Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(30)

The first order of business was an after-school snack—these kids had had a long day. Jo and Ellie served up milk and chocolate chip cookies. Mel Sheridan brought her kids, though they were too young to do anything constructive—they sat at a table with Dana and colored on a large roll of butcher paper. Of course, there was Christopher and about six other kids who regularly attended Sunday school there and played with each other around the neighborhood.

Becca showed them how to glue precut black felt to the flowerpots, making them look like pilgrim hats. The older kids turned them out like little factories. She cut the colorful construction paper for the younger ones so they could glue the tail feathers on the paper turkeys. And she worked on constructing the horns of plenty from paper plates, then showed the older girls—Danielle and Megan—how to crumple tissue paper into the shape of gourds. Because Megan seemed so shy, Becca spent a little extra time showing her the ropes, trying to make conversation.

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping your leg elevated?” Jo Fitch asked her.

“I forget, but it feels okay.”

“Forget less,” Jo said. “You don’t want trouble.” She pushed a chair next to Becca so she could put her leg up.

“How did you break it?” Megan asked her very softly.

“Oh, I was careless. I jumped out of my brother’s big old truck without looking first and twisted it funny. It turns out I’m lucky. It could’ve been worse. But I did have surgery and have a couple of screws holding it together!”

“My dad had surgery, too,” she said.

“Oh? Is he all right now?”

Megan shrugged and concentrated on her tissue-paper gourds. “Yeah. Except he doesn’t have his job.”

“Oh?” Becca asked. “What was his job?”

“Logger. He cut down the really big trees. He fell and got hurt and ran out of ability and they won’t hire him back.”

“Ability?” Becca asked. “Ran out of ability?”

“You know. What they pay you to live because you’re hurt.”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” Becca said. Disability. She wouldn’t correct the child. It was obviously an emotional issue. “But is he healed?”

She shrugged. “I guess. Except for his quiet spells. And his arm.”

“His arm is hurt?”

“Not exactly,” Megan said. “It ain’t there. But it don’t hurt, he said.”

“Oh,” she said. Sure. What guy wouldn’t have quiet spells, hurt on the job, left disabled, out of disability pay, no job? “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Three brothers. I’m oldest.” She pointed to the table Christopher occupied. “Jeremy is next oldest. He’s in first grade.”

“I bet you have tons of responsibility around the house.”

“Some. My mom has a job now, so we all have more chores.”

“And will you have to help fix the Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow?” Becca asked.

Megan turned her large, sad brown eyes up to Becca’s and said, “I don’t know. My dad said he ain’t interested in no town turkey.”

Becca was completely baffled. “What’s a town turkey?”

“It’s the one you get from Jack and the church because you can’t buy your own.”

Here was something Becca hadn’t exactly run up against in her school; it was a charter school and it was quite expensive. They gave out a few scholarships, but they didn’t go to children who lived on the brink of poverty, but rather to the kids whose folks earned a living, just not enough of a living to put their kids in an expensive private school. Her kids didn’t need a charity basket to have a Thanksgiving dinner.

She had another epiphany. Just like her stable and secure family life, she’d had a job in a safe zone. Oh, she’d had some challenges, but if she were a teacher in a town like this, there would be a much broader cross section of students who ranged from well-off to quite the opposite.

“Well, I hope you and your mom fix it up and I hope the good smells change his mind, because you know what? I bet a town turkey tastes every bit as good as the kind you go out and buy. And your decorations will make it smell even better!” She put an arm around Megan’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Hopefully this will pass and your dad will find a job. I’m crossing my fingers for your family.”

Megan smiled then. “I think you’re nice. I’m glad you moved here.”

“Oh, I’m just visiting for a little while. I’ll be going home to San Diego soon. But one of the best parts of my visit so far is meeting you.”

“Me, too,” Megan said quietly.

It seemed like the time flew, yet it had been almost three hours. At five, parents started showing up to collect their kids and their crafts. When Becca saw a woman in a pink waitress uniform giving Megan a hug and helping her into her coat, she assumed that was her mother. She hobbled over and said, “Hi, I’m Becca. I worked on some crafts with Megan. She’s such a sweet girl.”

The woman’s smile, as well as her eyes, were tired. “So nice to meet you. I’m Lorraine Thickson. Nice of you to help out.”

“I had fun. I’ve been so bored, grounded with this splint on my leg. Once I met the kids, things really perked up for me.” She put her arm around Megan’s shoulders. “And this one is special. Thank you for coming today, Megan.”