She’d never even worn them. Not because she didn’t like them, but probably because she’d been saving them. But saving them for what? Well, she didn’t know. It’s just the way she was about some things. Perhaps she’d been saving them for Avery. Whatever the reason, she neatly refolded them and placed them by Avery’s pillow. Then she turned on the small light on the bedside table and smiled in satisfaction. Very welcoming.

“I hope you don’t mind that I took a shower,” Avery said when she emerged from the bathroom with wet hair. “But I was kind of a mess.”

“You did a good job of cleaning up that dog.” Betty nodded to where the mutt was still sleeping. Then she frowned at Avery’s soiled T-shirt and jeans. “But why did you put on your dirty clothes again?”

“Because they’re all I have.”

“You don’t have any other clothes?”

Avery just shrugged. “I’ll be okay.”

Betty shook her head. “No, you will not be okay, Avery. I know you’re smaller than I am, at least around, and I think you might be a bit taller. But I might have something for you to wear while we wash your clothes.”

“Okay.” Avery smiled.

“And the guest room is all ready for you. In fact, if you like you can simply put on the pajamas I laid out for you.”

“Okay,” Avery said again.

“And then we’ll sit down and talk.”

Avery bent down to pat the dog, and he looked up with what almost seemed a grateful expression.

“He looks like he’s got some terrier in him,” Betty said.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

“Well, I need to figure out how to get him back to Jack now.”

Avery frowned. “I don’t think that horrible Jack person deserves to own this dog. He’s got a really sweet disposition, and Jack sounds like a total monster. The poor dog’s hair was so matted and filthy that it took a bunch of shampooing and rinsing to get him clean. And the whole time he was totally patient. I could tell he liked the attention. But I could feel his ribs. I think he hasn’t been fed properly.”

Betty nodded. “I’m sure you’re right about Jack not being a fit pet owner, but I don’t know what we should do about it.”

“We should report him to the ASPCA.”

“That thought has crossed my mind.” Betty pressed her lips together firmly. She wondered what kind of a Christian witness it would be for her to turn in her neighbor. On the other hand, what kind of a Christian allows an innocent animal to suffer that kind of neglect?

She looked at Avery’s dripping hair and dirty clothes. “We’ll figure out the doggy dilemma later. In the meantime, why don’t you change out of those dirty things and get your hair dried before you catch pneumonia.”

Avery patted the dog one more time, then left the room. Betty sighed loudly as she sat back down in her recliner. Rocking back and forth, she pondered over what should be done—not so much about the dog as about her wayward granddaughter. Why had Avery shown up like this? And where had she been these past months? Should Betty call Avery’s parents? Or should she simply encourage Avery to let them know she was okay?

Betty looked over to where the dog was sleeping again. What was her responsibility for that poor dog? Avery was probably right, he did seem like a nice dog. Not that Betty wanted or needed a dog—she most definitely did not!

And then there was Jack to consider. Betty leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Only yesterday, her biggest challenge was to stop envying her friend’s new coat and to make an attempt to love her unlovable neighbor. But her problems seemed to have multiplied. Now she had not only Jack to contend with but a neglected dog and a troubled granddaughter as well. Oh my!