Santa Paws is Coming to Town by Roxanne St. Claire

Author:Roxanne St. Claire
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: South Street Publishing
Published: 2017-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

“Somebody should have called or texted by now.” Pru looked at her phone for the twentieth time since she and Molly had circled the large training area behind the classroom, shining flashlights, dropping treats, and listening for sounds of life.

Somebody sure should have, Molly thought. “Dad probably doesn’t want to give up,” she said. “But if you’re cold, honey, you should go back in with Gramma and Christian.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Pru said. “I don’t need to be at the ‘central command center eating cookies.’”

Normally, that would be funny, since Pru most certainly was a kid and she knew that Gramma Finnie was just making the moment palatable for a little boy on Christmas. But Molly detected an edge in her daughter’s voice, one that had been there a little too frequently the past few weeks, one that Molly didn’t really like or understand. But maybe it was the holiday or…hormones. She was thirteen, after all. PMS couldn’t be that far away.

“Well, you kind of are still a kid,” Molly said. “And this isn’t exactly how you want to spend Christmas Eve. Plus, it’s cold.”

“I don’t care about cold,” she muttered.

“We might give up earlier than we normally would,” Molly suggested, knowing there was no might about it. “Otherwise, we won’t have time for gifts and…what’s after that? A ‘light snack,’ as you put it.”

“Who cares?”

Molly stopped dead in her tracks at the question. “Are you turning into a smartass for Christmas, or are you unhappy with this particular turn of events?”

Pru closed her eyes, not answering the rare reprimand.

Yes, she’d turned thirteen this year, and yes, that made her a bona fide teenager. But nothing about Molly’s daughter had ever been cliché or standard. Pru had been born amazing, mature, organized…good. She’d never given Molly a moment’s heartache, so why would she start on Christmas Eve?

Finally, Pru lifted a shoulder. “Whatever, Mom.”

Oh boy. She’d just gotten whatevered, and that couldn’t go unnoticed. It was nothing short of a cry for help coming from this girl.

“Prudence Anne Kilcannon. What is going on with you?”

Silent, Pru kicked some snow, then made a show of looking through the fence to the training area they’d just circled.

Molly’s heart dropped, and an ancient—well, thirteen-year-old—fear resurfaced. Was this the day she’d be confronted? How much longer until Pru demanded to know who her father was and why Molly hadn’t married him or even mentioned his name? The question, the conversation, the truth—or whatever version of it Molly decided to use—loomed large.

Not on Christmas Eve. Please, Pru. Not on Christmas Eve.

But what better time than when sentiments ran high and questions about family must hang heavy in a young girl’s head? She’d ask any minute, Molly just knew it. Would she be soft-spoken? Demanding? Tearful? How would she broach the subject, and how would Molly answer?

With the truth of course, difficult as that may be.

But couldn’t someday not be today?

“January’s coming,” Pru said, earning a weird look from Molly.

“As it often does after December.”

“January is a month of new beginnings.

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