A Little Christmas Jingle (20 page)

“How do you feel about her?”

“I'm not sure,” Jack said, not ready to admit aloud that he loved her. The words he'd thought in the car were still too new to voice to someone else. Kat deserved to hear them first.

“I think you are sure,” his stepfather pointed out. “Son, it sounds like she might be the one.”

“She
is
the one,” Joyce announced with annoying certainty. “But Jack's late to the table in figuring that out. Well, one thing's for sure, you have to win her back. What are you planning to do to fix this? Groveling helps.”

Jack shook his head, remembering all those long talks he and Kat had had wee into the morning. “I'm a workaholic like her parents. I'm the wrong guy. She needs someone stable. Someone who will be there for her.”

“How is that not you?” Joyce demanded. “When did you become such a quitter?”

Sharon and Matt approached. “Are we missing a family meeting?” Matt asked.

“Jack screwed it up with Kat,” Joyce announced. Jack's fists tightened.

“But I like her,” Sharon said. “She put Julie in her place tonight like nothing I've ever seen.” Sharon relayed the story.

“That girl has gumption,” Nelson announced, and Jack heard the awe in his voice. “Enough to stand up to you and tell you to take a hike rather than keep lying to us. Jack, you've met your match. Stop fighting it. Go back over there and beg her forgiveness.”

Jack shook his head. “Now's not the time. Her court case is Monday. She told me this has all been a distraction. Her clinic is her life's work and her shelter is her passion. I can't insert my needs before hers. I have to give her space, even if that's the last thing I want to do.”

“Proving he loves her,” Joyce said. “Saints be praised. Finally.” She fanned herself, looked upward, and whispered a thank-you to God. “We can fix this.”

Jack admitted the fact that scared him the most. For the first time in his life, he didn't have an answer. “I don't know how or even where to begin.”

His mother covered his hand and squeezed tight, like she'd do whenever the tornado sirens went off when he was little. “Oh, darling, don't worry. That's what we're here for.”

It snowed the day of Kat's court date. Not enough to make everything a brilliant shade of wintery bliss, but rather Mother Nature tormented those who wanted a white Christmas with those flurrying flakes that instead turned everything gray, sloshy, and slushy.

Kat parked in a nearby garage, sidestepped the puddles on the stairwell, and managed to make it through security and into the courthouse with two minutes to spare. Amy Aiken, Kat's lawyer, stood there checking her phone, fingers flying. As she finished her text, she gave Kat an acknowledging nod. “There you are. Judge Harper is running right on time. We're up in fifteen minutes. Let's talk over here.”

Amy led Kat to a wooden bench, and Kat sat. She had worn her best suit, a conservative blue number with a skirt that fell to her knees. Despite the coolness of the vast space, under her jacket Kat began to sweat. She twisted the ends of her silk scarf.

“Let me review how this is going to go,” Amy began as she outlined the procedure and offered tips on what Kat should and shouldn't say. Then Amy checked her watch, announced it was time to go, and ushered Kat into the back of the courtroom where they watched the last few minutes of a personal injury settlement. During the brief moment between cases, people moved around. Some exited, others entered. The judge never left the bench.

Kat followed Amy to the defendant's table and sat nervously. She spread her hands out, memorizing the texture of the dark brown stained wood.
This was it.
She swallowed nerves, put her hands in her lap, and squeezed tight.

Suddenly a flurry of movement appeared to her front. “I need you to sign this,” said a familiar voice. Jack's brother stood there in a custom suit, paper extended. He slid it across the table.

“What are you doing here?” The words came from Kat's lawyer, as Kat was speechless.

“Hi, Amy,” Matt said in reply. Then he turned to Kat. “I'm entering on your behalf as co-counsel. Trust me. You need to sign this.”

“Okay,” Kat signed where indicated, uncertain as to what was going on.

“Perfect. Let me give this to the judge.” He set his briefcase flat on the table and asked for permission to approach the bench. Judge Harper motioned him forward.

Amy stood there, stunned, and then turned to Kat, tone accusatory. “Did you hire someone else?

“No,” Kat said. “I have no idea what's going on.”

