Delivering His Gifts: A Mountain Man's Baby Christmas Romance(2)

I stepped onto the porch and remembered the groceries. I’d carry those in when I went back inside. I walked down the steps, and just as I suspected, the teens were in front of Calvin’s house, right at the edge of his property, in the street, preparing to light another firecracker.

“Wait, stop,” I called out, throwing a hand up in their direction.

The two boys stopped what they were doing and looked up at me. I remembered being that age - around fourteen or so. Living in a small town, there wasn’t much to do. While I wouldn’t have argued with someone had they asked to stop shooting off fireworks, I knew many guys my age who wouldn’t give a shit. I prayed these boys were raised right, more like my brothers and me. There was a chubby redhead and scrawny blonde kid with glasses. The blonde was holding the firecrackers.

“Yes sir?” the redheaded one asked.

Sir. Well, that’s a good start, I thought to myself.

I walked to the gate, and they met me at the other side. I smiled at them, hoping to ease them into what I was about to say.

“Listen, the old man who lives here, he’s a war vet. He fought in Vietnam and suffers from PTSD. Sometimes, when he hears things like explosions, it takes him back to the war, you know what I mean?” I asked. They nodded, and I continued. “It’s not a good memory, trust me, boys. It freaks the old man out.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t know,” the blonde kid said, staring down at the fireworks in his hand.

“Yeah, I know you didn’t know. He doesn’t really like to talk about it, or talk to anyone, ever, for that matter,” I said with a chuckle. “But I’d appreciate it if you could take the fireworks somewhere else, away from his house. It would help him a lot.”

“Sure, yeah,” the blonde said, tucking the remaining fireworks into his backpack. “We’ll head over to Patrick’s house on the other side of town.”

“Yeah, my mom’s making roast for dinner tonight, said I should invite you over anyway,” the redhead, who I assumed was named Patrick, said.

“Perfect,” I said. “I appreciate it, you two.”

I held out my hand to the blonde one, and he seemed surprised, then shook it. The redhead was quicker to accept my hand, and I waved them off. The two boys walked down the street, and I marveled at how easy that had been. Good kids, I thought, thankful it had gone well. Hopefully, their departure meant less stress for Calvin. Things had already been tough, with him losing his home in the woods to the flooding and all and having to move to a new place in the middle of town. A lot more traffic, more noise - I knew it wasn’t easy on him. But hopefully I made it a little bit easier, at least for as long as he stayed here.

I returned to the house and grabbed the groceries on my way inside. Calvin was sitting up, and he appeared to be comfortable and calm.

“I’ll put these away and be right back,” I said.

“I told you not to buy me any more groceries,” the old man grouched.

“And I told you it’s not a problem,” I retorted. “I like helping a fellow vet. We gotta stick together.”

I walked into the kitchen and began putting the food away, just simple soups, some cereal, some sandwich fixings. Calvin didn’t like to cook much, said it was a waste when it was just himself living there. For the first few weeks, I’d bought him fresh produce, only for it to end up in the trash can week after week. He subsisted on ham sandwiches and vegetable soup, which was an upgrade over the ramen he was living off before.

As I closed the door to the refrigerator, a photo caught my eye. A picture of Calvin from a few years ago with a big, black dog by his side. I had seen it many times before, and Calvin had told me the story behind it, but the photo and the story gave me an idea.

I went back into the living room. “How long has Bear been gone?”

“Three years now,” Calvin said with a sigh. “Still miss that damned dog every day too.”

I took a seat in the chair next to the sofa. “He helped you a lot, didn’t he?”

“That he did,” he said with a sage nod. “He always seemed to know when something was wrong…always knew exactly what he needed to do to comfort me too.”

“He was an emotional support dog, correct?”

“He was. Though he wasn’t formally trained,” he said proudly. “He was just a natural.”

“Have you ever thought about getting another dog?”

Calvin seemed to mull it over. “If I could find one as good as Bear, hell yeah,” he said. “Problem is, I wouldn’t even know where to look.”

