Journey Back to Christmas. Leigh Duncan

Ruffin,” she called over her shoulder.

      As soon as Hanna opened the car door, Ruffin bounded from the front seat. Taking the steps three at a time, as only a young dog could, he leaped to the spot where a woman not much older than Hanna herself kneeled. Happy tears streamed down the young owner’s face as she wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck.

      “I guess it goes without saying that he’s yours,” Hanna said, smiling at the antics of the excited puppy. “I’m Hanna Morse. Ruffin knocked on my door tonight, pretty as you please, and asked me if I wouldn’t mind bringing him home to you.”

      “I can’t thank you enough.” The owner buried her face in the dog’s fur for a long moment. With a start, she jumped to her feet. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Sue Bunce. Please, please come in.” Sue opened the door behind her and stifled a giggle as Ruffin darted past. “Come here, Ruffin. Come here,” she ordered, but the boisterous dog kept on going.

      “Only for a minute,” Hanna murmured. It’d be good to get warm before she started the long drive home. But she wouldn’t stay. Not with the snow falling in thick clumps and the roads getting sloppier by the minute.

      Following Sue, she stepped into a parlor where a dozen or more Christmas cards lined a mantel edged with swags of greenery. The inviting scent of gingerbread mingled with the smoke that rose from the wood stove and bathed the house in the warm smells of the season. Sue didn’t stand on ceremony but immediately sank to her knees on the carpet. As if she didn’t trust her eyes, she buried her hands in the dog’s fur.

      “This is my husband, Hal,” she announced, nodding to the snappily dressed man who trotted down the stairs. “Oh, Hal! Isn’t it wonderful? Hanna brought Ruffin home to us!” She hugged the dog to her. Cupping the pup’s face in her hands, she asked, “Where were you, you bad boy. Hmmm? Where have you been?”

      Hal’s eyes crinkled and the corners of his mouth lifted. “She lives for that dog,” he said, though his own love for their pet was as plain as the smile on his face.

      “Honestly, I never knew how much until just now,” Sue agreed. She laughed when the dog pushed closer. His tail wagged furiously, as if he wanted his owners to know he’d never run away again. “Right, boy?” Tears glistened in the dark eyes she aimed at Hanna. “Gosh. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t brought him home. You’re our hero.”

      “Oh, no.” Hanna dismissed that idea out of hand. “Heroes change the world. I just did a simple thing.”

      Sue scrambled to her feet. “Well, you saved our Christmas, I can tell you that. Can you imagine how broken-hearted we would all be if we had to spend Christmas without Ruffin?”

      Hanna’s breath stalled in her chest. She knew all too well how difficult it was to spend Christmas missing someone you loved. She edged toward the door. “I should be going,” she managed.

      “Are you sure?” Sue crossed to the window, where she pulled the heavy drape aside. “Hanna, it’s getting really bad out there. Why don’t you spend the night here?”

      How sweet.

      She gave the invitation a moment’s thought as she looked about the room. Short laces tied in a pretty bow, a pair of white baby shoes glowed among the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. The comfy, red leather chair by the wood stove probably belonged to Mr. Bunce, while the Queen Anne’s chair beyond it was most likely the spot Sue preferred. A basket of chew toys stood beside a cozy dog’s bed in one corner. Hanna swallowed hard. This, she said to herself, this was the kind of home she’d hoped to make for her and Chet.

      “I couldn’t. Really.” Putting her best effort into maintaining her smile, she backed toward the door.

      A baby’s thin wail floated down the stairs.

      “Oh, that’s little Clara.” Sue’s face fell. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Ruffin was missing.”

      “I’ll go up and tuck her in.” Before anyone could argue, Hal headed for the stairs. “I can give her the good news about her puppy.”

      Sue took another quick peek out the window. “Won’t you please stay the night? The snow is really coming down.”

      “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t live far. Just over on Elm Street.” Hanna pulled on her gloves. With a young child, as well as an active dog to take care of, Sue needed an overnight guest as much as they all needed another snow storm.

      “Are you sure there’s no way we can thank you?” Sue trailed her to the door.

      “You already have.” Knowing that Ruffin would share the holiday with his family was thanks enough. “Merry Christmas.”

      “You, too. Drive safe.” One hand clutching Ruffin by the collar, Sue waved goodbye.

      “I will,” Hanna promised as she let herself out.

      On the front porch, she sucked in a surprised gasp. During the short time she’d spent inside, the storm had transformed the landscape into a winter wonderland. Tall trees bent under the weight of the falling snow. A thick layer of white made it difficult to see where the driveway ended and the street began. Overhead, cloud cover obscured the stars.

      “Oh!” With the storm raging, Toby wouldn’t get to see the De Vico Comet tonight after all. She hoped her favorite patient wouldn’t be too disappointed.

      She hesitated for another second, wondering if she’d made a huge mistake by turning down Sue’s hospitality. But the thought of spending the night with the Bunces, of watching the family enjoy the life she’d dreamed of sharing with Chet, was too much, so, steeling herself against the cold, she headed for her car.

      With several inches of snow on the ground, getting out of the driveway presented a challenge, but she overcame it. Creeping along well below her normal speed, she half expected conditions to improve once she reached the center of town. But a gust of gut-tightening wind buffeted the car as she turned onto Main Street. The wiper blades lost ground against the mix of snow and ice that fell harder and thicker with every passing moment. She urged the blades to swish back and forth faster. Her breath fogged the windows, reducing her view of the world beyond the glass to two small half circles. Thunder rolled above her. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened until her hands ached.

      Even though it meant she didn’t have to worry about traffic, the fact that hers was the only car on the road made her heart race. Forcing herself to stay calm, she overruled the little voice in her head that goaded her to drive faster, faster. Instead, she eased her foot from the gas pedal until the big Hudson moved at a snail’s pace. Still, that wasn’t enough. Her breath froze in her chest as the tires skidded across an icy patch. The car shimmied. The steering wheel slid beneath her fingers. She grabbed for it and held on tight, but the big car only spun in a lazy circle. It landed with a metal-rending thump in a snow drift. The engine ticked.

      Hanna shuddered out a breath. She flexed her fingers, wiggled her feet. Nothing hurt. She hadn’t been injured; she had that much to be thankful for.

      She goosed the gas. A loud whine came from the rear of the car. The tires spun in useless circles on the ice.

      With a groan, she shifted into reverse and, offering up a little prayer, pressed on the gas. The car didn’t budge.

      She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Sitting here wasn’t the answer. Long before morning, she’d run out of gas. Without gas, the heater that barely kept the cold at bay would quit altogether. If that happened, she’d freeze to death while the blizzard howled around her. Much as she’d rather stay put, she needed to get someplace warm and dry.

      A deep pile of snow blocked her door. Unable to open it, she slid across the front seat, forced the passenger side door open, and climbed out into the drift. Ice spilled over the tops of her shoes and melted onto her hose. She shivered as the harsh wind whipped her hair. Clamping a hand on her hat, she struggled through the snow bank to an area where the wet powder lay only a foot or so deep. With everything covered