The Perfect Gift by Annette Dashofy

No two words strike greater fear in my heart than freezing rain, which were exactly the words the weather forecasters had been using all week for Christmas Eve.

I had a mental image of what my first Christmas as a married woman would be like. Pete and I would spend the night before the holiday snuggled on the sofa in front of a fire. Our friend, Lauren Sanders, and her foster son, Marcus, would come over Christmas morning to open gifts and have a nice lunch. 

An ice storm did not fit with my plan. 

At first, I refused to panic. Different “radar models” showed anywhere from a half inch of ice to none at all. I’d take that last one, please. But as Christmas Eve approached, it appeared Mother Nature didn’t give a fig about my preference. 

I put in half a day of work at the Coroner’s Office, grateful we only had to deal with one autopsy. I tackled paperwork until noon and decided the rest could wait. I sent my staff home and headed to the farm through a steady rainfall. By the time I reached the narrow backroad on which I lived, I noticed a shimmer of ice clinging to trees, shrubs, and barbed wire fencing at the road’s edge.

I made the turn into my driveway and felt my Subaru’s usually sure-footed tires slip ever so slightly. Not good. 

I spotted Lauren’s sedan parked at the barn. Any other day or time, the sight wouldn’t surprise me. She boarded her horse here and was one of my biggest helpers around the farm. As I parked next to her vehicle, the barn door slid open a few feet revealing my friend, her face etched with concern. 

I almost fell on my backside stepping out of my car. Clutching the doorframe was my salvation. “Holy crap,” I muttered. 

“Be careful,” Lauren called. “But I need you in here.” 

Somehow, I managed to skate over the ice-glazed gravel to the barn and stepped inside. “What’s wrong?” 

“Marcus came over this morning to make sure everyone had hay and fresh water. When he came home, he told me Jazzel was acting weird.” She led the way to her Arabian mare’s stall. “I couldn’t get him to specify what weird meant, so I came over to see for myself.” 

We looked into the stall where Jazzel lay flat out on her side, her flanks damp with sweat. I rolled the stall door open on its track and entered.

Lauren stayed in the doorway. “I called him and asked if she’d been down when he was here. He said, no, but she kept biting at her sides.” 

Lauren was new enough to horse ownership that she hadn’t experienced a colicky horse. I, however, recognized the signs. Grain and water untouched. No manure mixed with the bedding. “Easy, girl,” I spoke softly to the mare as I bent to stroke her face and neck. Careful to avoid being struck by a hoof, I dropped to my knees. I continued stroking and cajoling the horse as I leaned over and pressed my ear to her side. Straightening, I looked at Lauren. “No bowel sounds.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“Colic. We have to get her up and moving.” 

Easier said than done. Jazzel didn’t want to stand. I knew she was in pain, but if she tried to ease it by rolling, she could twist a gut, which could prove fatal. With Lauren heaving on the lead rope, me slapping Jazzel’s rump, and both of us yelling, we got her on her feet. From the next stall, Windstar, my gelding, nickered encouragement. Or concern. 

Or he wanted a treat. 

Ordinarily, I’d have taken the mare outside and walked her. But outside was wet, cold, and icy, none of which was good for any of us. 

“Keep her moving.” I made a looping gesture at the center aisle. “Do not let her lie down.” I started for the barn door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have a syringe of banamine in my fridge.” 

I expected her to ask what banamine was. Instead, she called after me, “Be careful.” 

I picked my way back to my car to retrieve my phone from the charger. Taking cautious baby steps, I made it from the iced gravel to the crunchy but less slick grass. However, I still had to ease across the flagstone sidewalk and onto my porch. 

I glanced at my phone as I kicked off my shoes in the kitchen and noticed a missed call from Pete. He’d left a text instead of a voice mail. Call me. Tapping the green icon, I crossed to the fridge, where I located the prepared syringe in the slot usually reserved for butter. 

My husband of ten months didn’t bother with the standard greetings when he answered. “Did you make it home safely?”

 “Yep. Didn’t slip or spin until the turn into the driveway.” 

