Texas Miracle

by Mae Nunn

  “Well, don’t feel like you have to go to all of these with me or anything, but I’ve been scheduling meetings to talk up the plans for building a home.”

  “Uh-huh. How’s it going? Have you got some lined up? I know about the one tonight at my church.”

  “I know. You helped me get that one.”

  He grinned. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I’m nervous as a cat.”

  “Why? Those guys will love you. And Nemesis doesn’t get too nervous, that I’ve observed.”

  “Nemesis is no ordinary cat.” Jacqueline cleared her throat, looking down at her calendar. “Anyway, I have Rotary tomorrow during lunch.”

  “Hunt will be there for that.”

  “I know. But he’ll be cooking. It’s at Temple Territory.”

  Mac frowned. “Gillian’s on Rotary, too. One of them will be at the table I’m sure.”

  “I hope so. That would make me feel better.”

  “Do they know you’re coming?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Mac grabbed his phone and fired off a text. “Now they do.”

  Jacqueline smiled appreciatively. “The next one is the one I’m the most nervous about.”

  “What is it?”

  “City Council meeting.”

  “I think there are some pretty nice people on that.” Mac rubbed his chin. “Let’s see. Is Clint Cavender still on it?”

  “No. He rotated off.”

  “Bummer. Well, I still think it will be okay. Count me in for that one, too.”

  “Really?”

  “You bet. I’ve got to protect my interests, after all. I don’t want any of those councilmen trying to snatch you up.”

  Jacqueline rolled her eyes.

  “I’m serious!”

  * * *

  THE MEETING WITH the deacons could not have gone better. Mr. Richard Harty, who was chairman, opened the meeting with prayer. Then the group members went through their regular session, discussing needs of the church—business matters that had come to their attention—as well as different ministry projects involving their members. Jacqueline, who was listed on the meeting docket under “New Business,” sat patiently and waited for her turn to speak. She appreciated the humility the men exhibited and the fellowship the group obviously shared. They seemed to be from all walks of life and different ages. There was a farmer named Bob with silver hair who wore overalls. Eddie Van Sant, the bank president, was there in a gray pin-striped suit. There was a math teacher from the local high school, fresh out of college it appeared, a local bookstore owner and Waymon, the middle-aged guy who managed a convenience store on the edge of town. Mac, the designated secretary, took notes.

  When it was time for Jacqueline to speak, she started out with the quote Grandma Violet had mentioned to her, the one on the Statue of Liberty. She tried to appeal to their patriotism with a sense of America’s greatness because of its benevolence and openness to all who desired freedom. Then she shifted her focus to faith. Remembering how Harriet Beecher Stowe used the Bible to mobilize Christians against slavery, Jacqueline talked about immigration as one of the great issues of our day. She described in detail some of the horrors unaccompanied minors faced. Then she reminded them of how Jesus instructed His disciples to let the little children come to Him, how He declared that the kingdom of heaven belonged to them. Finally, she quoted a verse from the New Living Translation of the Bible, Matthew 25:35, where Jesus said, “For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home.”

  “I want to ask you for three things tonight.” Jacqueline looked into all of their eyes, gaining strength when she met Mac’s. She straightened her shoulders. “First, please pray for the children coming across our borders, and for me, as I try to help them.” Deep breath. “Second, please consider donating to the cause of building a safe home for them here in Kilgore. And finally, if the home becomes a reality as I hope it will, I’d ask that your church become involved in the activity of the home. We are going to need volunteers for virtually everything from cooking and cleaning, to tutoring and mentoring. It will be a great opportunity to show these kids Christian love. Thank you for listening.”

  The men asked her questions then, but nothing subversive or difficult. Jacqueline suspected their reception of her was due, in large part, to their respect for Mac. It was evident they loved him. Still, any person of sincere faith would be compelled by the words of Jesus. The more she read, the more she was compelled herself, and she’d never been what you’d call a Bible-thumper.

  “Boy, you hit a home run in there!” Mac said when they were inside his truck.

  “You think so?”

  “You had those guys around your little finger!”

  “They were really sweet and supportive.”

  “They loved you. Everyone except the preacher, that is.”

  Jacqueline grabbed her heart. “What on earth did I do to offend him?”

  “I think he’s afraid you might put him out of a job.”

  Jacqueline punched Mac in the ribs.

  “Easy, Reverend!”

  Rotary Club the next day was a little more difficult venue than the deacons. Because of this, Jacqueline was thankful the meeting was on Temple turf, and Gillian was present. She asked questions and raised concerns that made it easy for Jacqueline to share her heart and vision. As far as Rotary was concerned, she was mostly looking for support and community involvement, trying to build momentum. Many of the people seemed friendly and at least not opposed. Still, she could sense there was resistance among some of the more conservative members of the club. One man in particular, Rob Skelton, an attorney in town, got a little nasty.

  “Ms. Aimes, I understand you moved here recently from Afghanistan. What exactly is your investment in Kilgore? A value of Rotary—a question we are bound to ask—is, is it good for all concerned? And I can’t see how this home—” he spit the word out as if it tasted bad “—is good for all of the people of Kilgore.”

