Bring Me Home for Christmas

Eleven




After lunch, Denny drove Becca down the street and carried her up the steep stairs, while she held on to the crutches. She could have stayed at Preacher’s house and even napped there, but she chose instead to be out of the way for at least a couple of hours. And Denny was thrilled to get her alone in that little one-room apartment over the garage. He barely had the door closed before he pulled the crutches out of her grip, whirled her around and had her on the bed, his lips hot on hers. He rolled with her until he was lying beside her, snuggling her close. They didn’t even have their jackets off before his breathing was coming hard and raspy.

“Don’t you have to work?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

“I’m thinking of a leave of absence,” he said, pulling her shirt away from her neck so he could cover her with kisses.

“I remember this about you… You’ve always been so passionate. Is this normal?”

“I don’t know, but I think you’re going to be stuck with this now.”

“Poor me…” she whispered, holding him close.

“Okay with you if I just chase you till you’re about ninety?”

“Only ninety?”

“You don’t know how hard it was to go to work this morning. How hard it is to think about going back this afternoon.”

“I’ll be here later, too.” It didn’t seem to be slowing him down. His hands were moving. “Go to work, Dennis.”

“Ugh…”

“Do you think you’ll ever have time to show me the place you work?” she asked.

He lifted his head from her neck. “Would you like to see it?”

“I would, if your boss wouldn’t mind.”

“She’d be thrilled. I’ll take you tomorrow. Bring a book—after a tour, you’ll have to wait for me to get my morning work done.” He sat up reluctantly. “I’ll go now, but I’ll see you later.” He closed his eyes briefly. “God, you smell good.”

“You’d better leave before you change your mind again.”

“Get a nap, Becca. Rest up.” He put her crutches by the bed so she could reach them and headed for the door. “I kept you up half the night. Sleep.”

That was exactly what she intended to do. She pulled the corner of the quilt over herself and with a smile on her face, she conked out immediately. When she woke, it was almost three in the afternoon. She pulled herself up, stretched and reached for the paperback that was sitting on the bedside table.

It didn’t take her long to feel like getting out and the only thing she could think of was Jack’s. By the time she got down the street, she noticed Danielle and Megan, walking into the church. Drawn to the kids, secretly hoping there was another activity she could help with, she followed them.

When she was inside the church doors, she heard voices. She had to manage a few stairs to get up to the sanctuary. There, at the front of the church, the pastor’s wife was talking to the girls as they were taking off their coats. “Hey,” Becca called to them.

“Becca!” they both said, beaming.

She made her way down the aisle. “More after-school projects?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not today,” Ellie said. “The bus just dropped them off and I have work to do. I’m Noah’s wife and the church secretary. While I finish up in the office, the girls are going to work on their homework in the conference room. Trevor and Jeremy are in the basement, hopefully staying out of trouble.”

“I can help with homework,” Becca said.

“We don’t want to be any trouble, Becca,” Ellie said. “You probably have better things to do.”

Becca laughed. “Well, I was going to go skiing, but it’s a little chilly for me.”

“What about Denny?”

“Denny’s working. I’ll see him at dinnertime. Really, I’d be happy to help with homework. I’m great at math and spelling and reading. Almost as good as I am with crafts!”

Danielle smiled enthusiastically, but Megan’s eyes shifted away and she looked unmistakably sad. Becca put a finger under her chin and drew her gaze back. “What? You don’t feel like help?”

Megan shrugged. “I’m not so good, that’s all.”

“At what?” Becca urged.

“Just about anything. I’m not that smart.”

“Well, I don’t believe that for a second,” she said sweetly. “If I help, maybe we’ll figure out your best subjects. Almost everything gets easier with just a little coaching and practice!”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Ellie said. “Go on, girls. Show Becca to the conference room.”

“Yay!” Becca said. “Let’s play teacher and students!”

Once the girls got their homework spread out and Becca had her leg propped up, it took her about ten minutes to see that Danielle was not just up to speed on her work but perhaps ahead of her class. Megan, a year younger and only in third grade, seemed to be struggling.

Becca tried to keep her attention fairly divided between the girls, but she really trotted out all her tricks to encourage Megan. She showed her a few simple exercises that would help her with the spelling words and her reading. “If you’ll copy this word ten times, sounding it out in your head when you write it, I bet when I ask you to spell it, you’ll get it perfect.” And, “Most of this adding and subtracting is just practice and memorizing.” And, “We’ll read together for a while, sounding out the words, and it will get easier every day.”

