Puppy Love for Christmas

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

All throughout the rest of the party, all the way home, and until he went to bed for the night, Christopher puzzled over the numbers Sabrina had given him. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling imagining 1-4-3 and the combination’s significance over and over again. The numbers couldn’t be from an equation because any equation could have the numbers one, four, and three in them depending on what you were solving for.

In math, 143 was the sum of seven consecutive primes, but was never the sum of an integer and its base 10 digits, making it a self-number. Why would Sabrina want him to be thinking about the sum of consecutive primes? Then he thought about Waring’s problem, which postulates that every positive integer was the sum of at most 143 seventh powers. But that only made sense if Sabrina knew who Waring was.

“143 is the atomic number of Unquadtrium,” he murmured. Then he brought his hands to his head and messed up his hair in frustration. “But that’s only a temporary chemical element and has nothing to do with solving what 1-4-3 means.”

He threw the covers aside and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He flicked on the light and went to his laptop. He searched for Marcus’s name on his list of contacts. Seeing that he was still online, he initiated a video chat. Marcus picked up after two rings.

“Hey, Math-whizz, you’re up late,” Marcus said, smiling his ever-wide smile.

“I can say the same about you,” replied Christopher.

“It’s Christmas Eve, bro. I’m waiting for Santa to arrive with my presents.”

“Isn’t it that Santa doesn’t come until everyone is asleep in the house?”

Marcus’s face puckered as if he had sucked on a sour lemon. “Then I’m going to bed.”

“Wait!” Christopher actually waved a hand at him in the universal sigh for STOP. “You’ve got to help me out first.”

“Okay.” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you?”

“What does the numbers 143 mean?”

The quarterback scratched his head. “Do you mean one, four, three?”

“Yeah, 143.”

“Not 143. It’s one, four, three. As in the numbers are separate.”

“Oh.”

“Where’d you hear that from?”

Christopher let out a long, suffering sighed, full of the futility of his endeavor to understand the puzzle. “Sabrina told me to figure it out.”

Marcus threw his head back and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Christopher leaned closer to the laptop screen.

When Marcus finally stopped laughing, all he said was, “Math-whizz, have you ever heard of Google? You’re welcome and good night.” He ended the call.

The screen returned to his wallpaper of the table of periodic elements. He quickly opened an internet browser, but before he could make the search, a tapping on glass broke his concentration. He looked toward his window. His eyes grew wide. Sabrina stood outside. She mimed lifting the sill. Christopher had locked it before climbing into bed. He closed his laptop then hurried to the window. He unlatched it and pushed up. Once the window was fully opened, letting the cold air in, he stepped back. Sabrina swung a leg into his room. It reminded him of the night he caught her climbing into his room sixteen years ago. The night he fell in love with her.

Like that night, Sabrina wore all black.

“What are you doing here?” Christopher asked. “Not that I’m not happy see you.”

“We’re getting Triumph back,” she declared, fists on her hips, legs apart, shoulders squared. A power stance if he ever saw one.

“We’re getting Triumph back,” he parroted.

“I know you understand what I mean.” Her curls bounced with every word she spoke.

“I do, but why?”

“Just get dressed. We’re doing this tonight.”

“I hate to ask this right now but what’s gotten into you?”

Sabrina looked him in the eyes with the unhappiest expression he had ever seen on her. Even more deflated than when she found out that Einstein was sick and needed to be put to sleep. That was a hard day for everyone.

“Because he belongs with us,” she said as tears flooded her brilliant green eyes.

Christopher said nothing after that. He marched to his closet and pulled out everything black he owned. The night was cold. They both needed to stay warm. He handed her one of his heavier jackets.

“If we’re doing this, put this on,” he said. “Your jacket isn’t going to cut it.”

“When did you get all bossy?” she asked, no more tears. He hated the tears. Would do anything to keep her from ever crying again.

He rolled his eyes. “Just put it on.”

***

It was a little after midnight when they made it to Mr. Parsons’ home. They approached the front yard and crouched behind the bushes. Christopher prayed to a power he didn’t exactly believe existed that no one would discover them. It was already late enough that no one wandered the streets of Trevor. Except for the two of them, which made things doubly suspicious. The black clothes and hiding behind bushes made matters so much worse.

“Are you sure about this?” Christopher whispered, silently thankful that Sabrina didn’t pull out ski masks like the last time.

“Do you think I’d be here right now if I wasn’t?” she answered in a whisper that sounded more like a series of hisses.

“Talk to me first about this so I get what we are getting into.” He licked his lips, nervous sweat covering a majority of his body. “You said you wanted to find Triumph a home.”

Sabrina’s lips thinned. “Yeah, so?”

He gestured to the white bungalow they were about to break into. “We did find him a home. A great home. It’s not like we’re rescuing Triumph from a puppy mill or something.”

