"let me help her up."
Carefully, he lifted the nanny, his arms under her belly and supported her for a minute or so. When he released her, she stood on wobbly legs, but, shaky or not, she was standing. And that was what mattered at the moment.
"Now we wait again," Rebecca said. "She seems to be ready to do something."
A few minutes later, the medicine had finally worked, and the little animal had rid herself of most of her burden. She wasn't crying any longer, and her tiny tail had even begun to wag a bit.
"What a good girl!" Rebecca said. She dropped to her knees and hugged the goat around the neck. "Your mistress will be so proud of you when she wakes up."
"Should I tell her?" Michael said, nodding toward Katie.
"I wouldn't yet," Rebecca said. "In another hour or two, Rosie will be feeling even better and ready to celebrate Christmas. Why don't you let Katie sleep until then."
Michael walked over to his daughter and tucked the jacket more snugly around her shoulders and neck. "You were right about something else," he said. "Even if I lose Katie someday, I wouldn't have missed having her in my life. She's given me so much joy."
"I can imagine," Rebecca said.
"I was so afraid to love her the way I had her mother," he said. "But just look at her. How could I help it?"
Rebecca smiled. "I know what you mean. She has a beautiful spirit. I fell in love with her right away."
"Well, that feeling seems to be mutual," he said. "All the way around."
His eyes met hers and the affection she saw there went straight to her heart, bringing a rush of happiness, quickly followed by the ever-present wave of anxiety.
It never went away completely... the fear of loving... of losing.
But something in his eyes gave her the courage to push it away. At least for the moment. She stood and
looked out the window at the sun, which was rising in a cloudless sky. "Merry Christmas, Michael," she said.
"Merry Chr—" He gasped. "Oh, no! Santa hasn't come! And he's spent the past month shopping and buying decorations and food to try to make up for the Thanksgiving Day Massacre."
She laughed and waved a hand toward the door. "Go, see to it that Santa takes care of business. We're fine here."
"Gee, thanks for reminding me." He hurried to the door. "Boy, if I'd blown this one, I'd have been on Katie's bad side for the next ten years."
"Katie?" a small voice piped up from the corner. "Somebody call me?"
Michael groaned. "Too late. I'm dead."
Katie sprang up from her bed in the straw, looking sleepy and tired, but delighted. "Rosebud!" she shouted. "You're standing! You're not crying anymore!"
She threw her father's jacket aside and ran to her pet. The goat's tail began to wag as she nuzzled her mistress.
"You made her well!" the child cried as she hugged the animal. "Dr. Rebecca, you fixed her! Thank you! Thank you so much!''
"You're welcome, Katie," Rebecca replied. "But I couldn't have done it alone. I had a lot of help." She nodded toward Michael.
Katie glowed with pride as she looked at her father. Clearly he had risen to the status of "Hero Extraordi naire" in her eyes. She bounded over to him and threw her arms around his waist. "Thanks, Daddy," she said. "This is the best Christmas present in the world!"
"You're welcome, kiddo." He returned her hug, then tugged on one of her curls. "But, speaking of Christmas ..." He paused to clear his throat. "You see, Katie, I've been so busy with Rosebud, that I...I didn't... I haven't had the chance to..."
"Let me guess," she said, rolling her eyes heavenward, "the guy with the beard hasn't shown up, right?"
"Uh...I haven't been in the house yet, but I strongly suspect you're right."
Katie's eyes softened as she looked up at her father, then at Rosebud, who was becoming more like her frisky self by the moment.
"It isn't important, Daddy," she said. "Rosie's all that really matters. You made her better, and that's what I care about." She paused. "Rosie and pumpkin pie, that is."
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