Bring Me Home for Christmas

Twelve




The homework club grew to seven kids, about three of whom could have led the class. Danielle, Christopher and Juliet were all ahead of their age groups. But Megan, Maron, Mary and Zoe needed a little extra help. Coincidentally, Megan and Maron were both in the same third-grade class and had the very same issues—very little encouragement, a lot of negative reinforcement, low self-esteem and little confidence.

Becca looked forward to their club every day.

Ellie asked her to help out with organizing the nativity pageant with the children for Christmas Eve, and they met on the weekend afternoons—Mary and Joseph, three shepherds, three wise men and a slew of little angels. She couldn’t be sure she’d be available for more than one rehearsal, but she couldn’t resist. Besides, Megan was going to be Mary! That in itself had done so much for the girl’s confidence.

On Friday, the splint came off, the stitches came out and the splint was replaced with a soft, removable boot. “You can get the foot wet now,” the doctor said. “But I discourage showers. If you lose your balance and put weight on the foot, you could be back where you started. And that’s if you’re lucky!”

He told her to move her ankle, though. No weight on it, but she was instructed to pretend to write the alphabet with her pointed big toe. A. B. C. And so on.

“That hurts!” she said.

“It’s just stiff and sore. It’ll loosen up. Do it five or six times a day. It’ll save you a lot of heartache and physical therapy. Am I going to see you again or are you headed home to San Diego?”

She glanced at Denny. “I’m going to hang around. For a little while. Maybe another week, anyway. I’m helping with the Christmas pageant.”

She couldn’t miss the gleam in Denny’s beautiful brown eyes.



Becca was making her way down to the church for Saturday-afternoon pageant rehearsal when she spotted a familiar car parked in front of the bar. A late-model BMW. Standing beside it was Doug. His hands were plunged into the pockets of his black London Fog dress coat. She could see his shiny black shoes, all mucked up from the mud and melting snow in the street. He wore a red turtleneck and gray wool slacks—he looked so classy and professional.

She slowly made her way to him. “Should I be surprised to see you?” she asked him.

“Let me take you home, Becca. We can talk on the drive. I’ll stay in San Diego for a few days to give us time to sort things out.”

She shook her head. “I’m not ready to go home, Doug. And there’s nothing to sort out. I think what we have, if we want it, is a casual friendship.”

“I’m not interested in that,” he said. “We talked about marriage! We deserve another chance.”

“It was the talk about marriage that forced my hand, Doug. I felt that coming. I knew I wasn’t going to say yes. I had to figure out why.”

“And did you?”

She nodded solemnly.

He grimaced and looked away. He looked back at her. “Have you been drugged or something? Because there was never a hint of this!”

“I think maybe there were lots of hints, but you were a little too busy making plans to notice. I’m sorry you came so far for nothing. Really. Sorry for all the inconvenience. And for your messed-up plans.”

He shook his head. “You turned out to be so completely different than I thought you were.”

“I did, didn’t I? I’m not going to apologize for that.” She backed away a little bit. “Drive very carefully down the mountain. The roads can be slick.”

He stepped toward her and, in a purposely controlled and lowered voice, he said, “Becca, you can’t really choose this hick dump over Cape Cod! Before you know it, you’ll be wearing denim jackets, plaid skirts, combat boots and your hair in braids!”

She smiled tolerantly. “And you’d be embarrassed to take me with you to the Presidential Inauguration. I have to go, Doug. I’m on my way to the church to help them with the children’s Christmas pageant.”

With that, she began to move slowly toward the church. She heard him behind her as the car door opened and closed, the ignition turned and the car moved down the street.

She heard the thud of feet approach her and she looked over her shoulder to see Denny catching up to her. “That him?” he asked.

She nodded, then resumed walking.

“You sent him away?” he asked.

“Of course. That’s over. Completely and totally. It wasn’t that much to start with.”

“He drove all the way up here to try to convince you it was something.”

“He’s used to having things go according to plan.”

Denny was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “That’s a helluva car.”

“I know. But I’m pretty focused on who’s in the car.”



To Becca’s great surprise, Megan didn’t appear for homework club after school on Tuesday. Since Maron was in her class, she asked, “Was Megan sick today?”

“No,” the little girl said. “She had a accident and her dad had to come and get her.”

Becca gasped. “What kind of accident? Is she all right?”

“She just peed herself. But it made her cry a lot.”

“Oh, no! Poor Megan! I think that happens to just about everyone. I think it happened to me when I was a little girl. I hope she won’t be too upset.”

Maron shrugged. “She was in the girl’s line. But she kept wiggling, so Mrs. Anderson put her at the end of the line. Twice.”

