Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Iwas really hoping we could talk about what we’re going to do this year. It’s always good to get some plans in before things get too wild, and we end up not being able to find a day that works for everyone.” Marjorie sat at the head of the table, looking down at all of her children.
Roland loved these dinners and enjoyed the time to get together with his family. But it also was a really great time to hear who needed help. He certainly was listening to conversations with a different ear than he used to.
Summer, who had removed some of the food from the table, sat back down.
“We should be able to do whatever works for everyone else. Once school is out, all of the school things are over, and we should have two weeks that are mostly unbroken except for the three days we’re going to spend at Wilson’s in-laws.
” Charity listed those dates, and Marjorie jotted them down in a little notebook that she had.
Anyone else might have used their phone, but Marjorie was still old school.
His mother had little notes stuck all around the house.
Notes about gifts she was giving, and things that she had bought, and things that she planned to buy.
Ideas for decorations, and things that she wanted to get done every day.
It seemed like more and more her to-do lists went undone.
He looked at her, and she looked just as good as she usually did, except…was it his imagination that she seemed a little bit paler than usual?
They went around the table, talking about dates that suited everyone and finally settling on something.
Roland didn’t have to worry too much about it. All he had were the same things that everyone else had. He would be going to his nieces and nephews’ programs and the church programs and… He didn’t have a family of his own to worry about whether or not he would be here or there.
He supposed that was a positive, and he should appreciate that.
“Remember how we all used to sit around the fireplace on Christmas Eve and sing?” Amy asked, sitting beside Jones.
Roland was pretty sure they had just had a kicking match underneath the table.
But neither one of them seemed to be upset about it.
It was just one of the things that Amy and Jones constantly did—they’d known each other forever.
“Those are some of my favorite memories. After we got home from the candlelight service at church, no one ever wanted to go to bed.”
“I did,” Marjorie said, raising her hand.
Everyone at the table laughed.
“Right, Mom. Everyone but you wanted to stay up.”
“That’s because Mom had to take all the gifts and put them around the tree.”
“That’s true. I always did that after you guys went to bed. I guess that’s why I was always so tired on Christmas.”
“I know. The Christmas afternoon nap is another great tradition we always used to have—one that I didn’t appreciate until I was older,” Wilson said with a laugh.
“I don’t know why you waited until Christmas Eve to put the gifts around the tree. It’s not like you tried to convince us that Santa Claus was real or anything,” Amy said.
“I didn’t want you guys picking up the boxes and shaking them and figuring out what I had gotten you before we even got to Christmas,” Marjorie said, like it was obvious.
“If you had kids, you’d know that,” Isadora called from the other end of the table.
They all laughed, although there was a bit of sadness on Isadora’s face that bothered Roland.
Still, he couldn’t expect that a person would lose their husband and have their family be broken up and not have scars to show for it.
Later that evening, after the discussion at the table had ended, Roland found himself sitting on the floor in the living room, working on some props for the school play, and listening to the kids talk about their school and what they were doing.
Robert caught his ear when he talked about Miss Bushnell and the lines he was memorizing for their classroom play.
He knew exactly who Miss Bushnell was, and again, he tried to stop his sneer that automatically came when he heard her name.
It was an instinctive thing. Though Robert thought that she was a great teacher.
“We’re really blessed to have Miss Bushnell as his teacher,” Gilbert leaned over and said to Roland and Marjorie, who was sitting in the chair behind him.
“I know,” Marjorie said with her voice low. “The other third grade teacher is a good teacher. Above average even. But Miss Bushnell is just absolutely extraordinary. She turns school into an experience that can’t be replicated.”
His mother would know. She’d been a teacher herself, homeschooling them at times when they were growing up. Plus, she had enough grandkids in school to know a good teacher when she saw one.
It felt odd, listening to his family go on about Miss Bushnell and all of her charms as Summer joined the conversation, speaking low so that the kids wouldn’t hear.
The adults certainly didn’t want them to think any less of the other teacher, just in case the kids coming up didn’t have Miss Bushnell.
Although, they would certainly ask for her, which is what Summer said.
Roland figured that he ought to learn to at least have a tolerance for Nelly, since he probably was going to be hearing a lot about her over the years, because his siblings were almost certainly not done having children.
Unless he moved away, which he had absolutely no intention of doing. Who would take care of his mother? Who would run the Christmas tree farm? Who would be the Secret Saint?
He had really enjoyed the bit that he’d done and couldn’t wait to get into more.
Later, before he left, he approached Wilson. “Have you noticed Mom?” he said as he zipped up his coat.
“What about her?” Wilson asked as he held up a coat for his wife.
“She just seems extra tired, doesn’t she? Have you noticed anything?” He wanted to go on about the tiredness in her eyes and the fatigue that he’d seen, but he didn’t want to put words in Wilson’s mouth.
Wilson looked up to where his mother was deep in discussion with Amy and Terry.
“She looks fine to me,” he said with a shoulder shrug.
Roland sighed and closed his mouth tight. It was frustrating that Wilson wouldn’t at least give some credence to his words and look a little closer.
But he supposed he was in a hurry to get his wife and kids home and put them to bed.
Maybe Roland should have brought that up earlier in the evening.
But he knew as the baby of the family, he was the least likely to be taken seriously, even though he lived with his mom and saw her every day. It was hard to outgrow the “baby status” of being the youngest. Everyone treated him like he was still a kid, instead of a thirty-year-old adult.
