The Christmas Hope(19)

I heard scratches at the door and knew Girl was ready to come back in. I opened the door and the branches of a spruce tree greeted me. “Are you going to ask me in?” a voice asked behind the tree.

“I never ask strange trees in,” I said.

Roy poked his head out from behind the tree. “Get out of the way!” He pushed the tree through the door and dropped it onto the floor. Girl bounded into the house and jumped over the tree.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Roy took his hat off and wiped his forehead with it. “Whew,” he said, wiping the sweat from his neck. “Either I’m out of shape or I’m out of shape. It’s one of the two.”

I smiled and looked at him, waiting for an answer.

“I had to take Jamie Kramer back to Wesley House early this morning.”

I nodded, listening. I knew he was aware of what I had done.

“I went into the office and they asked what happened to your case. The little girl you were supposed to drop off last night. I told them that one of your foster families called you on your way to Wesley House and you were able to take the child there instead. Said you must have forgotten to call and let them know.”

I leaned against the wall. “You lied?”

“I figured I must have had a good reason.” He raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t I?”

“This is her first Christmas without her mother. I know it’s against policy but for whatever reason I just couldn’t take her there last night. Not this close to Christmas.”

“I knew I had a good reason.” Roy knew it was risky but he didn’t say anything. A social worker had taken a child home years ago, long before I ever joined the department, and the child fell down the stairs of the basement and broke his leg. After that, it became departmental policy that social workers could not take a child home under any circumstances. There was just too great a risk that the child could get hurt. We all followed the policy but off the record we had, at some time or another, taken a child home for a meal or a bath or an overnight stay. Sometimes it’s just the right thing to do.

I looked down at the tree. “What’s this?”

Roy picked up the tree and dragged it into the living room. “This is a Christmas tree. People decorate them during this time of year and put gifts under them.”

I smiled. Roy didn’t want Emily to wake up in a house without Christmas spirit. Roy tried to be gruff and rough around the edges but everyone who worked with him knew otherwise. He had a big soul and a bigger heart.

“It was tradition in our house to always put the tree up on the day after Thanksgiving. My grandkids helped me put my tree up this year.” He stopped and looked at the tree. “Every child should put a Christmas tree.”

“You’re a good person, you know that, Roy Braeden?”

He waved his hand to hush me. “Come on, now, I need to get going. I’m supposed to watch my grandkids today. Do you have decorations?”

I thought for a moment and grimaced.

He shook his head and opened the front door, reaching for several boxes and bags on the porch. Roy had everything we’d need to decorate the tree.

“Did you buy all these?”

“Well, at some point I did. I’ve been married twice, you know!”

I laughed and helped drag in the rest of the boxes. “She might not want to,” I said, rummaging through a bag.

“Yes, she will,” he said. “Kids love Christmas, no matter how sad their circumstances might be.” He placed the tree in a stand in the corner, making sure it was straight. “Why in the world do people have to deal with death during the Christmas … ?” He stopped and looked at me.

“Death doesn’t take a holiday,” I said, opening a box of bulbs.

Roy pulled a large reindeer out of a box and set it on the hearth. “His nose used to glow until my grandsons performed rhinoplasty surgery on him a few years ago. He’s seen better days but kids still love him. After his surgery we named him Warren because it’s a name as dull as his nose.”

Roy pulled a miniature jewelry box out of a bag and handed it to me. “Could you wrap this and give it to her? She can open it now or wait for Christmas—whatever she wants to do. My granddaughter loves her jewelry box like this. It’s filled with all sorts of gaudy beads and rings and there’s a little ballerina that spins around. Do you have wrapping paper?”

I shook my head and Roy sighed, burrowing through another bag. He handed me a roll. “There’s plenty there for you and Mark to wrap up presents for each other as well. I hear married couples still do that.”

I walked Roy to the door and stretched to kiss his cheek. “You’re just like a jolly black Santa.”