Bring Me Home for Christmas - By Robyn Carr Page 0,63
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