Bring Me Home for Christmas

Fourteen




The routine of having Denny get up in the early morning, make her coffee and leave her curled up under the down quilt while he went off to work was an easy thing to adjust to. When the phone rang beside her bed, she eyed the clock as she rolled over. It was eight-thirty. She was surprised she’d slept so late, as excited as she was to pack up to leave. She reached for the phone and said hello.

“Becca,” Jack said. “Are you awake?”

“Sure,” she said.

Jack laughed. “No, you weren’t. Have you looked outside yet?”

“Why?” she asked, sitting up in bed.

“We had heavy snowfall during the night. I’m going to come down there and clean off the steps and salt them. When you’re ready to leave the apartment, you have to call me. The street is under almost two feet of snow. So, it’s nonnegotiable—you could break your other leg and your neck.”

She thought about that for a second. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to drive down there in Preacher’s truck to pick you up—Denny took mine out to the farm. When you get up, you’ll see a mound in the driveway—that’s Denny’s little truck. I’ll drive you to the bar or wherever you want to go. And dress warm. We have more snow forecast.”

“Why is Denny in your truck?”

“That Nissan of his wasn’t gonna make it all the way out there, even with chains. We’re not a priority for plowing—we generally do our own.”

“When will you be down here?” she asked.

“Ten minutes. It’ll take me twenty to clean off and salt your steps. You can go back to sleep, if you want to—I just didn’t want the noise to scare you.”

“Thirty minutes gives me plenty of time to dress and be ready to leave. But take your time. I don’t want you to have to wait for me.”

As Jack carried Becca down the snow-crusted stairs a half-hour later, she saw the mound of snow that had been Denny’s truck. A lot was going to have to happen to transform that igloo into a moving vehicle.

In all her trips to ski slopes, Becca had never seen anything quite like this. Even in the heaviest of snowfall in the mountains, this was her first time in a tiny town that was buried by snow. People were shoveling and snowblowing their way out of the homes and driveways, standing on ladders to shovel and scrape some of the weight off roofs. Kids were throwing snowballs, building forts and snowmen. Dogs were rollicking in the snow. There was exactly one narrow lane plowed down the street—just enough room for a vehicle, one at a time.

Becca couldn’t suppress a brief fantasy about being completely snowed in with Denny. Not in their little room above the garage, but in a house with a fireplace and a nice, functional kitchen. She’d be more than happy to lose a few days that way….

Jack drove her to the bar. Rather than parking in the back as usual, he pulled through two feet of snow to take a narrow space in the front and left the truck running. Preacher, all bundled up, was shoveling off the stairs and a path to the street.

As Jack carried her past, Preacher said, “Help yourself in the kitchen, Becca. I’m going to be tied up awhile.”

“Thanks,” she said with a laugh.

When Jack put her down right inside the door, she found an unexpected flurry of activity there. There were canned goods, bags of nonperishables and miscellanea lined up on the bar and on tables. Mel and Paige stood behind the bar, sorting and creating piles. Their four kids were coloring at a table in front of the fire. Jack went immediately to a stack of unconstructed boxes and began to fold them into shape and tape them.

“Hi,” Becca said to the women. “Getting those Christmas boxes ready?”

“We have to try to get them all delivered right away,” Paige said. “We have more weather on the way.”

“It would be awful if people didn’t get them before Christmas,” Becca said.

“It would be awful if they didn’t get them,” Mel said. “Some of these people need them. They might be hungry even as we speak, and if they’re also snowed in, have no way to get food. If we wait even a day and can’t get down some of those back country roads…” She shuddered. “One of the local farmers is plowing a lane out to Cameron’s house. He’s got the Hummer—our ambulance. He has to be able to get to town to the clinic. It’s heart-attack season, not to mention slips on ice, broken bones, strained muscles, cars sliding off roads, et cetera.”

“Heart-attack season?” Becca asked.