There was a problem, however. While Danielle was excited about performing for Becca, Megan was dropping little bombs that didn’t bode well. She said she was going to flunk. “Of course you’re not—you’re doing quite well with this homework!” She said her teacher hated her. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that. It would be impossible to hate you—you’re so delightful!” Becca said. And the one that killed her—I’m so stupid.

At first, Becca suspected the parents or siblings. It happened—words like dumb and stupid were tossed around the home and it hammered little self-esteems. But then her mind was changed.

Becca asked if she could look at some of Megan’s papers. She had a folder with at least a week’s worth of work tucked inside. In fact, it was a great deal of work for an eight-year-old. She flipped through the pages and saw something she didn’t like. On all the papers that weren’t perfect, there were painfully negative remarks from the teacher. You can do better than this! This needs work! Do this spelling test again! This is late! Frowny faces!

And on the pages that were excellent, no comment at all. Just a letter grade. A. B. No pluses, no minuses. No stars, no happy faces, no praise. No effort anywhere to encourage the child when she’d done well. Zero positive reinforcement.

Becca had a sinking feeling in her gut. This was sadly familiar to her. For her, it was fifth grade, then again when she was a junior in high school. A couple of teachers who made their impact on her by being ruthlessly negative. The fifth-grade teacher kept telling her if she wanted to get to sixth grade, she’d better apply herself. It didn’t take long before she believed there was a sound chance she wouldn’t promote to the next level and her stomach hurt every morning before school. The high school English teacher, who seemed to favor the boys in the class, told Becca’s parents that she “wasn’t college material.” The family joke was that it was lucky Beverly Timm hadn’t been armed! Both teachers from hell; both enjoyed long careers even though they were mean as snakes and made no effort to help.

Both times, Becca had believed her teachers hated her. What she eventually learned was that she was right! But the teachers actually disliked almost all their students and they weren’t crazy about teaching, either.

Once Becca was a teacher herself, she had a closer view. The great teachers outnumbered the bad, thankfully, but it was hard to get rid of the ones who hurt. Their negative impact was so subliminal, so pervasive. So powerful!

Fortunately for Becca, there had been a few teachers who made major changes in her life with their encouragement and positive reinforcement. At the end of the day, Becca graduated from high school with good grades, though she was nowhere near competing for valedictorian. She left college with a 3.2 GPA—a completely respectable performance.

She’d gotten very good reviews on her teaching, but the feedback that meant the most to her was from the kids, most of whom seemed to strive to impress her. And there were parents of second graders who thanked her. She took that very seriously.

The three of them worked on homework until Lorraine Thickson came to collect her kids. Her coat thrown over her pink waitress uniform, a great big purse hanging on her shoulder, she came into the conference room. “Ellie said you were working on homework,” she said by way of greeting.

“That we are,” Becca said. “What a smart girl you have here. We’ve hardly started on this week’s work and she’s almost ready for that spelling test!”

“Oh, that’s so nice!” she said, holding her arms open to her daughter. She leaned down and said, “Go find your brother and get your coat, honey.”

Once Megan had run off, Danielle following her, Becca faced Lorraine. “I’m going to ask Ellie if we can do homework together after school again. Would that be okay with you?”

A look of surprise and hesitation came over her face.

“I have nothing to do except elevate my leg,” Becca said. “And they’re such fun. I should probably ask Christopher if he wants to join us, too.”

“That’s awful nice of you,” Lorraine said shyly. “The teacher keeps asking me to work with her, but it’s almost impossible. I work five to five and—”

Becca’s jaw dropped. “Five to five? A.M to P.M?”

“The overtime comes in handy. My husband had a job injury and he’s home with the two little boys all during the day. By the time I get dinner and some chores done, Megan’s off to bed. I know she needs the help and Frank just doesn’t have the patience.”

“She doesn’t need that much help,” Becca said, shaking her head. “She’s smart. She just needs a little encouragement. I looked at her papers—she’s doing fine. Nothing on her papers that would alert me to a learning problem, though I only saw about a week’s worth.”

“She’s had a very hard year,” Lorraine said.

“She told me about her dad. I’m sorry—it must be hard. I hope things will go better soon.”

“Thanks,” Lorraine said. “That’s appreciated.”

“So? Is it okay? Can we have a little homework club after school?”

“If it’s okay with Ellie, I sure wouldn’t mind. In fact, I’d be so grateful.”

“I’ll check that out. I have a feeling she’ll be okay with it.”