Before I could tell him about our barn emergency, he said, “How upset would you be if I worked a double shift?” 

I should’ve expected the question. “No problem,” I lied. I mean, I’m the Monongahela County Coroner. Prior to that, I worked for the county EMS as a paramedic. Pete and I had been together for a while. I’m used to unpredictable work schedules and being called away unexpectedly. I was foolish to dream of being together on our first Christmas Eve as a married couple. “I’ll see you when I see you.” 

“Love you,” he said. 

“I love you too. Be careful.” 

Pocketing the syringe, I located Dr. Benton’s number and touched the phone icon followed by the speaker one. As it rang, I sat and pulled on my Muck boots. One of several preparations I’d made this morning was to strap on my ice cleats. 

The vet’s service picked up. I explained our situation to the receptionist. 

“Dr. Benton is on another emergency over in Washington County. With the roads, it might be several hours before he gets there. He’ll text when he’s on the way.” 

I’d expected as much. Long distance veterinary calls are why I keep banamine on hand. I thanked her and ended the call. At that same moment, the lights went out and the hum of the refrigerator fell silent. 

The trip back to the barn was less hazardous with the little barbs on the bottom of my boots, but I still stepped gingerly. Lauren had opened the big door all the way to let in light. She met my gaze when I entered. She looked even more concerned than before, but at least Jazzel was still on her feet, walking slowly up the aisle at Lauren’s side. 

“Power’s out,” Lauren said, as if I hadn’t noticed.

“Yep. Hold up a minute.” 

The moment Jazzel stopped, she lowered her nose. 

“Keep her standing.” 

Lauren lifted the mare’s head and watched as I uncapped the syringe, stroked Jazzel’s neck a few times, and stuck her with the needle. She didn’t even flinch. I thumbed the plunger home and removed the syringe. “Back to walking,” I told Lauren. 

“Did you call the vet?” 

“Yeah. It’s gonna be just you and me for a while.” I capped the empty syringe and set it on a shelf near the first aid cabinet. 

That was when we heard the loud, metallic thud. 

Lauren stopped and turned. “What was that?” 

“Keep walking,” I ordered as I moved to the barn door. 

At the end of my driveway, a minivan sat, steaming, its front end wrapped around my now broken mailbox post. I told Lauren what happened, stepped out into the freezing rain, and crunched toward the wreck. 

I recognized the man who stepped from behind the wheel and did the same crazy skating dance I’d done not long ago. Nick Hendricks lived about a quarter mile up the road with his very pregnant wife, Hannah. 

Wild-eyed and clinging to the driver’s door, he spotted me. “Help!” he cried out. “Hannah’s in labor!” 

I increased my pace as much as I dared. Seated on the passenger side, Hannah gripped the dashboard and was practicing Lamaze breathing, puffing her way through a contraction. 

“Get back inside,” I ordered Nick, not wanting to have to deal with a broken leg or hip in addition to a woman giving birth. When he happily obeyed, I asked, “Have you called 911?” 

“No. I planned to drive her to the hospital myself.” 

“How close are the contractions?” 

Hannah took one more deep breath and relaxed. She checked her watch. “Just under ten minutes apart.” 

From the backseat came a plaintive voice. “I wanna go home. Santa’s coming tonight.” Their five-year-old son, William, squirmed in his car seat. 

“Santa will find you at Grandma’s house,” Hannah told him.

“If we can get there,” Nick said. 

I took a long look at the minivan’s concave grill and doubted it was going anywhere but the nearest garage and auto body shop. 

First things first. I still had my paramedic’s certification but knew enough to call for help. I pulled out my phone and punched in the ambulance station’s direct number. My old crew chief, Tony DeLuca, answered. 

“Hey, Tony, this is Zoe.” 

“If you’re calling to wish us Merry Christmas, I’m gonna have to ask you to call back later. Like next week.” 

This didn’t sound good. “I’m calling because I have a woman in labor at the end of my driveway. Can you send an ambulance?” 

Tony’s laugh sounded hysterical. “All our crews are busy at the moment. With this ice storm, you’d think people would blow off their Christmas Eve parties, but no such luck. They’re out on the roads, or more accurately, sliding off the roads.”