“First dramatic snowfall of the year,” Mel said while making groupings of foods for care boxes. “Shoveling and heart attacks. All the warnings in the world just don’t seem to help. During an ice storm a couple of years ago, we had a school bus go off the road. Jack and some of the guys rappeled down the hill to them. First responders had to carry the kids up one at a time. Fortunately no one was seriously hurt, but it could’ve been disastrous. Three years ago, we had a teenager lost and half the town went in search. Oh, Jack!” she said, turning her attention to her husband. “Paul Haggerty called—he’s plowing the stretch from 36 into town so if we have to get to the hospital, we can. And once he has access, he’ll bring some heavy equipment into town along with the construction company’s fuel truck.”

“Good. We could get gas out at Buck Anderson’s ranch—he keeps a good supply for his equipment—but getting there could be a problem.”

Becca felt a sudden surge of panic. “Is there any way to check and be sure Denny got out to the farm all right?”

“I’m sure he did or Jillian would have called asking after him,” Mel said. “But go in the kitchen and use the phone. Her number will be in the listing by the phone. Matlock. Jillian Matlock. And then get yourself something to eat—I bet you haven’t had breakfast.”

Becca worked those crutches very quickly.

“Yes,” Jillian said. “Denny and Colin are out clearing, plowing and removing snow from the roofs of the greenhouses. Most of it melted from smudge pots warming the inside, but sometime in the night, the snow and cold overwhelmed us and covered our paths to the greenhouses. How are things in town?”

“Very active,” she said. “Everyone seems to be very busy.”

Jillian laughed into the phone. “Yes, when Mother Nature pulls one of her tricks, the town rallies to make sure everyone has what they need. In big cities, you have whole agencies on the job, but out here, the wait could be a little too long. And there’s no agency to dig out my greenhouses or make paths to them for the gardenmobile! Luke and his helper, Art, are coming out to help as soon as the road to his house and cabin is cleared. He’s got a plow attachment for his truck. Slow going, but effective.”

“So you guys are okay out there?”

“Oh, yes,” Jillian said. “I have a major snowball fight scheduled for later today. Hey, Denny tells me you guys are heading south to begin whole new lives together. I hate to lose him, but congratulations, Becca! Even though you’re taking my best guy away from me, I wish you endless happiness.”

“Thanks,” she said somewhat meekly. She was taking the favorite son away. She felt kind of bad about that.

“I’ll get him out of here as quickly as possible so you can gather up your stuff and be ready to get on the road before this storm gets any worse. At least once you get off the mountain, you won’t have any more trouble. Just maybe a lot of rain….”

Except that the little truck is buried, she thought.

“Be sure you get that last ounce of help out of him,” Becca said.

Jillian laughed. “You’re a sport. Just so you know, I made Denny promise that you guys would be up for a visit. Many visits!”

“Sure we will. Tell Denny to drive back here real careful!”

“Oh, he’ll be careful,” Jillian said. “There’s no other option.”

Back in the bar, the television mounted high in the corner was turned on to the weather station and the volume was up. The blast of snow had hit the northwest, and the worst was in the mountains. The Sierras were socked in. South of town was rain and the inevitable flooding and mud, all the way to Southern California.

Becca heard a banging sound and looked out one of the bar windows. Preacher’s truck was backed up to the wood pile and, with Jack’s help, they were filling the back of the truck with split logs.

“What are they doing?” she asked the women.

“They’ll take firewood with them wherever they go today. The people around here have good survival instincts, but Jack likes to make sure they have wood on hand in case the heater fails or they run out of propane.”

Becca leaned heavily on her crutches, her bad leg lifted. This was driving her crazy! She wanted to be a part of this. “I want to help,” she said. “Tell me what I can do.”

Paige and Mel both stopped what they were doing and looked at her. “Well,” Mel finally said. “I guess you could color with the kids…”

“I’d be happy to, but they don’t need me. You need me. There must be something I can do.”

There was a moment of silent indecision between the women. “Do you cook?” Paige asked.

“A little bit, I guess.”

“Any favorite dishes you like to make? Can you follow a recipe? We’re not going to have a crowd tonight, but whoever is here is going to have to eat.”

“We might have to stay in town tonight,” Mel said. “I don’t want to risk not being able to get to the clinic. I’ve got a couple of women in advanced pregnancy.” She laughed suddenly. “And nine months from tonight, I’m going to have plenty ready to pop. People can only think of so many ways to entertain themselves during a snowstorm.”

