Bring Me Home for Christmas - By Robyn Carr Page 0,66
her little brother also hung out at the pastor’s house or around the church, she asked Jeremy where she was. “Home, coughing,” he said.
“Oh, no. She’s sick?”
He shrugged. “Sorta. She barks like a dog.”
“Not good,” Becca agreed.
When Lorraine came to pick up Jeremy on her way home from her job, Becca was able to ask after Megan. Lorraine was keeping her home, giving her cough syrup and Tylenol and shoveling chicken soup into her. “Her biggest worry is that if she has to miss the pageant practice on Saturday afternoon, she won’t get to be Mary!”
“If she were one of the singing angels, missing practice could be dicey,” Becca said. “But Mary doesn’t have to do anything but sit beside the manger. I’ll double check with Ellie and Jo, but I think her role is safe even if she misses Saturday, as long as she’s not contagious. And please, don’t let her talk you into letting her come to practice until she’s better. Whatever she’s got? No one wants to share it!”
“Whew! This is about the most special thing she’s had going on in such a long time. I’d hate to tell her she has to give it up.”
“Nah, don’t tell her that. Tell her she has to rest and eat chicken soup.”
Friday was the last day of school before the holiday vacation and Saturday afternoon there was a rehearsal at the church for the Christmas Eve Nativity Pageant. On Sunday, some of the women got together to watch those Christmas movies at Paige’s house. When Becca passed through the bar’s kitchen to enter their quarters, she was stopped short by the accumulation of tons and tons of food. “Wow, preparing for a flood?”
“Christmas boxes,” Preacher said. “We used to do it out in the bar where we had more room, but since the tree made us famous and we have so many visitors in town, we’re doing it in the kitchen and in our serving room.”
“When do they go out?”
“Christmas Eve is next Friday—but we’ll start delivering tomorrow. It’s almost all nonperishable so people can save it or eat it right away. That was Mel’s idea—she said if we’re bringing food to people who are hungry, let ’em eat!”
“I thought you gave turkeys?”
“Some, about a dozen. But canned hams work well, too. We don’t want to deliver birds to anyone who might have oven issues—as in no gas. There are people around who make due on fireplace heat.”
“Do you put them all together before delivering?”
“Nope. We deliver ’em as they’re ready. We have a lot of people volunteering. We’ll be at it most of the mornings this week, I imagine. Paige insists on making more cookies—there are families with kids.”
We’re so lucky, Becca thought. When I get home, I’m going to be better about volunteering.
Mel had a babysitter with her little ones and the town doctor was in charge of his three-year-old twins so his wife, Abby, could attend the hen party. Jack’s sister, Brie, came for a couple of hours and Jo and Ellie stopped by. Jo brought some pageant costumes with her, along with a sewing box, enlisting help in hemming angel’s robes.
Everyone had a pageant costume in their laps, there were Christmas cookies, coffee, tea and punch on the dining table and the first movie of the day was It’s a Wonderful Life. There was a little light chatter, voices low so as not to disturb the movie too much.
“Jack said he can’t understand why we’re going to so much trouble for this pageant. He was a shepherd when he was seven and he wore his father’s bathrobe.”
“Did he tell you he wore that old plaid bathrobe till he was thirteen?” Brie whispered. “When he wasn’t a shepherd, he was a Jedi warrior.”
“Ellie and I made all these costumes loose, with wide seams and huge hems so they can be altered if necessary and used year after year for kids of all sizes,” Jo said. “Oh! Shh! No talking while Clarence, the angel, arrives!”
Everyone was obediently quiet. Then soft talking resumed until the part in the movie when George begins to see how life in the town would be had he never been born.
“I actually believe all this,” Ellie said. “The smallest act is part of the whole universal scheme of things and everything is altered. Take away one good deed and everything changes. Add a good deed and there’s a ripple effect.”
“Every time we watch this movie together, my mom says that same thing,” Becca