Becca met Denny for dinner at the bar. Since there were no real cooking facilities in his little efficiency and given the fact that he helped out at the bar on most of his evenings, it made sense he would take almost all his meals there. During Thanksgiving week, the place had been fairly quiet—townsfolk had family obligations. But on this Monday night after the holiday, there were quite a few of the locals. Mel was there; Becca learned that it was pretty common for Jack’s wife and kids to have at least a couple of dinners a week there, often more. Jack’s sister, Brie, and her husband, Mike, turned up with their little daughter, making it a family affair.

And there were others—Paul Haggerty and his family. Denny’s landlady, Jo, and her husband. The preacher stopped by for a cup of coffee before heading home. Connie and Ron from the store across the street came out for dinner. Paige stole out of the kitchen with Dana and Chris to sit with their friends. There were a couple of ranchers who dropped by. The owner of a local orchard stopped in for a beer. The doctor Mel Sheridan worked with came over for a few minutes before going home for his dinner. Each time the door opened, Becca could see the gentle glow from the giant tree outside.

Becca met each one. When Denny introduced her as his girl, a teacher from San Diego, chatter started.

“We been trying to get a teacher around here for a long time,” someone said.

“We?” Jack asked. “Old Hope McCrea was looking but I don’t know that anyone else was, and Hope’s gone now.”

“Did she move?” Becca asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” Jack said. “She’s gone to the other side. Dead.”

“Oh,” Becca said. “I’m so sorry.”

Becca could tell Denny was itching to get her back to the privacy of his little room, but she was learning a few things about this town and she couldn’t be pried out of the bar. The children, even the first graders, were bussed to other towns to go to school. They all rode together, all ages. The driver dropped the youngest ones off first before going on to the middle school, then the high school. The ranchers and farmers from the outskirts of town drove their kids into Virgin River to catch the bus, which then took them to school, so for some of the kids it was at least an hour each way of travel. For kids like Megan, it could be a ten-hour day. And that for a child who wasn’t having an easy time of it.

The folks around here put in long days, it seemed. Her first alert had been from Lorraine Thickson. Listening to the farmers and ranchers, they all started early, had very physical days and hit the sack early. Then there was Mel and the doctor, Cameron Michaels—they served the town and were on call 24/7. Jack was not to be left out. “Cry me a river,” he said. “I get this place open by six and we never close before nine. Unless there’s a snowstorm. I live for those snowstorms! The best ones last for days!”

“I don’t live for them,” Mel said. “Roughly nine months after a big storm, we have babies…lots of babies.”

The bar was filled with laughter that verified she was accurate.

“I’ve been pushing for a school. At least for the little ones,” Jo Fitch told Becca. “I know we’re not a big enough town to rate our own high school, but I hate seeing those six-and seven-year-olds spending half the day on a bus.”

“Does the county listen?” Becca asked.

“Sure,” Jo said. “They gave us the bus. Molly’s been driving that bus for thirty years.”

“You’re gonna want to stay out of her way, too,” someone put in, and the whole gathering laughed.

“We could hire you, Becca,” Jack said. “As Hope used to say when she was trolling for a midwife, then a town cop, ‘Low pay, bad hours.’ But at least you’d get to fight the snowdrifts and forest fires with the rest of us!”

She laughed at him along with everyone else—he was joking, of course. The beauty of these mountains was growing on her, but she couldn’t imagine not living on the ocean. She’d been surfing and sailing since she was a child. In fact, that was about the only thing the thought of Cape Cod had going for it.

She was distracted yet again when she heard her name. “It was Becca’s idea.”

“What was my idea?” she asked.

“Watching all the holiday movies together,” Mel said. “Once school is out for Christmas vacation and we have babysitters for the little ones, we’re going to meet in Paige’s great room. She’s ordering the movies. I’ll get the decorations for the bar out tomorrow—if you weren’t on crutches, you could help. And this year, since we have a full-time preacher and full-time preacher’s wife, we’re getting together a children’s pageant. They’ve already started lining up the characters.”

“I can bring the sheep,” Buck Anderson offered.

“Thanks, Buck,” Jack said, “but we’re in need of a few camels. Got any of those lying around?”

“We got us a bull, but he’s on the mean side….”

While this big group of friends laughed, joked and planned, the bar began to fill up with people and Denny left her side to help serve and bus. Soon the place was packed.

“Wow,” Becca said to Mel. “I had no idea the bar could get so busy. Last week, it was quiet.”

“It’s the tree,” she said. “People come from miles to see the tree. Jack acts like he resents it—it’s a lot of work putting it up and his hours are longer than ever during the season, but it’s such a special tree and I know he’s secretly proud of it. He says he expects the wise men to drop by any second. That star. Have you ever in your life seen a more amazing star?”

