Bring Me Home for Christmas - By Robyn Carr Page 0,76
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.”
Fifteen
Denny stood back and watched as Jack, up on a ladder at the Thicksons’ shed, dumped a pile of snow on top of Preacher’s head as Preacher was backing out of the same shed, his arms laden with firewood.
“Hey! Watch it!”
“Sorry, Preach.”
“Like the three stooges,” Frank Thickson muttered.
Preacher filled Denny’s arms with the firewood. “Here. Make yourself useful.”
“Gimme a load,” Frank said.
“Since we’re here and willing to help, why don’t you go back to the house and check on the family. We’ll bring your wood.”
“I don’t like being done for,” he said.
“Get over yourself,” Jack said from up on his ladder. And then he scooped another pile of snow on his cook’s head. He grinned. “Sorry, Preach.”
“Come down here and do wood!” Preacher commanded. “I’ll clean the roof!”
“That’s okay, buddy,” Jack said. “I got it.”
“You’re gonna get it!” the big man threatened.
Denny chuckled and started moving toward the house with his load of wood. Frank followed and Denny slowed. “Say, Frank, you have a lot of property out here. You ever keep a garden?”
“Summertime,” he grunted.
“There’s a reason I’m asking. I’m leaving my job out at Jilly Farms. You know, it used to be Hope McCrea’s place and Jillian Matlock has been farming it. Very interesting work. They’re going to be looking for someone—”
“Someone with one arm or two?” he asked.
“Jack’s right, you should get over yourself. I served two tours in the sandbox with the Marines—I know an unfortunate number of guys with missing limbs. I know it’s a struggle, but the crankier you are, the bigger your load is gonna be. You seem to do okay with one arm and you’re probably due to get a prosthesis before too long. You could at least talk to Jilly. You could at least try.”