 

“I guess I should have just called EOC.” The county’s 911 center. 

“Yeah. Good luck with that. Everyone’s running like crazy, same as us. Can you get your patient here to the garage? I’m holding down the fort, but you and I can handle a delivery.” 

I looked at the glaze coating the road surface. The medic units had chains for traction. My Subaru did not. “The reason the woman in labor is in my driveway is because her husband slid off the road into my mailbox post. Until a salt truck comes by, I don’t think any of us are going anywhere.” 

“Tell you what. The next unit that becomes available, I’ll send your way. Can you handle things in the meantime?” 

I guessed I didn’t have a choice but didn’t tell him that. “I’ll do my best, boss.” 

Tony chuckled. He hadn’t been my boss since I left Monongahela County EMS to become coroner. “I’ll call you when they’re on their way.” 

I pocketed my phone and met Nick’s worried gaze. Hannah was talking to William in a voice much like the one I’d used on Jazzel. A glance back at the open barn doors revealed Lauren continuing to walk the mare. 

I couldn’t leave the Hendricks family in a cold minivan, and while it was Christmas Eve, I didn’t think settling the expectant mother in my stable was a good option either. “I need to get you guys in the house.” 

Fifteen minutes—and one contraction—later I had succeeded in getting all three of them into my living room. My two orange tabbies, Merlin and Jade, lurked nearby, keeping a curious but watchful eye on the activities. 

No sooner had Hannah settled onto my sofa than another contraction hit. She gave a high-pitched squeal that sent Merlin scurrying for places unknown. Jade went on high alert but remained crouched in the shadows. 

Nick dropped to one knee, catching his wife’s hand. “Breathe, honey. Breathe.” 

William stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, his eyes as wide as Jade’s. Since Nick was managing his wife’s Lamaze breathing, I decided to focus on their little boy as well as on our current lack of electricity. Right now, the old house felt warm and comfy, but only because we’d all been outside in the cold and were still wearing our winter coats. It wouldn’t be long before the chill crept in around the windows and through the walls. 

From experience I knew it would be hours—possibly days—before the power company got around to our rural address. With ice coating the lines, outages were bound to be widespread making repairs difficult. 

I approached the child, turned him away from the scene on the sofa, and nudged him ahead of me toward the kitchen door. “I need your help. Can you carry wood?” 

“I guess.” He sounded doubtful. 

Together, we stepped onto the porch where Pete had stacked a supply of firewood. I piled William’s arms with some kindling-sized sticks and tackled the larger pieces myself.“Come on back inside,” I told him. 

One of my superpowers has always been my ability to start a fire. William watched silently, almost as fascinated by the flickering flame igniting the kindling, then bigger pieces, then the wedges of log, as he was by his mother’s occasional squeals and puffing breaths. 

I was pleased with myself when I finally had a nice blaze going, but the sense of celebration was quickly quashed when Nick cleared his throat. “Um. Zoe?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Um. Hannah’s last two contractions were only five minutes apart.” 

Oh, crap. 

My phone chirped with a notification. I hoped the text was from Tony saying a crew was on their way. 

It was from Lauren, who I’d completely forgotten about. 

What’s going on in there? I could use some help. 

I typed back, Pregnant woman having her baby on my couch. 

Looking up, I spotted William again watching his parents, his eyes bugging with terror. No five-year-old wants to witness their mother giving birth. I reached over and tugged his sleeve. “Hey, William. You have a pony, don’t you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So you know how to behave around horses, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

I darted a glance at Nick, who must’ve known what I was thinking. He nodded. 

“How would you like to hang out in the barn with my friend, Lauren, and our horses?” 

His expression was part excitement, part relief. “Okay.” 

I looked at Nick again. “You got this for a few more minutes?” 

He gave me a thumbs up. Hannah’s head bobbed in agreement. 

The trip to the barn wasn’t too bad. My ice cleats worked well, and William was small enough that I hoisted him off the ground and carried him most of the way. The barn door was still wide open, letting in the dwindling gray light as dusk approached. Unfortunately, it also let in the cold breeze. 