Becca felt her cheeks grow warm, then hot. Surely there was more to the story, she thought. As a second-grade teacher she had encountered that particular problem plenty of times. They kept spare underwear in the nurse’s office for just such emergencies. Kids could lose all track of themselves or just get so caught up in their activities they waited too long. Just as often, someone would throw up with apparently no clue it was about to happen. It was the stuff of elementary school. And Megan was only eight.

Becca would never put a little girl who was waiting for the bathroom at the end of the line if she was wiggling! That’s just asking for it! “Can’t you excuse yourself to the bathroom whenever you need to?” Becca asked. “Raise your hand? Ask permission?”

Maron shrugged again. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

She sighed. “We have bathroom breaks every hour. If you don’t take the break when it’s time to, you can color or paint or talk quietly, but then you have to wait for the next time. And then there’s no talking, playing, pushing or laughing in line…or else. Megan kept saying she really had to go.”

Becca raised her eyebrows. Nothing wrong with some rules; it was a good idea to help these little ones establish their own limits and boundaries. But dangling “playtime” if they pass on the bathroom break was too tempting.

“I bet Mrs. Anderson felt really bad about the accident.”

“I think the whole class always makes her feel bad,” Maron said. She shook her head, then went back to copying her spelling words.

Can’t get much by kids, Becca thought. It seemed pretty obvious that this particular teacher was not a happy person.

After the children had gone home for the day, Becca made her way down to Denny’s efficiency. Inside, she heard the shower running. She picked up the phone and called her mother.

“Remember that teacher I had in fifth grade?” she asked. “Was her name Mrs. Anderson?”

“No,” Beverly said, laughing. “Johnson, I think. I’m not sure I remember, but I’ll never forget her face.”

“Me, either. One of my little girls has a teacher who sounds so much like that. Very punishing, very unhappy, thrilled when you screw up. Her teacher kept pushing her to the back of the bathroom line because she was wiggling too much and she had an accident.”

Beverly gasped.

“This little girl has had such a hard year. Her dad was injured in a logging accident, lost his arm and his job, and the family is struggling. You’d think she could cut her a little slack.”

“Is the little girl awfully upset?”

“She didn’t come to our homework session so I guess the answer is probably yes. And you know what came to mind? I was in tears most of fifth grade, believing the teacher hated me, believing I’d never make it to sixth grade. I was miserable, and I didn’t even have a troubled home life! I had every advantage, and I was destroyed.”

“But here’s what you did have, Becca—the best sixth-grade teacher in the world, Mrs. Dallas. We met with her before school started and explained how hard your fifth grade was. By the very look in her eyes, she wasn’t surprised. Everyone knew that teacher was hard to survive, but there was nothing they could do. I think Mrs. Dallas made an extra effort for you. It was not the difficult teacher that made you want to teach, it was the wonderful teacher who inspired you!”

Denny came out of the bathroom, holding a towel around his waist. He blew her a kiss then proceeded to quietly dress.

“I think she saved me,” Becca said. “You know, I’ve had some monumental brats in the past couple of years, but I wouldn’t treat the worst kid so meanly!”

Beverly laughed. “You better not, Becca. A young teacher like you—it’s so important that you focus on what you have, not on what you don’t have.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“You had a couple of crappy teachers, but you had way more wonderful, inspiring teachers. And if you look at your teaching career, young though it is, you’ll see that it’s been shaped by the excellent teachers. You’ve learned so much from them. You’ve become like them in so many ways. You haven’t chosen teaching out of retaliation—you chose it to be as positive an influence as you can!”

“Oh, Mom,” she said. “Thank you for saying that.”

Beverly laughed. “Just because we’ve been known to disagree, doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you, Becca. And I’m really starting to miss you, too.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Becca promised. “I’ll let you know when I’m headed that way.”

“Be careful on the snow and ice!” Beverly said.

When she hung up the phone, she found that Denny was dressed and sitting in the chair, waiting for her.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he said. “Not on purpose, anyway. But I’m sorry if you’re missing your mom. If you need to go home, just tell me when. I can drive you.”

“And then I’ll miss you,” she said. “It’s no-win.”

“We have to face it, honey,” he said. “We’ve talked about everything but where we go from here.”

She straightened and paid attention.

“I don’t know what comes next for us, but whatever it is, it’s got to be me and you. Together. Forever. I want to marry you, Becca. If you want that, too, we have some things to work out. We have a geographic situation. And I think we’ve both been putting off talking about it.”

“I know,” she said very softly.