“I can get food together,” Becca said. “I can help in the kitchen.”

“Good,” Paige said. “Because John isn’t going to have a lot of time to cook if he’s delivering food and firewood. And I have to get these care boxes fixed up before I can get in there. Let me get you set up.”



Becca found thawed ground beef in the refrigerator. She boiled potatoes and shredded cheddar for her favorite potato casserole. She found Preacher’s recipe for meat loaf—simple enough. There were frozen and canned vegetables from the local farmers and gardens. She found green beans and thought, if needed, she could throw together a green-bean casserole. Paige promised to help her with desserts after she finished with the care boxes.

Becca began to realize there were a number of things she could have provided—spaghetti and meatballs, homemade mac and cheese, lasagna, stroganoff and noodles…

Every time she heard an increase in noise, talking or laughter in the bar, she pushed open the door to see who had arrived. Ellie and Noah Kincaid came to help; Jo and Nick Fitch arrived. Next, she found Paul Haggerty in the bar, cheeks and nose pink and a big smile on his face, brushing snow off his hands and shoulders. “You’re plowed through to 36,” he announced. “Gimme some hot coffee and I’ll clear the rest of this street for you.”

A while later, she stuck her head into the bar to see a few men she didn’t know laughing and warming up with coffee before getting back out into the weather. Then Jack and Preacher were there, carrying care boxes out to the truck. At almost noon, Denny arrived. He came right in the kitchen, all grins, and swept her up in his cold arms, burying his icy nose in her neck, causing her to eeek! loudly while he laughed.

He set her free. “I’m going to start digging out the car and put chains on the tires. We’re going to have to try to get out of here, get south today. There’s more weather due tonight and if we don’t go now—”

“I can’t,” she said instantly. “I’m busy. If I don’t cook for these people, who knows if they’ll have time to get a meal together!”

“They’ll be fine, honey. Wrap it up and I’ll get you down to the apartment to pack up.”

The phone rang and she automatically reached for it. “I think I have to take a chance on the weather,” she said. Then into the phone, she said, “Jack’s.”

“Hey, Becca, it’s Jack. Get Mel to the phone, will you, sweetheart?”

“Sure, hang on.” She crutched over to the swinging door. “Mel? Jack’s on the phone. He needs you.”

She gave her attention back to Denny. “We might not get on the road exactly when we planned, but it doesn’t matter as long as we get on the road eventually. Right? What if there’s another heavy snowfall and Jillian needs you?”

“I’ve got her squared away. She’s called in her troops to stand by if she needs them. Think about this, Becca, because you said you wanted to be home before Christmas. Christmas Eve is Friday.”

“I bought a couple of presents before Thanksgiving, but other than those, I don’t have a thing,” she said, thinking aloud. “I don’t have anything for you and I’d like it to be a special Christmas.”

He grinned. “You think it won’t be? You don’t need to put a bow on it, baby.”

And then she heard Mel say, “Oh, for Pete’s sake, they should know better than to worry about money when something like this happens! I’ll get right out there.” There was a pause. “No, I’m not waiting for you to come and get me. Cameron and I will come together in the Hummer. Paige will mind the kids. Tell them to get the heat turned up, get the worst one in the steam and I’ll be right there.”

Mel hung up and looked at Denny and Becca. “I’m on my way out to the Thicksons’. They have sick kids with coughs, sore throats and fevers. I hope they didn’t let it go too long.”

“I’m going with you,” Becca said. “That’s little Megan’s house.”

“You can’t, Becca,” Denny said. “You’re on crutches. If there’s a problem, like if Mel got stuck in the snow or something, you’d be a liability.”

“He’s probably right, Becca,” Mel said while she dialed. She spoke quickly to Cameron Michaels, instructing him to pull the Hummer up to the bar so they could go to the Thicksons’ together.

“Then you take me,” she said to Denny. “I need to go. I can’t leave without telling Megan goodbye, anyway. Please?”

“We should get on the road…” he said again.