“The whole thing is amazing.”

“This bar runs hot and cold. Jack built it mainly as a town watering hole and to serve as a place for hunters and fishermen, which is seasonal. Now he’s adding Christmas to his busy seasons because of that awesome tree. So, are you going to be around for some of our holiday plans? Like movie day and the cookie exchange and maybe the children’s pageant?”

She shrugged. “I’m not going anyplace fast. I don’t see the doctor until Friday. I’m not going to be walking without crutches for another five weeks. Plus, I started a little homework club. I’m not good for too much, but I’m a whiz at helping with homework.”

“Really? How’d that happen?”

“I was headed for the bar this afternoon, looking for something to do or some company, when I saw a couple of the little girls from our craft party going in the church. I followed them in. Ellie Kincaid told them to work on their homework while she finished up in the office, and I helped. We had a good time and decided to get together regularly. Every day till vacation, anyway.”

“Aw, Becca. That’s great. That’s so generous of you.”

“I used to stay late at school almost every day in San Diego. There were always a few kids who needed a little boost. But…” Her voice trailed off when she didn’t continue.

“But what?” Mel asked.

“Well, I taught at a private school. I stayed late some days because I wanted to, but the families of most of my kids could afford tutors or shorter workweeks, so they had time to help their kids at home. The families around here seem to put in some long days and weeks…”

“Indeed,” Mel said. “In this town, it really does take a village.” Then she smiled. “We’re so lucky to have so many on board with that notion.”



Denny roused Becca early to give her time for her morning grooming and breakfast so he could get to the farm by eight. Even though Denny had made a pot of coffee, she was moving pretty slow until she got a cup of Jack’s high octane in her. “How do you do it?” she asked Jack. “You had to stay late last night with all the people who came to town to see the tree and you’re downright perky this morning!”

“I could comment on getting a good night’s sleep, but I won’t say anything about that….”

Becca looked at Denny and they both got a little rosy. Jack laughed. “I’ll get your omelets. Today it’s Spanish. One of my favorites.”

She leaned closer to Denny. “Does everyone in town know we’re doing it like bunnies all night?” she asked him.

“No, honey. They don’t know. They assume. And they assume right….”

“Ew…”

“Ignore it. One of the things you’ll find about this place—nothing goes unnoticed. Or unsaid!”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” she asked.

He laughed. “You get used to it. In fact, you get to like it.”

Becca contemplated this over breakfast. Then they drove out of town to his farm. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but certainly not what she found. Denny drove up a long drive through the trees, toward an enormous old Victorian that was in pristine condition. The snow had been falling on and off for a few days but it was a light snow and melting off the roads quickly. “What is this?” she asked as they approached the house.

“Jilly’s house,” he said. “She bought it because of the acreage. It just has ten acres, but she’s growing fancy heirloom fruits and vegetables—not a huge crop, but a unique crop. And it’s only been in development a year and a half. We have greenhouses for winter plants and seedlings. Growing never stops around here, but it does go heavy and light.”

“And who lives in the house?”

“Jillian and Colin—they’re a couple. He’s a painter. He used to be an Army helicopter pilot, but now he’s retired and paints wildlife portraits. Jilly used to be a big-shot marketing exec. She escaped to Virgin River and started a garden. When she was a kid, her great-grandmother showed her how to grow rare and amazing things. I have no idea what she was like as an executive, but as a farmer she’s miraculous.”

“And she made you into a farmer?” Becca asked.

“A little bit at a time. I started out by helping with the heavy work around here, but every day she showed me something new and now I’m a junior partner in this place. She grows the stuff, ships some of it to high-end restaurants and the rest goes to the kitchen where her sister, a chef, manufactures relishes, sauces, salsas, chutneys…all kinds of stuff. The label is Jilly Farms.” He pulled along the side of the house and parked. There was a golf cart with a flatbed back sitting in front of the back porch. “I don’t know how far we’ll get in the snow, but let’s give it a try.”

He carried her to the golf cart. As he was propping her in it, the back door opened and a couple came onto the porch.

“Hey there,” the woman said. She was young and pretty, wearing overalls and boots with a ball cap on her head. Standing behind her with a hand on her shoulder was a very tall, handsome man.

“Jillian, Colin, meet Becca,” Denny said. “Am I going to get very far in the gardenmobile?”

“I hope so,” Colin said. “I fixed her up with some studded tires.” Then he grinned. “Nice to see you again, Becca.”

“Oh! It’s you! From that first night we arrived!”

“It’s me. You weren’t on crutches then. How are you feeling?”