Lauren was leading Jazzel away from the door as I entered and didn’t look back. “What the hell do you mean, there’s a pregnant woman having a baby on your couch?” She made the turn at the far end of the aisle to walk toward us and spotted the boy. “Oops. Sorry.” 

I doubted William minded the minor cursing. He was too busy grinning at the horses peering back at him from their stalls. “William here has a pony that he takes care of. I thought he could give you a hand. Not walking Jazzel,” I added, quickly. The mare was well behaved normally but was also high-spirited. Not to mention cranky with a bellyache at the moment. “But anything else you need.” 

“Super.” Lauren didn’t sound even remotely grateful. I was, after all, assigning her to babysit while also trying to keep her colicky mare moving. 

“What did you need a hand for?” 

“It’s getting dark.” 

Yes, it was. And William couldn’t reach the storage shelf where I kept two battery-powered Coleman lanterns. I plopped the boy on a bale of hay and jogged to the feed room to retrieve the light sources. With them hanging on hooks on either side of the aisle, I turned to Lauren. “Anything else?” 

She passed me and slowed. Whispering, she asked, “Were you serious about…?” 

“The pregnant woman?” Unlike Lauren, I didn’t bother to lower my voice. “Absolutely serious. William is about to be a big brother.” 

His smile wasn’t very convincing. 

“Oh.” Lauren kept walking. “Nice.” She sounded as enthusiastic as William looked. 

Jazzel, at least, appeared more relaxed. “I have to get back inside.” I focused on the boy. “You can pet the other horses if you want, but that one—” I pointed at Jazzel “—isn’t feeling well, so you better leave her alone.” 

“Okay.”

“Close the barn doors on your way out,” Lauren called after me. 

I obliged before making my way back to the porch. Under the shelter of the roof, I fished out my phone and called Pete. 

“Hey,” he answered, sounding tired. 

“Hey, yourself. How’s it going?” 

“Well, the power’s out all over. There are about a dozen traffic collisions just within the township. Thankfully, none with injuries. Those are from slip-and-falls, and we’ve only responded to one of those because he fell in the middle of the road, broke his hip, and couldn’t be moved right away.” 

“Ouch.” 

“Everything quiet there?” 

I laughed before giving my husband a quick rundown of the current status. 

“And the ambulance isn’t able to respond?” 

I reminded him of those slip-and-falls. They might not be a police matter, but EMS? Yeah. 

“What are you going to do about Hannah Hendricks?” 

I sighed, and my breath surrounded me in icy fog. “Deliver a baby.” 

“At least he won’t be born in the stable.” 

I gave him a sarcastic laugh. “Right. Gotta go. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

I thought about calling Tony again but knew it wouldn’t do any good. They’d get here as soon as they were free. Instead, I gathered another armload of firewood. It was going to be a long night. 

When I stepped through the door, I nearly collided with a panicked Nick Hendricks. “What’s wrong?” I asked. 

“Hannah’s water just broke.” 

I shoved past him and charged into the living room. “How close are the contractions?” I asked as I deposited the wood on top of the stack. 

She gritted her teeth. “Two minutes.” 

How long had it been since I delivered a baby on the ambulance? Probably five years. And back then I’d had access to all the medical supplies stored in Medic Two. 

I tossed a couple of logs on the fire to keep it going before stripping out of my wet barn coat. Meeting Nick’s gaze, I pointed in the direction of the next room and the staircase to the second floor. “Go upstairs to the bathroom and bring down every towel in the linen closet.” 

“Do I need to boil water too?” 

What water? We had a well with an electric pump. “Towels first. And grab my first aid kit from the same closet while you’re at it. Go!” 

Thankful that I’d thought ahead enough to fill the sink and several plastic jugs with water that morning, I darted into the kitchen to wash my hands and arms. 

By the time Nick returned with an armload of towels, I’d moved Hannah to the other end of the sofa where it was dry—I’d been planning to get some new furniture anyway—and stacked pillows behind her to make her as comfortable as possible. Another contraction hit. I grabbed the towels and gestured for Nick to step in and do his thing. 