“I have two jobs and a good opportunity here, Becca. Maybe you could give it a try, since you don’t have a job to go back to in San Diego. You could probably find a good teaching job somewhere around here if you want to, but if not, I can support you. And since good jobs are real hard to find in this economy, I shouldn’t give up two paychecks. Remember, I don’t have a degree.”

That made her almost gulp, thinking of what Doug had said and feeling angry all over again. “I might not have a job in San Diego, but my whole life is there.” She shook her head. “I don’t have anything here. I don’t have anyone but you.”

“You will have more good friends here,” he promised. “Everyone loves you. This is a great place, once you get to know it. It’s hard to explain, but everything is a team effort here. It gives a person an interesting kind of confidence, the way no one is ever left uncared for. If I needed something, I can name fifteen people who’d be right there lending a hand. And I can name twice as many people I’d be happy to help out. I’ve never had that before. It’s more family than my family was.”

“Oh,” she said weakly.

“If you could just try,” he repeated. “Give it a chance. Consider it. See if it works out as well for you as it has for me. I mean, works out for us…”

“Denny, we talked about what happened to you when your mom died, when we broke up and you went to Afghanistan, but we haven’t talked about what happened to me, and we should. It was horrible. I didn’t eat or sleep, I was depressed, my grades dropped and it was a struggle to graduate. I’m scared, Denny. What if I give this place a chance and you change your mind again? What if I leave everything I know and love to be here with you and you come up with some profound reason why it’s better for us to split up, like before?”

“Whoa, honey, I won’t, I swear to God. I always knew that was a stupid mistake. I regretted it right away. I learned from that. You can trust me. I love you so much.”

“I do trust you,” she said. “And I love you, too. But it’s going to take time for me to feel a little more secure about that. I want to go home. Think things through. Everything and everybody I love is there…everyone but you.”

“Okay,” he said. He said it quietly and smiled, but it was a weak smile. “Let’s plan next week, after I get Jilly’s farm caught up and you’re done with all the stuff you have planned with the women and the kids. You have your pageant practice on Saturday and some hen party on Sunday, right? I’ll get you home in plenty of time for Christmas. Will that work?”

“Thank you,” she said. But she was afraid to ask if he would stay.



Becca and Denny went to Jack’s for dinner and sat up at the bar. It was easier now that she could dangle her injured leg. As soon as they’d eaten, Denny started helping out behind the bar, in the kitchen, around the tables. The place was packed. Mel had kept her word and brought out the Christmas decorations. There were pine boughs heaped on the mantel and twinkling lights everywhere.

“I love that tree outside,” Jack told Becca. “But I probably shouldn’t have let Melinda talk me into it.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Look at this place,” he said. “Tuesday night and it’s standing room only. We never had crowds like this around the holidays until that tree started lighting their way into town. A lot of these folks have military backgrounds—they come to see the red-white-and-blue tree, leave unit patches to be added next year.”

She looked around. “They all look pretty happy. And it must be a few extra bucks in the Christmas kitty. Huh?”

“Can’t complain about the business,” he said. “Just the hours. We’ve got stuff to do. Like the Christmas baskets.”

“Ah. Would that include the ‘town turkeys’?”

“Huh?”

“One of the little girls in my homework group indicated her dad resented what he called the ‘town turkey.’ You probably know him—lost his arm in a logging accident?”

“Yeah, that’s Frank. He’s a real sourpuss. Too bad—he wasn’t before the accident. Used to be a sweetheart. Lots of fun. But now? Not so much. He’s just a young guy with a young family. I bet he’s thirty-two.”

“I think I saw him in here once. And I met his wife. Frankly, I thought she was a bit older.”

“We’d all be a bit older if we worked twelve-hour days in a truck stop,” Jack said. “Frank can resent the town turkey, as he calls it, all he wants, but I bet his kids don’t. He’ll be getting a real nice Christmas package.”

“Do you do a lot of that sort of thing?”

Jack shrugged. “We help out where we can. There’s enough to keep us all busy around here. But we only do the baskets at Thanksgiving and Christmas. We got together with Noah, the preacher, and started a list of people who needed a hand. No one is better equipped to put names on that list than the pastor, the town doctor and my wife.” He rubbed his chin. “Bothers me that there are probably more folks out there in need that we just don’t know about. I worry about the elderly. There are some folks around the mountains who have been here fifty years or more and most of ’em just don’t take to charity. If they get sick, they’ll just hunker down till they either feel better or drop dead.”

“Ew. What a creepy thought.”

He grinned at her. Then the grin faded. “And the children—I always worry about the kids. While the elderly won’t ask for help, the kids can’t. We keep our eyes open and do the best we can.”

She smiled and said, “And yet, even with all that, people seem to find this place enchanting.”