Becca went to the pantry and pulled out cans of chicken soup. The supply must be something that Preacher kept on hand for the kids. She put six cans on the work island, then transferred them into a bag. She pushed the bag toward Denny. “We’ll get on the road in plenty of time. First things first. We have things to do.”

Becca turned off the stove and preheating oven, slipped her bowl of shredded potatoes into the refrigerator and crutched her way out of the kitchen.

“Denny,” she said over her shoulder. “Come on!”

He followed, pulling his stocking cap back on his head. “Yes, sir!”



Jack hung up the phone and looked at Lorraine. “Where’s Frank? We’ll go help him out.”

“He went out to the shed quite a while back. He said he’d have to get the snow off the roof and bring in firewood.”

“Let’s do it,” Jack said to Preacher. They pulled their hoods up and tromped out of the house, following footsteps through the deep snow around to the back, where a shed sat next to an abandoned outhouse.

Frank was up on a ladder, using a shovel with his only arm to clear the roof of the rickety shed. He was leaning precariously to one side. Progress was extremely slow.

Jack stood at the bottom of the ladder with hands on hips. “Frank, man, you need to learn to ask for a hand. You could fall and break the only arm you have left.”

“What’s the difference?” he grumbled.

“Well,” Preacher said, scratching his head. “About one…”

Frank looked down at them. “I ain’t much good to anyone as it is,” he said. “I tried like hell to get this shed reinforced before snow, and look how far I got.”

“You need another arm,” Jack said.

“No shit?” Frank laughed bitterly.

“Shouldn’t you be getting a prosthetic limb?”

“There’s a waiting list. You oughta know that. By the time they get around to me, I won’t need it anymore.”

“And why’s that? You fixin’ to grow one?”

“Funny. Don’t be an a*shole.”

“Listen, two of my closest friends have artificial legs. They didn’t like the process that much, but one of ’em can run on his now. The other one, Ricky, I figure he’ll be able to run on his once he makes up his mind to. If you had another arm, you’d get a lot more done. You’d probably land a job if you had two arms and weren’t such a miserable cuss. Now, get off that goddamn ladder. We’ll clean off the roof and bring in the wood. I don’t have all day!”

Frank swore, but he left the shovel lying on the roof of the shed and started down. “That shed’s a piece of crap, but I can’t do without it. Stores half my tools and there ain’t no room in the house for that.”

“I’ll get the snow off,” Jack said. “And I’ll tell Mel you need an arm. Maybe she can find you one. Or at least get you moved up on the list.”

“She can’t do that.”

“Technically, she probably can’t. But she’s annoying as all hell and when she starts making phone calls, people tend to do what she wants just to get rid of her.” Jack smiled proudly. Then he opened the door to the shed and peered inside at an impressive stack of split logs. “Holy crap, you do all that? With one hand?”

“Took a while,” Frank said.

Jack scratched his head. “How the hell did you do all that?”

“Took a while,” he repeated.

Jack laughed in spite of himself. “Frank, if you’d drop the poor-me attitude, you’d probably be a whole circus act. Now, let’s get over it, man. I grant you, a logger losing an arm is a lot to handle, but seriously, there’s work here and there. You want a little help looking, I’ll be glad to help you put out feelers. You’re just going to be twice as good at everything once you get that prosthetic arm.”

“Yeah. Sure,” he grumbled.



Denny and Becca talked in circles on the way to the Thicksons’ house. We should go. We should stay through this emergency. We’ll end up going late. Late is better than too soon… The unexpected twist was that Becca was arguing for staying and Denny for leaving.

They pulled up to the house right next to the Hummer. The Thicksons lived on a big piece of property on the outskirts of town. A little house was burrowed into a large copse of trees at the end of a long drive that had been recently plowed. Preacher’s truck was still there, which meant that Jack and Preacher were still there.

Denny deposited her along with her crutches onto the narrow porch and went back for the bag of canned soup. She gave two knocks and opened the door. Right inside the door was a little living room/dining room/kitchen—one room. Just a quick glance told her the Thicksons were poor—the floors were scarred wood, covered by a thread-bare rug, a lamp without a shade sat atop a barrel covered by cloth, the appliances were very dated. Mel was kneeling on the floor beside Megan, who was using a small, sagging couch as her bed.