A muscle jumped along Sabrina’s jaw. It was as if she didn’t want to answer the question implied in his statement. But eventually she did. “I got attached, okay?”

“I did too.”

Sabrina blinked at him several times. “You did?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Triumph is a great dog. It’s easy to get attached to him.”

“Then why am I sensing hesitation? Are you with me or not?”

“Are you willing to take away the one thing that made Mr. Parsons smile since his wife died? Can you live with yourself? Because I’m pretty sure if you rang the bell and asked for Triumph back, Mr. Parsons would give him to you.”

She sucked in a breath as if Christopher had insulted her. The truth had to be said. They both knew it.

He glanced over at the house. “Look, there’s a light coming from the living room. Let’s go check it out.”

Sulking, Sabrina eased her way out from behind the bush and ran at a crouch toward the window where the light was coming from. Christopher followed shortly after, staying as low as he could and moving as fast as his bent, still sore legs would take him.

When they reached the windowsill, they ducked beneath it, breathing heavily. Once they caught their breath, Christopher lifted up three fingers. Sabrina nodded. After the count of three, they slowly peeked over the ledge into the house.

The light was coming from the fireplace. Triumph was lounging on a doggie bed by the fire. A book lay open on the coffee table in front of the well-worn couch with crocheted throws on top of its cushions. The tree stood at one corner of the living room. There were a few presents underneath. No Mr. Parsons in sight.

The second Christopher thought the old man had gone to bed, Mr. Parsons walked into the living room with a cup in his hand. He settled onto the couch and picked up the book. Triumph watched him the entire time, mouth open, tongue lolling out from the side. Mr. Parsons called his name and Triumph bounded onto the couch and settled his head on Mr. Parsons lap.

After taking a sip from his cup, Mr. Parsons raised the book and began reading out loud. Christopher saw the title.

“He’s reading him A Christmas Carol,” Sabrina chocked out. She turned away from the scene before her and sank back to the ground.

Christopher sat down beside her. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against them. Soft sobs soon followed. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him.

“They look happy,” she said between sniffs.

“It looks like he’ll turn in soon,” was Christopher’s reply. “Do you want us to wait then we’ll see if we can find a way in?”

She turned her head and glared at him through the tears. “Are you seriously still thinking of going in there and taking Triumph?”

He rubbed her back with a gloved-hand. “I’m just trying to see if you still want to go in there and take Triumph.”

Her face crumpled as more fat tears rolled down her cheeks. In his chest, Christopher’s heart did the same. He felt for her, he really did. He knew Triumph must have meant a lot for Sabrina to go all this way to get him back only to realize that he had indeed found a home.

“Come here.” He gathered her into his arms and let her cry on his shoulder. The warmth of her was enough to chase the Christmas cold away. “You’re a good person, Sabrina Fairbanks.”

“You’re way better than me,” she said against his shoulder.

“I don’t think so, but tell me why you think that anyway.”

She pushed back and wiped the back of her mitten over her upper lip. Then she sniffed. “Because you came here with me even if you knew that what I was about to do was crazy.”

He bit his lower lip. “Actually, I was hoping that you’d come to your senses before anything illegal happened.”

The punch to his collarbone came swift. The surprise attack knocked the air out of him.

“Oh!” Sabrina covered her mouth. “Did I hurt you?”

“More like my pride,” Christopher winced out, rubbing the spot where her fist had landed.

“I’m so sorry!” She touched the back of his hand. “Let me kiss it and make it better.”

But as she bent forward, Christopher met her half way and stole the kiss. Sabrina gasped in surprise, but it wore off quickly as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought her lips against his once again.

Christopher was just sinking into the kiss when Sabrina pulled away. “What happened?”

“I ate a peppermint on the way over here,” she said in panic. Her hands roamed the front of his jacket. “Are you okay? Feeling itchy anywhere?” She took his face in both her hands. “It doesn’t look like your face is swelling like last time.”

A chuckle rolled out of Christopher. “I don’t think one peppermint is enough to cause that kind of a reaction.”

“But—”

“I think that drink had triple the usual amount of peppermint in it,” he said, cutting her off. “It was more peppermint syrup than actual hot chocolate.”

“Four, actually.” Sabrina pushed her fingers together.

“And I came prepared.” He dug into his pocket and showed her an anti-histamine. “I’ve been carrying one around just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“You kiss me.”

She nudged him. “Ah, you kissed me.”

“Does it matter who kissed whom?”

“Of course, it does.”

“And why is that?”

“Because this is the real kiss.”

Sabrina positioned herself between his bent legs and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. She pulled him forward until their lips met. Christopher went with it, giving in to what she had planned. He wasn’t one to complain when a pretty girl wanted to kiss him senseless. And kiss him senseless Sabrina did. She tasted of peppermint. Sharp. Sweet. And the salt from her tears.