“Enchanting? I don’t know about that.” He leaned on the bar. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I feel useful here. Needed. I’m appreciated for what I can contribute and people let me know that. In a lot of other places, I could disappear and barely be missed.”

“Aw, I can’t believe that.”

“Accurate or not, I know I’m counted on here.” He glanced down the bar to see a patron with his hand up, beckoning him. “Excuse me a minute.”

While he moved down the bar to serve a drink, she caught sight of Denny bringing food from the kitchen to a table full of people. Locals, she presumed, because they all laughed with him, joking around with him, and he was giving it right back, as if they’d all been friends forever.

That’s what Denny meant. He felt useful; he knew he was needed. Back in San Diego, he must never have been sure of that.



Because the bar was so busy, Denny wanted to help out until closing, despite the fact that both Jack and Preacher told him to take off, spend time with his girl. He took a fifteen-minute break to walk Becca home and make sure she got up those stairs safely. “I hope you don’t mind too much, I’m going to be another hour, maybe hour and a half. The guys told me to call it quits, but Paige is busy with the kids and I can help while you use the time to get ready for bed, call your mom or maybe read for a while.”

“Thanks. I don’t feel like sitting around a packed bar.”

“Whew, we hardly ever see it that busy. Maybe at the peak of hunting season. Or if we have a fire and the firefighters are passing through on their way in and out of the mountains. Jack takes real good care of those boys.”

“Takes care of them?”

“Anyone who looks after the needs of the town, he serves for free. That includes law enforcement, firefighters, doctors, et cetera. He says it keeps things in balance.”

“How?”

“It’s what he has to offer,” Denny said with a shrug. “And they give back what they have to offer.”

“To him? Like free law enforcement or fire-fighting? Because that comes out of taxes, right? We don’t actually get a bill.”

Denny laughed softly. “There was a big fire in these mountains a few years ago—it came real close to town. The bar is still standing. That would’ve been a big bill.” He pulled on one of her arms so they would stop walking. He slowly turned her around and they looked back down the street at the Christmas tree. The lights around the tree reflected under the black sky, while the star on top lit a path down the street. “Look at that thing,” he said. “Kind of amazing that a bunch of guys from town can make that whole thing happen.”

Becca noticed that in addition to the tree, the houses lining the street were decked out in their decorations, lights lining the eaves of houses, trees glittering in the living rooms behind picture windows, wreaths on doors, smoke curling from chimneys. This wasn’t a quaint Thomas Kincade village, that was for sure. Rather, it was an old town that had endured, a town whose character showed in its wrinkles and cracks. The homes were well used and some more well kept than others, but the street was wide, the trees tall and the dark mountains rose majestically beyond.

There was the roar of an engine and the jingling of bells that brought to mind Santa’s sleigh, and Denny quickly pulled her out of the way just in time for a tractor-drawn wagon to come around the corner and pass. It was covered in hay and loaded with laughing kids and a few adults.

“Hey, Denny!” someone yelled.

He raised a hand in return and watched them drive by. Then he turned Becca and walked beside her down the street.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“One of the local farmers. He’s got grandkids, so he’s always giving sleigh rides. Or I should say wagon rides.” When they got to the foot of the stairs, he lifted her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way up. Once inside the efficiency, he gave her a kiss. “I won’t be too long. I won’t hang around the bar, that’s for sure.”

“Take your time,” she said, watching him leave.

The door closed behind him and she just stood there for a moment. Then, even though she had time for a leisurely bath and relaxation before he returned, she went to the phone and called her mother. “Mom, tell me the story of when you fell in love with Dad…”



Beverly fell in love with Alex Timm when she was twenty-one. She was at an Army-Navy game in Philly. She was a senior at George Washington University and it was a big game. Beverly’s dad had been Navy, so she was tied to that team and had driven from Virginia with a bunch of girlfriends.

“Your dad’s ship was dry-docked in Baltimore and he was at the game in uniform—those beautiful Navy whites. I know I shouldn’t tell this to my daughter, especially since I keep advising you to stop being so ridiculously romantic and use your head, but I think I fell in love with him the second I saw him. I was certainly down for the count when he and his friends took me and my girlfriends out after the game. I’d just never met anyone like him. He was…how can I put it? Gallant. Funny. Handsome. And on shore leave for a few weeks.”

“But you knew right away?”

“I thought I did,” she said. “But after a few weeks, he shipped out and we were separated on and off for the next two years. A long-distance relationship.”

“When did he ask you to marry him?” Becca asked.

