Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(66)

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you keep food without a refrigerator?”

“There’s just milk to worry about—I keep it right outside the back door.” She gave a limp shrug. “I don’t guess we’ll be here too long.”

“Oh. How old is the baby?”

“About six weeks now. Who sent this food?”

“Well, there’s a group of folks from the church and Jack’s Bar. Will someone clear the walk for you?”

“Don’t matter much,” she said. “I don’t think we’ll be going outside.”

“Nora, do you need a few things? Clothes for the kids? Blankets?” She looked around. “How are you keeping warm?”

“I run the oven now and then. Tell them thanks, whoever sent this over. I didn’t think anyone knew I was here.”

“Someone knew. I’m going to tell the pastor you could use some sweaters and blankets. Maybe he knows where we can find some things to help get you through the winter.”

Her lip quivered slightly and she nodded once, but said nothing.

“Do you have any family?”

“Not anymore,” she said. “I had a…” She straightened, trying to find some pride. “There’s no one anymore.”

“I think you could use a hand,” Becca said. “I’ll talk to Pastor Kincaid or Jack—maybe someone can help.”

“For the kids,” she said.

“There’s a can opener in the box, along with some plastic bowls, spoons, a couple of knives.”

She nodded again.

“Bye, then,” Becca said. She moved out the door right behind Denny and heard it close behind her.

Denny positioned himself in front of Becca, took her crutches and bent slightly at the waist. “Come on, gimpy,” he said gently.

She looped her arms around his neck, bent her knees to lift her feet out of the snow and he piggybacked her to the truck. Once there, he helped lift her inside. He went around to the driver’s side and jumped in.

She faced him, pale and stricken. “Denny,” she said, her voice just a squeak of emotion.

“We’ll get her some help,” he said, starting the truck. “Looks like the next house is just a few doors down. You going in this one with me?”

“Yes. Yes, I have to. I had no idea this town was so poor!”

“This town is like all towns, Becca—there’s a little of everything. And there are some folks real hard on their luck, but the people who can help, do. That’s worth a lot.” He pulled down the block, past three houses. “Here we are. There’s a porch—let me get you on the porch and come back for the box.”

Becca thought this house looked to be in better shape, though it could sure use some paint and repair. This time when the occupant answered the door, Becca breathed a sigh of relief. It was an elderly woman, and she might not be robust but she didn’t look thin and ill. She was dressed for the cold and had a shawl thrown over her shoulders. Her house was not rich but contained plenty of substantial furniture and the doors and windows appeared to have a good seal against the cold, at least on first glance. “Mrs. Clemens?”

“Yes, hello,” she said, and smiled with warmth. “Did the pastor send you?”

“Yes, ma’am. We have a box of goodies for you,” Becca said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you, child. I’m happy to take that off your hands—my social security just doesn’t go that far, especially with my prescriptions! But girl, I’m worried about that young woman down the street! Did Pastor send something to her?” She stepped aside so Denny could enter with the box.

“What’s her name?” Becca hedged. “I’ll be glad to check.”

“It’s Crane. I don’t know the first name, but she’s in a terrible way!”

The difference between this house and the last was shocking. Mrs. Clemens’s furniture was dated and worn in places, but there were homey touches, as well—doilies spread over the arms of chairs, a tablecloth, bric-a-brac, a nice big area rug that was a bit worn but still perfectly functional.

“That poor girl down there. I saw them move in when she had that brand-new baby and not long after, that young man moved out with a trailer and took everything with him. Everything! Furniture and rugs and even the refrigerator. I spoke to him, asked him what he was leaving his poor wife and he shouted at me to mind my own business or I’d be sorry.” She tsked and shook her head. “The shame! I told Pastor there was a young woman in need and I saw him write down her name. I’m so glad she got a box! She did get a box, didn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Becca said.

“I’m so glad! I look forward to the Thanksgiving and Christmas boxes all year long. But did she get a turkey? Because I don’t think they have enough to get by on down there, and there’s small children…”

“It’s going to be taken care of, Mrs. Clemens,” Denny said with authority.

The little woman grabbed Denny’s forearm in a vice-grip. “It’s gotta be taken care of right away,” she said emphatically. “I’m afraid they’ll freeze to death. I worry about that baby!”

“Right away,” Denny confirmed, patting her hand. “Right away.”