Christopher never wanted the moment to end but end it he must because they were making out in front of Mr. Parsons’ house in the middle of the night. In a few hours it would be Christmas morning. Kids would be rushing to the tree in anticipation of opening their gifts.

It was the sudden chill in the air that finally pull them apart. They both looked up at the velvet sky. Sabrina laughed as she reached out, palm up.

“It’s finally snowing,” she said, huge smile. The tip of her nose still red.

“Mayor Stanley won’t be so bummed anymore.” Christopher pushed up to his feet. He reached down.

Sabrina took his offered hand. In one heave, he pulled her up to join him. The living room behind them had since gone dark. Dog and master had finally gone to bed. Sabrina looked longingly into the house one last time. The dying embers glowed among the ashes.

Christopher wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “Let’s go home?”

She leaned her head on his shoulder when she nodded. “Yeah.”

They turned as one and walked in step down the road toward the hotel. The night was so quiet. Nothing stirred around them. Christopher reached out and closed his gloved-fingers around Sabrina’s mitten-covered hand. She looked up at him and smiled. He stared into her eyes and knew he wasn’t ready to be separated from her.

“What?” she asked.

“What are you doing on the 27th?” he asked back.

She thought about it a second. “Uhm, I’ll probably be at the shelter, why?”

“Do you think Sharleen can spare you for a couple of days? Don’t vets get vacation too?”

“Well, I can always ask Marcy to cover for me.” She blushed. “Why? What are you asking me?”

“My company holds a Christmas Gala every year. It’s on the 27th and I want you to come with me.” He paused. “As my date.”

“Your date?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never been to San Francisco,” she said, shyness in her tone.

“All the more reason to go,” he encouraged. “I will take you to all my favorite spots. Come on, what do you say? Take a couple of days off. After this holiday rush full of events, you deserve a vacation.” He nudged her shoulder with his own. A friendly bump, but it changed the air around them. Gave it more static.

Tucking a curl behind her ear, she smiled once again and said, “Yeah, I’d love to go.”

“Yes!” Christopher almost danced a jig in celebration. “We leave early on the 26th.” He was about to lean in and kiss her again when Sabrina stopped him in his tracks with a hand to his chest. “What is it?”

“Did you hear that?” she asked back.

They waited in silence, standing on the side of the road. It was so deep into the night that not a sound could be heard. Christopher thought, did Trevor have urban legends? Scary stories about teens winding up murdered? Not to his knowledge. He was about to speak again when a small whimpering cut him off.

“What is that?” He looked to Sabrina for answers.

Instead of speaking, she moved toward the sound. Christopher followed. He grabbed her arm.

“You don’t know what that could be,” he warned.

“I’m not about to leave an animal in need,” she said, stubbornness in her words. “Especially when it finally started snowing.”

As if answering Sabrina’s intent to help, the whimpering grew louder. Sabrina fished out her phone and turned on the flashlight app. Christopher did the same. They panned their beams of light left then right. The sound was more insistent now and was coming from the side of the road.

A rustling, as if whatever was whimpering was also trying to move.

“It’s okay,” Sabrina said in her most calm voice. “We’re here.”

“There.” Christopher pointed at the white mound that writhed. There was a spot of red near it. “It could be a wild animal?”

“In Trevor?” Sabrina arched an eyebrow at him. “The only wild things here are the lobsters the fishermen bring back.”

“Actually, there are some moose here, bears, a fox or two.”

“Does that look like a moose or a bear to you?”

The mound whimpered again. Sabrina hurried to its side and dropped to her knees. Christopher was right there with her. The second she turned the creature over, he recognized it as a dog. A dirty one. No older than a few months. Not sure of the breed since it resembled a German Shepard but white and mixed with something else. It growled at Sabrina, but she was fearless.

“It looks like he was run over,” she said. “Poor thing. We’re going to help you.” She went into taskmaster mode. “Chris, we need to bring him to the Animal Sanctuary.”

“But it’s closed.” He should have known that saying it wasn’t going to stop Sabrina.

“You carry him. I’ll call Sharleen.”

“What if—”

She beat him to his concern by shrugging out of one sleeve of her jacket. With a sharp tug, she ripped out the sleeve of her sweater. Then she slipped the sleeve around the dog’s head, effectively muzzling it and covering its eyes while still leaving its nose free to breathe. Christopher gathered the dog to his chest, making sure to take care not to press its injured front and hind leg against his body. The animal struggled, clearly in pain.

“It’s okay,” he said in his most reassuring tone. “You’re going to be okay. I got you.”

He pushed to his feet despite still feeling some of his muscles protest. Sabrina was already on the phone with Sharleen. They began to run as fast as they could without jostling the dog too much.

Sabrina ended the call and said, “Sharleen will meet us with Marcy at the Sanctuary.”

“We have to hurry,” he told her, looking down.

The dog had stopped moving.