Matt returned, took Amy's elbow, and guided her to her chair. “Fill me in quickly,” he said. “We have a few minutes.”

As Amy and Matt began to confer, Kat turned around and surveyed the people in the courtroom. She craned her neck to scan the crowd, then turned back around and sat back with a thump.

None of this made any sense. Why was Matt here? Why was he helping her after she'd called things off with Jack and broken their deal? And where was Jack?

Judge Harper banged his gavel, and Kat jumped in her seat. She touched her throat, tried to calm down. The case had started.

Real courtrooms don't mimic TV dramas, and Fred Fennewald's lawyer went first, presenting all of the neighborhood association's grievances. As Fred took the stand and said his piece, Kat tried to tune everything out. His words were hateful and personal as he spoke out against her. Then Matt rose to his feet for the cross-examination.

“I wish you would have told me about this,” Amy whispered. “If you wanted to replace me, you just had to speak up.”

“I didn't,” Kat insisted. “This is all Matt's idea. I had no idea he'd do this.”

Amy appeared mollified. “Well, he's one of the best there is. I hate going up against him. Be glad he's on our side. He's a shark.”

They watched as Matt decimated Fred, the judge overruling many of his lawyer's objections. Even though this wasn't a criminal trial, Matt still went about discrediting Fred, who appeared red and flustered by the time Matt said, “No more questions.”

“You're up next,” Amy told Kat, who wiped nervous hands on her skirt.

Matt returned to the defense table, poker-faced, and took a sip of water. “Defense calls Detective Jack Donovan.”

“Didn't see
that
coming,” Amy said. Kat agreed. Her heart soared, and then there he was, wearing his dress uniform, striding up the aisle and onto the witness stand.

She willed him to look at her, but he did no such thing. It didn't escape her that he'd come through, kept his end of their deal.
He'd done this for her
. He'd promised he'd help, and he had. He'd called in the ace—stepbrother Matt. She knew how much that must have cost him.

Kat's heart flatlined. She didn't deserve Jack. She'd treated him like dirt. She'd tossed him aside.
Oh God. What had she done? How could she ever make it up to him?

Jack spoke clearly and confidently about Kat's shelter. He went on the record with all that he'd seen. He spoke about the pet adoption event and how to this date all the animals Kat had placed had found forever homes. Then he left the stand, giving Kat one professional glance as he strode by her. She twisted her neck for one last glimpse before he went out the big double doors.

“Am I up there next?” she asked, but Matt was in motion.

“Judge Harper, may I approach the bench? I'd like to present a letter from the mayor, a letter he wrote in support of Ms. Saunders's shelter.”

Judge Harper waved Matt forward, took the letter, and read it aloud. Kat couldn't believe the contents. The letter reminded the court that the city did not fund its own shelters, and with the abundance of homeless animals, any regulation no-kill shelter of the quality of the Chippewa Animal Clinic should be welcome in the city, not closed. He also praised Kat's work with Jingle. When Judge Harper finished, he set the letter down and removed his reading glasses. Rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Then the judge gestured. “This is ridiculous. You heard the mayor's wishes, Mr. Banner. I would suggest you and Ms. Saunders reach a compromise designed to keep the character of the neighborhood all while happily coexisting with an animal shelter and clinic. Because I see no reason to continue this. I'm going to rule that the city grant the shelter permit effective immediately. However, I will give you ten days to mediate and find a harmonious relationship. In the spirit of the holidays and all.”

Kevin Banner leaned over to confer with his Fred. “We'd be happy to find a solution,” he said a moment later.

Amy stood. “My client would be happy to work with the neighborhood association as well.”

Judge Harper banged his gavel. “Then schedule a date and time to make the peace before you leave. This case is dismissed. The city will issue a permit.”

Kat felt giddy. She'd won.

“Thanks Matt,” Amy said, shaking his hand. “I have it from here.” She moved toward Kevin and Fred.

“I don't know how to thank you …” Kat began, rising to her feet. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. I've got a busy day. I have to run. See you at Christmas.” Matt grabbed his briefcase and left before she could stop him.

“What was that about Christmas?” Amy asked, returning. “You're going to his house for Christmas?”