“I’m mostly well,” she was telling Mel.

“Just let me be sure, while Doctor Michaels checks your brothers. Open your mouth and let me have a look. Say ‘ahhh.’ Throat’s a little red, but not scary.” She ran the temperature sensor across Megan’s forehead and read it. “Normal. You’re right—mostly well.”

Then Megan coughed. It sounded like a seal barking.

“Well, you could use some help with that,” Mel said.

“Where’s Jack?” Denny asked. He put the bag of canned soup on the table next to the big box Jack had delivered.

“Out back, helping Frank with something,” Mel said.

“I’ll go see if he needs me,” Denny said, disappearing at once.

Becca stood, waiting, balanced on her crutches, while Mel checked Megan, listening to her chest, looking in her ears. A few moments passed, then Dr. Michaels poked his head into the living room. “I need you in here,” he said to Mel.

When Mel went into the bedroom, Megan noticed Becca and her little face lit up. “Mama said I probably wouldn’t see you again!”

“I still haven’t left,” she said, moving closer. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m mostly well,” she said. “But I think I gave it to the little boys. I tried not to!”

“Megan, you might have all caught it at the same time. You never know where germs come from.” She lowered herself carefully to the edge of the sofa. “You still have a cough.”

“If I’m Mary, I promise not to cough!”

“Hmm,” Becca said, thinking. “Mary was sitting outside in a stable. Chances are she had a cough. Or at least a sniffle. What do you think?”

“Maybe. Will you stay for the pageant?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure we’ll be on our way by then. We were planning to leave by tomorrow morning, but weather reports aren’t good. We might be stuck another day. But I’m planning on getting home by Christmas to be with my mom and dad.”

“You know what I wish?” Megan said. “I wish you lived here.”

Becca smiled and brushed the little girl’s hair back from her brow. “I’m so glad I got to meet you. I’m just visiting, but I’ll visit again. Promise.”

“I know, but…”

Mel came back into the room. She handed a couple of bottles to Becca. “Tylenol for fevers, cough syrup as directed.” Then she leaned down. “Megan, we’re going to take Jeffie and Stevie to the hospital for X-rays and medicine. Your mom is coming. Jeremy will be here with you and your dad. Probably the little boys will be back home tomorrow, the next day at the latest. They’re going to be fine—it’s for precaution. I don’t want them stuck out here, caught in the snowstorm if their fevers and congestion gets worse. You understand?”

Megan nodded, but her eyes were a little scared. Becca squeezed her hand.

“Everything is going to be fine. Jack and everyone will stay till they’re completely sure you have all the firewood and food you need, okay? And your mom will call you from the hospital to let you know the little boys are just fine. Okay?”

Again she nodded.

“Becca, hang out with the kids until Frank is briefed. Give him the medicine. Make sure these little ones are getting what they need. Tell him Jeremy has been dosed and should stay in bed. He gets more Tylenol and cough syrup in four hours. And try not to breathe the air if you can help it. No kissing sick kids, no matter how tempting!”

“Right,” Becca said, thinking that all she wanted to do was pull Megan onto her lap and cuddle her, reassure her.

Mel disappeared into the bedroom. In just seconds, Cameron Michaels came through the living room, carrying a child wrapped in a blanket. Right on his heels came Mel, also carrying a little boy. Behind them came Lorraine, her coat hanging open, carrying two doctors’ bags. She leaned down and kissed Megan’s forehead. “Tell Daddy I’ll call home as soon as we know what the chest X-rays say. Can you remember that?”

Megan nodded.

“It’s going to be just fine, Megan,” Lorraine said. “Dr. Michaels and Mel know exactly what to do.”

“I know….”

Becca watched Lorraine quickly race out the door, closing it.

She was filled with emotions she couldn’t quite label, but one of them was a fierce longing. She wanted to throw down the crutches and walk; she wanted to carry one of these children to safety.

She patted Megan’s hand. “I brought some soup. I’m going to warm it for you.”