“William?” he asked through gritted teeth. 

I suspected Hannah was crushing every bone in Nick’s hand. “He’s petting the horses in the barn.” I told them about Lauren being out there too. I left out the part about the sick mare. 

My phone chirped with another text. I dug the device from my pocket. Please let it be Tony. 

Instead, it was from Dr. Benton. 

Heading your way. ETA one hour. 

I quickly fired off a thank you to the vet, then texted Lauren the news. She responded with a thumbs-up emoji. I tossed the phone onto the end table. 

Hannah let out another squeal. I checked my watch. Under two minutes. “I think it’s about time to rock and roll, folks.” 

* 

Darkness had enveloped the house by the time Baby Girl Hendricks arrived by the warm glow of the fireplace. I cleared her tiny airway, and she immediately let out the tiniest wail I’d ever heard. After I clamped and cut the umbilical cord, I placed her in Hannah’s waiting arms. Tears glistened in Nick’s eyes as he knelt next to his wife and daughter. 

“Congratulations,” I said and stepped away to give the family some privacy. 

In the kitchen, I lit one of the small battery-powered lanterns I’d set out this morning and washed my hands in the chilly water. The heat from the fire didn’t reach this far, but the warmth from watching a new life arrive into the world kept the cold at bay. 

From outside, I heard a distant rumble and clank and…was that…bells? Strains of the old Night Before Christmas tale echoed in my head. I crossed to the door and drew the curtain aside. 

The world beyond the window was a sea of black punctuated with a faint vertical line of light spilling from the space between the barn doors and reflecting off fat white snowflakes. I wondered how Lauren, William, and Jazzel were doing. 

An even brighter light feathered into the darkness where our road vanished into the tree line edging our property. Headlights and, I presumed, the source of the sound, which was growing louder. I snatched my coat, slipped into my boots, and stepped outside, quickly closing the door behind me. The rumble-and-clank was much louder. And yes, there were definitely bells.The advancing headlights revealed the freezing rain had turned to a fluffy snowfall. Seconds later, the Vance Township Road Department salt truck burst into view. The driver had decorated his vehicle with strings of decorative lights. 

But not bells. 

The truck wasn’t the only thing coming down the road. An ambulance followed, giving the lead vehicle enough distance to keep from getting pelted by salt. 

The bells, however, were coming from the third vehicle. Pete’s police SUV. Somehow, he’d managed to broadcast the jingling of sleigh bells over his PA system. 

That’s my husband for you. 

The second two vehicles turned into the driveway, swinging wide to avoid the minivan hugging my destroyed mailbox while the salt truck blasted its horn and kept going. 

The barn door slid open ever so slightly, and William stepped out, illuminated by Medic Two’s headlights. I expected him to be disappointed to learn the bells weren’t coming from Santa’s sleigh. But if he was, he hid it well. With the grace of an Olympian, the little guy skated toward me, arriving at the porch without a stumble. Despite the dark, his smile gleamed. 

“Jazzel pooped!” he announced. 

I choked a laugh. “That’s good.” It meant an end to the mare’s colic. I pointed at the kitchen door. “Go inside and get warm. Your mom and dad have something to show you.” 

He clapped his mittened hands. “The baby’s here?” 

“See for yourself.” 

He bustled inside as the ambulance and Pete’s SUV parked behind my Subaru.

My old partner at Monongahela EMS, Earl Kolter, and Tony DeLuca climbed from the medic unit. 

“You’re too late,” I called to them. “The baby’s already arrived.” 

“Everything okay?” Tony asked. 

“Other than having no electricity, yeah.” 

Tony looked at Earl. “Let’s grab the gurney.” 

While they headed to the rear of the ambulance, Pete trudged past them and joined me on the porch. He slipped an arm around my waist, pulled me close, and pressed a warm kiss to my cold lips. “The delivery went well?” 

“Thankfully.” 

“How are things in the barn?” 

“I haven’t been out there in a while, but according to William, Jazzel pooped.” 

