“How are you this morning, Marnie?” Esther asks, smiling at me.
“Excited about today,” I admit, stowing my own coat as well as Becca’s that I’ve grabbed from the chair it was flung on and hanging them on the hooks by the back door. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way around the holidays.”
PJ coos, causing Holly to pick him up and cradle him against her chest. Longing spears through me, but then I look at the littlegirl who has already captured my heart and it settles. No matter what, from here on out, she’s going to have the absolute best life.
“Okay, ladies, y’all need to wash your hands so we can get started,” Esther says.
It’s not long before she has the girls ‘cutting out’ the cookies with a bit of help from Holly, who now has PJ strapped to her in one of those baby swaddle things. He’s always content when he can hear a heartbeat, preferably, his mother’s. Meanwhile, I’m rolling the dough for sesame seed cookies, which has always been a favorite of mine.
“Are we making snowballs this year, Grammy?” Ruby asks.
“I hope so! It’s fun to shake them in the bags,” Mina says.
“We are, yes, once the pies come out and are cooling,” Esther replies. “I’m glad I have two ovens right now, that’s for sure, because we need those for our Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Holy cow, that’s a lot of goodies,” I murmur, looking at the table laden with all the spoils from today’s baking.
“The boys can all eat,” Esther replies as she finishes placing the last of the cookies in a tin. “They have bottomless pits for stomachs. We’ll make more cookies, probably next week, but Paul plans to run these batches over to the shelter.”
Something crosses my mind and I ask, “Does the town have an Angel tree, or anything like that?”
“They do,” Holly confirms. “In fact, as a club, this year, we’re going to purchase all the bikes and safety equipment for the kidswho asked for one this year. Rebel reached out and got the list of ages and preferences from the director of DFCS. They’ll then cross off the bikes on those lists, of course, since we’ll have those covered. But we’re planning to pick several children from the tree on top of that because we have a lot to be thankful for this year, don’t we girls?”
“We do, Mama,” Mina agrees. “Can we go to Mistletoe Mountain this year?”
“What’s Mistletoe Mountain?” I question, not recalling if I’ve ever heard anyone mention it before now. I should probably know seeing as I’m not a newbie in town, but even though I’ve been around the club for a few years, I’ve been more on the periphery than in the thick of things like I am now.
“Let me see how to best explain it,” Holly starts, “you know our snowfall is kind of sporadic, right?” At my nod, she continues. “So, a few years ago, the town decided to create a snow-themed activity and it’s grown exponentially. While they rely slightly on whatever snow wedoget, most of it is artificially created. There’s snow tubing down a huge hill, giant slides, an area for ice skating, food trucks, holiday vendors, and a local Christmas tree farm brings out a selection of gorgeous trees. It opens on Friday, in fact.”
I feel a tug on my sleeve and look down to see Becca smiling up at me. “Do you… can we go?” she asks, her voice shaky.
Crouching down, I pull her in for a gentle hug, then say, “I think that sounds like a lot of fun, so I’ll talk to your uncle later.”
“We should go as a club,” Holly states, smirking. “There’s nothing funnier than seeing a bunch of overgrown boys actinglike little kids and based on how they were at Halloween with the haunted houses, I bet this would be a blast.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” I reply.
“What are we doing?” Ash asks, walking through the back door with several folding chairs in his hands, Rebel directly behind him, carrying the same load.
I watch in astonishment as more of the brothers walk through, with tables and chairs, then they start setting them up in the huge family room. Esther grabs a stack of what I see are tablecloths and heads in their direction.
“Girls? Let’s get these tables wiped down so we can start getting them set up,” she commands, putting a drill sergeant to shame. “Come on now, chop chop. We still have things to get ready for our Thanksgiving feast tomorrow!”
Hours later, with everything prepped as much as possible, Ash follows me as we head back to the clubhouse, Becca chattering away in the backseat about everything she helped do today. “So, you had fun?” I question, glancing in the rearview mirror.
Her eyes are sparkling as she nods. “It was the best day ever,” she whispers. “And I get to see Mina tomorrow, too!”
Laughing, I pull into the designated area where the cars park, then wait for Ash to open my door before he helps Becca get out. He leans in and kisses me before swinging her up in his arms, saying, “Wait until y’all see the tree we found for the clubhouse!”
I follow behind them, listening to her tell him about all the cookies she helped cut out and bake today, smiling at how she’s already settling into her new life and growing more comfortable with us as the minutes tick by. Memories of the times when I was taken care of by relatives when my mom was in and out of the hospital flit through my mind, but I push them away, determined to show Becca a different, stable, and loving life.
I never told my mom how I was made to feel as though I was a nuisance and an inconvenience. She was already fighting for her life; how could I tell her that those she entrusted with my care were almost as evil to me as the aunt who abused Becca was to her? Shuddering, I stop in my tracks when I see the size of the tree that takes up a whole corner of the common room. The wonderful aroma of a freshly cut tree assails my nose and I giggle when I see that Prophet and Data are up on huge ladders stringing the lights.
“Holy cow,” I whisper as Becca excitedly claps. “That’s a big monster for sure!”
“We’re gonna need more lights,” Prophet yells out.
“I’ll see if I can overnight any,” I reply. “What kind are you using?’ I ask, walking closer. “Ah, okay,” I muse, seeing the multicolored LED light strand that Prophet holds up so I can get a better look. Pulling out my phone, I see that I can do a delivery order and have them here by ten tonight. “How many more strands?” I ask, my fingers hovering over the keys.