“No. I'm as confused as you are.”

She gave Kat a long look of disbelief. “Our mediation meeting is the first week of January. I'll send you an e-mail. Have a great holiday. You've earned it.”

Kat thanked her lawyer, who headed for the exit, and stood there a moment before the next defendants approached the table. She grabbed her coat and exited, looking around the hallway as if Jack would suddenly appear.

But he didn't, and Kat drove back to her clinic. Even so he'd given her the best gift of all, her dream.

She was a fixer. She had to fix things between them.

#

Two days later, Christmas Eve, found Kat extremely frustrated. Jack hadn't answered her voice mails. He'd answered only one of her text messages: “No need to thank me. Busy. Promise we'll talk later.”

And that had been that. He'd proved he kept his promises, but as minutes turned into hours and hours into days, Kat wondered when he'd call. She'd replayed every moment of their relationship in her head. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she'd fallen in love with him. Had it been the night they'd saved Jingle? Or gone to the hockey game? Or when they stayed in and ended up in bed? Since the breakup, she'd watched every Hallmark movie on her DVR, crying at the end as she always did because she was happy, but now also for what she herself had lost. So she'd thrown herself into work.

“There you go.” Kat lifted Jinx, now named Mr. Hugh, and returned him into Lizzy's outstretched arms. “He's all better, but we can't let him chew on any more plastic bags, either. Okay?”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Schneider said. “I was worried.”

“Well, you did the right thing bringing him in for a checkup,” Kat said.

“He's such a great cat,” Mrs. Schneider gushed as a vet tech helped Lizzy put a reluctant Mr. Hugh back in his cat carrier. “He sleeps with Lizzy every night. He's been a godsend.”

“You have a great Christmas,” Kat said. She watched them exit the exam room and walked back through to her office. It was Christmas Eve, and she was booked solid until noon, when the clinic hosted its annual party. Santa would arrive and pass out presents to neighborhood children and pets.

Kat had five minutes between patients and went back to check on Jingle. Almost a month had gone by, and he was progressing well. Not needing as many intensive painkillers, he was able to lift his head when she came to his side. “Hey Jingle,” she said, and he licked her hand. “Aren't you a good boy?”

“The Kindreds are here.” Louise approached. “The tech's in doing vitals now.”

“Thank you.” Kat gave Jingle one more pat.

“How are you doing?” Louise asked.

Kat gave the same answer she'd given since Monday. “Fine. We have our shelter.”

“I meant with Jack.”

“Oh,” Kat said. He was constantly in her mind, but nothing she wanted to talk about.

“This is your favorite time of the year and you're miserable. We all hate it. We want you happy.”

Kat adjusted her ponytail. An a cappella version of “O Christmas Tree” piped through the speakers, and Jingle seemed to sigh. She ran her hand along his head one last time before she met her next patient. “He likes Christmas music,” Kat noted, shoving her right hand in her lab coat pocket, “and the Kindreds are waiting.”

“Not an answer,” Louise called.

Kat's spirits lifted as the clock inched toward noon. Like the pet adoption, this gala worked open-house style, with Santa arriving at twelve ten to distribute the presents. Many guests brought dogs sporting canine fashions from Santa hats and elf ears to sweaters embroidered with Christmas trees. “Looks like a great crowd,” her partner, Dr. Marshall, said.

Kat agreed,” letting the Christmas spirit invade. She loved this holiday and especially this party. Nothing would spoil it. So she made the rounds, passing out cookies and punch, petting dogs, and speaking with clients, until she realized Santa was running late. Angela had been in charge of the scheduling, as she'd done every December. Kat gave a quizzical glance, and Angela mouthed, “Don't worry.”

Kat rolled her shoulders back and relaxed. Angela wouldn't fail to have secured a Santa, the event's very important guest. In fact, she now heard a jingling noise, a tinkling of bells, coming from the hallway.

“Ho ho ho!” a deep voice boomed as a white-bearded, jolly man in a red fat suit entered. He heaved a big red bag from his shoulder onto the floor in front of the Christmas tree. Children ran over, excitedly calling “Santa!” “Santa!”