Pete chuckled. “All righty then.” 

I looked up at my handsome husband. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here? I thought you were working all night.” 

“I am.” He nodded toward the disabled minivan. “I’m responding to a vehicle collision. Car versus mailbox. I was planning to just dig it out so Nick Hendricks could drive to the hospital, but from the looks of things, the only place it’s going is the garage.” 

“That’s my take on it too.” 

The roadway brightened again with more approaching headlights, these coming from the opposite direction. When the vehicle came into sight, I made out the shape of a large pickup with a boxy unit in place of a bed. Dr. Benton, no doubt. When the truck made the turn into my driveway, I knew I was right. 

“Looks like the rest of the cavalry is here.” Pete pulled out his phone. “I’ll leave you to take care of directing traffic. I’m going to call for a tow.” 

* 

During the hour that followed, Earl and Tony loaded Hannah and the baby into the back of the ambulance. Pete had retrieved the child’s car seat from the disabled minivan and secured it in the ambulance’s passenger seat, which William gleefully claimed. Nick rode in the patient compartment with his wife. 

Dr. Benton administered another dose of banamine as well as some mineral oil to Jazzel, just to be safe. Otherwise, he pronounced her recovered from her colic.

I offered our spare bedroom to Lauren, since she was exhausted from logging what had to feel like fifty-miles-worth of laps up and down the aisleway, walking her mare. She called her son and learned they still had power, so she gave me a thanks-but-no-thanks. “You’re welcome to come and stay with us, though,” she said. 

I returned the no-thanks. I had enough firewood to keep me going. And I wouldn’t feel right, abandoning Jade and Merlin. 

Pete stuck around until the tow truck arrived. But another collision—no injuries, thank goodness—beckoned him back to work. 

Although the madness of Christmas Eve had passed, I decided to stay up and greet the dawn. Bundled in blankets with both cats snuggled close, I spent what was left of the night next to the fireplace. At first light, I detangled myself from the felines, tossed a fresh log on the fire, and shuffled to the kitchen. We kept an ancient percolator on a shelf as a decoration, but today, I pulled it down, filled it with water and coffee, and returned to the living room to place it next to the crackling logs. Back in the kitchen, I drew the curtain aside from the door’s window to take in the sight. The storm had passed, and the sun topped the trees, sending its breathtaking rays through the snow and crystalline ice-coated branches. Mother Nature’s decorations beat anything mere mortals could create. 

Pete’s white Explorer appeared from the tree line. He pulled into the driveway and made his way up the sidewalk to the porch. I opened the door and stepped back, allowing him to enter. He shut the door behind him and pulled me into his arms. “You’re toasty,” he said, his breath warm against my ear. 

“Coffee’s on.” 

“I love you.” 

“You say that to everyone who makes you coffee.” 

“I do not.” 

We held each other and snickered. 

“I know another way you could warm me up,” he said, his voice lower and sexier. 

Before I could reply, my phone rang. “Hold that thought.” Caller ID showed the incoming call was from Nick Hendricks. I answered with, “Good morning, Dad.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied. “I had a minute and wanted to call and thank you for all you did last night. And to give you some news you might enjoy.” 

“Oh?”

“We’ve known Hannah’s due date was close to the holidays, so we decided on naming the baby Christina, but we didn’t have a middle name. This morning, we changed our minds and decided Christina would be our daughter’s middle name. Her first name is Zoe. Zoe Christina.” 

So many thoughts and emotions crowded my brain and my heart, I couldn’t settle on the right words to reply. Touched. Grateful. Overwhelmed. I stuttered out, “That’s—I—thank you.” 

“I have to go,” Nick said. “Merry Christmas from the Hendricks.” 

He ended the call before I had a chance to return the well wishes. 

“What was that all about?” Pete removed a glove and wiped a tear from my eye. 

I had no idea what my husband had bought me for Christmas but was pretty sure nothing could top the gift Nick and Hannah had bestowed upon me. 

Not that I was going to let Pete know that. “I’ll tell you later. For now, let’s see about getting you warmed up.”