Calvin needed someone, that much was clear. I also knew that emotional support animals could do a lot of good for people like Calvin. Properly trained, a dog might also be able to help with some of his mobility issues.

“What if I could find you a trained emotional support dog? Would you like that?”

Calvin narrowed his gaze and pointed at me. “I don’t want you spending any money on me, Mason. We’ve been through this.”

“I know, I know,” I placated, holding both hands up. “But just like with the prosthetic, there’s likely a charity that can help you.”

I’d never told him that I’d paid for the prosthetic. He wouldn’t have let me. And I wouldn’t tell him if I had to pay for the dog either. I had more money than I’d ever need thanks to an inheritance from my dad. My father had been a successful businessman and left my brothers and me millions. I preferred a simple life - give me a piece of land with a cozy cabin on it and I had everything I’d ever need. Why not use the money for good instead of letting it sit in an account forever? I didn’t have kids, had no one to leave it to. Sure, I had some nieces and nephews on the way, but they would get their dads’ money.

Calvin knew all of this, yet being the stubborn old man that he was, still refused the help. Which is why I had to lie to him. I hated it, but it was the difference between him getting the help he needed or him languishing in loneliness.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for dogs. Bear wasn’t my first,” Calvin confessed, his voice almost distant as if he was thinking about long ago. “Growing up, I also had a hunting dog named Red. He was my best friend. Never thought another dog could come close to what we had, then some jackass abandoned a little black pup on the road near my house and well, the rest is history.”

A dog just might be the answer. It would help with his loneliness, as well as his emotional support and mobility needs. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?

I pulled out my phone and started researching. I typed Emotional Support Dogs near Liberty, Utah. The first link I pulled up was for Safe Haven Animal Rescue. I almost scrolled past, thinking it was just a rescue site, when I read, “Board-certified animal trainer, Danielle Baker, has been training emotional support and service dogs for ten years. She’s an expert at picking out dogs suited for service work, and her passion is helping both humans and animals live better lives. She is happy to assist with all of your training needs.”

A rescue owned by a dog trainer. Talk about two birds with one stone. I quickly google her name, looking for any reviews.

“Danielle is a life-saver. My little boy has seizures, and she not only found us the perfect rescue, but she also trained him to alert us whenever he’s about to have a seizure. It’s allowed our son to have the freedom to be a kid again.”

“We’d heard about Danielle’s stellar reviews, so we drove all the way from Colorado to utilize her services. She really is the best in the industry as all the other reviews say!”

One of the best in the industry, right in our own backyard. I took note of the address and decided it would be worth stopping by, just to see what she had to say.

A sound pulled me away from my research, and I looked up to find Calvin fast asleep on the couch, snoring loudly. I draped a blanket over him and made sure to close the window in the living room before I left.

There was still light in the sky, so I decided to make the most of the day and drove to the address I’d found on the internet for the rescue. As soon as I turned down the road leading to the place, however, my stomach dropped. I knew the spot well because just a couple months prior, the entire area had been flooded due to some of the worst rain we’d ever seen coupled with a broken dam.

Homes were left in ruins along the road. Trees were washed away. Debris still littered some of the properties along the road. It was the same area that Calvin had once lived before the flood took his trailer and destroyed almost everything he’d owned. He had been forced to live on the streets until I talked to him one day outside the diner and realized I couldn’t just give him a dollar and walk away. His social security and military disability didn’t cover much, so I helped him into his new home - made sure it was furnished and everything. But I didn’t know where everyone else had landed. Hopefully they had homes too.

I also feared the worst for the rescue. The site had mentioned that it was closed, but it was hard to believe it was salvaged.

My GPS chimed, “Destination is on the right in half a mile.”

“I guess I’ll find out if it’s still operating,” I told myself.

There was a sign alongside the road, damaged and barely hanging on. I pulled into the driveway and drove up a steep hill, and I thought maybe the hill had saved the property - but all hope was squashed as soon as I saw the place.