“It was crazy. Somehow someone knew that we needed a special kind of dog food for the newest addition to our rescue, and that exact kind showed up the next morning—fifty pounds of it.” Amy was speaking in hushed tones to Summer, and Roland stopped to listen.
“Do you think it’s a Secret Saint thing?” Summer asked, sounding intrigued.
“I can’t imagine who else it would be. I mean, that stuff is expensive. We had known that we were going to need it and were organizing a fundraiser just to buy that particular brand, but…someone heard about it, somehow, and dropped it off.”
“I thought you had cameras up. Did they catch it?”
“We did. But the person was careful to park out of sight of the cameras, and they carried the dog food inside this cape thing. The hood was down low, and you really couldn’t even tell whether it was a man or a woman because the cape hid the entire figure.”
“Wow. That’s really sweet. And I guess… It doesn’t really matter if we ever find out who it is, does it?”
So…he had competition?
Wow. Whoever it was was organized and thoughtful.
Roland had to admit some respect for this person who was apparently trying to usurp his position as the Secret Saint.
He had been bequeathed as the next Secret Saint by Judd himself.
This person was stepping on his toes but in a good way.
It was nice that his family was being helped, since he probably wouldn’t think to use his Secret Saint position to help anyone in his family.
Although, Amy and Jones sometimes did struggle for money, because their shelter bills could become overwhelming.
Jones, as a licensed veterinarian, could make a lot of money, but that didn’t negate the fact that it still cost a lot to take care of the shelter animals, even though Jones could donate his own time and skills for a lot of things that other shelters would have to pay for or depend on donations for.
“I heard the Johnson family has a huge bill to pay from the car accident they had last summer, and they’re not sure how they’re going to buy heating fuel or firewood,” Summer said.
“I’m curious to see if the Secret Saint is going to donate any.
I sure wish I knew who it was, because I don’t have any firewood, but I would donate money in order for them to purchase some. ”
“It’s fun to think of someone doing things anonymously, isn’t it?” Charity said, nodding.
It sure was. Roland had to agree with that.
He pretended to pull on his other boot while he continued to listen to their conversation talking about the Johnsons.
He was already planning a firewood delivery for that evening.
He had prepared carefully to make sure that he avoided detection.
He would wait until his mom had gone to bed for the evening, and he’d already had the load of firewood that he was going to take sitting at the Christmas tree farm lot out of sight behind a shed.
He looked forward to loading up his pickup and taking it there. But it was going to take several hours, and he wanted to be able to get started as soon as he possibly could. He was determined to beat whoever this other Secret Saint might be and fill that need first.
He was pretty sure he had the best connections, because there wasn’t anyone else in Mistletoe Meadows who had the family he did.
Sometimes it was a bit of a pain to have so many older siblings, and then sometimes, like now, it was a blessing.
He tightened the tie on his boot, pulled his pant leg down, and slowly stood.
“Thanks for the meal,” he said to Summer and Gilbert as they helped his mom into her coat.
“It’s always nice of you to come. I know you’re single, and you could probably find a lot of other better things to do on a Friday night, but it’s nice to have you show up.”
“Oh, I don’t know that there are too many better things to do than spend the evening with family. And the kids are cute. That helps.”
“Don’t you let him fool you. It’s the food that brings him every time,” Gilbert said with a smirk.
Roland lifted his shoulder. In times past, that probably would have been true. But now it was more like the family gossip brought him.
He laughed a little to himself, because it wasn’t true. He loved his family and would always appreciate getting to spend time with them. But the gossip was definitely a perk right now.
He took his mom’s arm, and they started out the door. He helped her into the car, and she gave a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping, her head falling back against the headrest.
He walked around his truck thoughtfully.
After starting his pickup and moving out onto the road, knowing it was a short ride home, he didn’t wait very long before he said, “Mom?”
“Hmm?” she said, her head still back and her eyes closed.
“Have you been feeling okay? I mean, is there something that you want to talk about regarding your health?”
That felt really odd coming out, especially toward his mom, but he didn’t know how else to say it. He thought there was something going on, and short of saying, “I think you need to see a doctor,” he didn’t know how to phrase it.
“My goodness, no. I’m just fine. Why?” his mom said, lifting her head, opening her eyes, and putting a fake cheerful smile on.
He knew that smile. It was the kind of smile that she put on her face after getting six kids ready for church and fighting every one of them when they didn’t want to get up on Sunday morning.
She didn’t have to wear that smile too often, but he definitely recognized it.
“Mom. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m feeling fine. But sometimes I do worry a little bit about you. I mean, I love that you’re living with me, and I wouldn’t trade that for the world, but I hope you’re not here just because you think I need you.”
“No. But I do think you need me.”
“I do. But I wouldn’t want you to stay with me and not do what you feel like God wants you to do with your life because you’re too busy staying with me. You know?”
“Don’t worry. If God wants me to move, I’m sure that He will show me, and I’m not going to say no to Him.”
He paused and then tried another tack. “But since I’m living with you, and I see you every day, I feel like maybe you’re not facing the fact that there might be something wrong with you?”
“I told you, I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong. You worry too much. I think we ought to see about setting you up on a blind date. That’s what I think. I suppose that would give me more energy than anything.”
“Maybe not?” he said.
Marjorie laughed at his horrified reply, and then she launched into a story about a blind date that one of her classmates had set up for her in high school.
It was a story he hadn’t heard before, and he listened with interest. She effectively took his mind off his worry about her and her health and entertained him the rest of the way home.
It wasn’t until later that he realized that he hadn’t gotten her to agree to go to the doctor like he wanted to.