“Clumsy,” she said with a laugh. “Thanks for letting Denny give me a tour.”

“It’s a pleasure. He knows how much we love showing off the farm,” Jillian said. “After you’ve had a little twirl around the grounds, we’ll show you the house—it’s the most wonderful old house.”

“I can’t wait,” she said. And the next thing she knew, the gardenmobile jerked into motion and Denny was driving her past a huge garden, through the trees and to more gardens and greenhouses that were warmed by smudge pots.



Becca was fascinated by the farm, by all that Denny knew about these fancy crops and the business of growing and marketing them. She was intrigued by the proud light in his eyes as he described their products and even showed her pictures of their rare fruits and vegetables. He was so at home with his fingers in the soft, dark soil, pulling out a delicate seedling for her to see. After they’d toured the greenhouses and grounds, he brought her back to the house. He stopped short of the porch and said, “Wait till you see this place in spring and summer. That entire wall of shrubs that’s covered with snow—all flowers. There are a dozen apple trees along the front drive and a line of blackberry bushes dividing the front and back gardens. The bees around here get a little thick, but they’re friendly. We’re thinking of getting into honey—good money in honey!” Becca thought, Spring? Summer?

And then she thought, He’s so proud of this!

“Show me the house,” she said.

He parked and lifted her out of the gardenmobile. He carried her into the kitchen and found her a chair, then went back for her crutches.

Jillian came out of a room off the kitchen with a laptop in her hands. “I thought you might like to see pictures Colin took of the grounds during summer. He had shots of some of our crop that I used for brochures.” She put the laptop down in front of Becca and let her flip through the digital pictures.

“Gorgeous,” she said of staged photos of bushels of tomatillo, tiny beets, peppers, tomatoes and brussels sprouts. There was a cart piled high with pumpkins, pictures of the grounds alive with flowers, even pictures of jars of relishes and sauces with their Jilly Farms label on them.

“This is some operation,” she said.

“It’s a commercial farm and processed food line,” Jillian said proudly.

“Impressive,” she said.

“I wish you weren’t on crutches,” Jillian said. “Colin’s brother and wife and my sister and her husband are coming over later—we’re going to cut down our Christmas trees. We’ve already picked them out—we have enough fir and pine still on the property to thin out to make room for gardens.”

“She’s not missing out, Jillian—we took her with to find the town tree.”

“I’m sorry I missed that,” she said. “Are you going to take her around the rest of the house, Denny?”

“Yep,” he said. Denny leaned the crutches against the wall and urged Becca up so he could piggyback her around the house and up the stairs. It was three stories, a spacious eleven-room house with high ceilings, five bedrooms, a huge sun-room that Colin used for his studio on one end and their family room with a TV on the other end. The only part of the house that Denny didn’t think safe enough to carry her up to was the rooftop. “We can see all the gardens and greenhouses and over the treetops to neighboring farms and vineyards. When you’re healed, I’ll show you.”

There it was again—a comment that sounded like they had a future in Virgin River.

“This house is wonderful. I wonder what it must be like to live in a house like this.”

“One of the reasons I’ve been so long in Jo’s efficiency is because it’s practically free and I’ve been saving money for a house. A nice house. I have a little money from the sale of my mom’s home, plus what I’ve earned. Jillian keeps increasing my pay, I have full benefits from her and she gave me a bonus at the end of last summer. Then I’ve been working at Jack’s….”

“What are your hours at Jack’s?” she asked. “It’s kind of hard to tell.”

He laughed as he piggybacked her to the kitchen. He put her on one of the kitchen chairs and propped her foot. “It’s hard to tell because they’re real irregular. I started helping out and refused to take his money. He gave me free room and board for a long time right after I got here—I have a lot to pay off. But it rankled him—he’s proud. He’s also generous. The only freebies he likes are the ones he gives. So he opened a savings account and put money in it. I’d usually just step up if I was there for dinner and the place got real busy, but then he had to call me to help a few times and he told me he’d been paying me all along whether I liked it or not, so I quit arguing. Besides, I’ve been saving for that house.”

She thought of the way his arms felt around her, how it felt to have him say he loved her and she held her tongue. “What kind of a house do you think about, Denny?”

“There are lots of houses on big plots around here. But there’s also the houses Paul Haggerty builds. I’ll take you out to Jack and Mel’s one of these days—they have an awesome house on a few acres, and from his front porch you can see forever. He helped build it. That kept the cost down. I’d like to do that—help build my house.” He laughed. “I guess the answer is, I don’t know. I haven’t gotten serious about it yet. But you make me want to get serious.”