“When he was stationed in San Diego. He flew out to Virginia. He only had a few days of leave. He told me then that he didn’t want to be away from me any longer and he’d tried his best to get assigned to Virginia. But it didn’t work out, and there was nothing he could do but beg me to marry him. By that time, I’d graduated and had a pretty stable job at a newspaper. And we lived on different coasts. So he asked me to take a chance on him and come back to San Diego with him.”

“And you did.”

“Not immediately. I had to think about it. I was born in Virginia! And my parents were completely opposed to the idea—they were old-fashioned. There’s a courtship, a ring and a wedding first. It wasn’t a hard decision, it was a terrifying one.”

“How long did it take you to decide?” Becca asked, even though she’d heard the story a few dozen times.

“Three weeks,” Beverly said. Then she laughed. “I guess that shows you that at twenty-three I didn’t have a whole lot of willpower. And when I packed to leave, my father said, ‘Make no mistake, you do this against my approval.’”

“Wasn’t it hard for you to make such a big change?”

“Of course,” Beverly said. “And it was a huge adjustment. San Diego was nothing like Virginia. I had to make all new friends, your father’s friends. I planned a wedding without my parents. In fact, my father was so opposed to the idea of me living with my fiancé, he refused to help pay for the wedding.” She laughed a little. “For a while, he said he wouldn’t even attend unless it was in Virginia, but my mother put her foot down. It was a wonderful and scary time.”

Her mother stopped talking and silence enveloped them both. Wonderful and scary, thought Becca. That just about summed it up.



When Denny entered his apartment, only the bathroom light was on. Becca was curled onto her side, snuggled into the quilts, her hair fanned out over the pillow.

He ran his cold hands under hot water in the bathroom, stripped and crawled in beside her, spooning around her back. He slid an arm over her waist and pulled her against him. “Sorry I’m late,” he whispered. “Those people didn’t want to leave.”

“Hmm,” she murmured.

“Are you asleep?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, wriggling against him. “Shh.”

He lay still and quiet for a while, his face against her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. Minutes passed before he whispered, “You awake?”

“Barely,” she said.

“I think I forgot to do something…”

She rolled onto her back. “Are you leaving again?”

He grinned down at her and shook his head.

“What did you forget to do?”

“I forgot to make love to you.” Just pressing up against her, even against those boring flannel pajamas, he was already aroused.

“Are you really waking me up for sex?” she asked him.

He grinned as he nodded, looking down at her beautiful face. He covered those soft, pink lips with a searching kiss. “I need you,” he said. “I want to be inside you.” He had never wanted anyone the way he wanted her. In fact, he had never wanted anyone else. “If I say please?” he whispered against her cheek.

“I can hardly say no, since you’re so polite….”

“Good, I’ll remember that. I’ll mind my manners at all times. For the rest of my life.” And then he stopped talking, kissing her while he made those pajamas go away….



“Mom?” Becca said into the phone the next day. “When you went to San Diego to be with Daddy, did you ever wonder if you’d made a terrible mistake? Even though you loved him?”

“Did I cry for my mom and dad? Was I sometimes real lonely without my girlfriends? The answer is yes. I told you, it wasn’t easy.”

“How did you do it? How did you make that decision and then stick to it?”

“Well, it’s been so long…but there was the story of Ruth from the Bible. My dad was real big on the Bible sometimes. Ruth left the family she knew and went with her new husband. She said, ‘Your people shall be my people.’ I know that’s supposed to be biblical, but I actually found it romantic. Of course, at the time, I didn’t realize your Dad’s people would include the beer-drinking champion of the Naval base, a few fellow football fanatics he couldn’t be away from if there was a game playing anywhere in the universe, a bowling team and a very sour-smelling fishing buddy who might show up for a meal once a week.”

Becca laughed softly.

“A Navy second lieutenant’s pay was pretty small, I didn’t have a job in San Diego and my parents lived on the opposite coast. Leaving them for the man of my choice meant not seeing them for a long time—air travel was pricey, there wasn’t email and long-distance phone calls were expensive.” Beverly paused. “What’s happening, Becca?”

“Oh…just pondering… Denny so loves this town….”

“I suppose you think I was born yesterday,” Beverly said. “Becca, I haven’t made it any secret that I wanted a different partner for you. One who was going to be successful enough to take you to Europe and the kids to Disney once a year. But I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit I followed my heart. Besides, you can’t cry alone at chick flicks for the rest of your life. I might not like it, but I understand you have to confront it.”

“I don’t cry alone at chick flicks!”

“Yes, you do. Maybe you can bring him home. This was his home once, after all,” Beverly said.

“You were so angry with me for coming up here and now it sounds like you might actually understand!”

“Tell him we’re having ham and turkey for Christmas,” Beverly said.

Although Becca laughed, a few tears slid down her cheeks.