  Jacqueline tried to respectfully press him to explain, using specifics, what he saw as bad for the town, but his argument seemed to her to be couched in generalities. She had statistics to refute most of his points, but quickly decided it would do her cause more damage than good to argue with him. Still, on the whole, she felt the overall response was positive.

  * * *

  ON THE NIGHT of the City Council meeting, Jacqueline dressed modestly in a navy suit. Mac picked her up and they drove there together, with him giving her a pep talk all the way. She was just beginning to feel calm and steady her nerves when they turned onto the street where Kilgore’s Town Hall was located. Jacqueline caught her breath. Wearing red, white and blue, a small group of protesters lined the walk outside the front doors. Rob Skelton was among them, with another person she recognized from the Rotary meeting. They held signs that read No Home for Illegals and We Take Care of Our Own.

  “What the heck?” Mac frowned in disgust. “Who are these clowns?”

  He pulled into the parking lot and parked his truck.

  “Mac,” Jacqueline said, placing her hand on his leg. Her neck and chest were crawling with hives.

  “Take a deep breath, babe.”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. It hurt a little but grounded her. She exhaled slowly.

  “We’re getting out. I’m coming to get you.”

  Mac released her hand and jumped out, showing no hesitation. When he opened the passenger-side door, Jacqueline heard someone yell, “Is that Mac Temple? Is Mac Temple in on this?”

  She stepped out to the sound of angry voices, apparently directed at her. “This land is our land!”

  “No illegals here!”

  “Send ’em back to Mexico!”


  “Protect our borders!”

  As they walked side by side toward the building, Jacqueline felt Mac’s strong hand on the small of her back. She lifted her head. Though somebody tried to stop Mac, waving for his attention, they strode together past the protesters and through the doors of the Town Hall. Once inside, they took their seats in the front row of the audience, facing the council members, who were sitting semicircled around a table, looking uncomfortable. Police officers were stationed at the doors, allowing the public to enter and seat themselves in the audience as long as they were not unruly. The room filled up quickly.

  When Jacqueline was called to speak, her voice shook. Heat blazed on her cheeks. Her icy palms sweated. But she told the truth as she saw it, anyway. Somewhere between the truck and the podium that night, she had realized something important. And that was, that with or without the support of the powers that be in Kilgore, she would press on toward her goal of building a home for children, because it was the right thing to do. And it was the right thing to do in Kilgore. Mac had given her the land, which solidified her belief the home was meant to be built there. She hoped the community would get behind her. But if not, she would not let them stop her from realizing her dream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “I AM SO proud of you!” Mac scribbled on a note and passed it to Jacqueline as soon as she sat back down beside him. He could not wait till the meeting was over to tell her.

  She glanced at him after she read it, lips curving at the edges, and squeezed his hand.

  When it was finally time to leave, Mac took her hand. A few people stopped Jacqueline, genuinely interested in what she had said about the home and the children. He appreciated their kindness. What was so beautiful and powerful to him in that moment, however, was the change he saw in Jacqueline. She appeared to him like the Winged Victory of Samothrace sculpture—triumphant and beautiful. Somehow, she transcended the politics they had all come to play.

  “It’s like you’re levitating!” he told her when they got back to her house.

  She took off one of her navy heels and pointed it at him. “Right,” she said, taking off the other shoe. “But now I’m coming back down to earth.”

  She changed quickly out of her business suit into her loungewear. It didn’t matter anymore what she wore. As far as Mac was concerned, she could put on a paper bag—everything was sexy. This growing awareness only fueled the resolve he’d come to lately. He was definitely ready to settle down.

  “Thanks for being there for me tonight.” She cuddled up next to him on the couch.

  “I’m glad I could be.”

  “You know what? I think you may be all right, boss.”

  He laced his fingers through her long, lithe ones. “I am reformed. I told you, I’m done.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  Mac felt color rising to his cheeks. “You’re always asking me that.”

  “That’s because you always talk in riddles.”

  “Okay, Ms. Aimes. What it means is that we’re going to get married and have babies.”

  Jacqueline burst out laughing.

  “Gosh, I’m so offended!” Mac pretended to grouch.

  She stroked the back of his hand. “You have it all planned, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Yep,” he said honestly. “Scared to death. What about you?”

  “Not really. Not anymore.”

  She laid her head on his chest. He could hear her breathing.

  “You know, if you’re going to talk big like that, you better get a ring.” She traced the outline of a heart on his hand.

  He smiled. “I can do that.” Little did she know he already had.

  * * *

  “JOINER,” MAC SAID when he called his brother on the way home from Jacqueline’s. “I need your help.”

  “What’s up, bro?”

  “You and Stella have to help me.”

  “Okay, we will. With what, though? What’s going on?”

  Joiner sounded sleepy.

  “I’m going to ask Jacqueline to marry me.”

  Mac heard the phone hit the floor. After loud rustling, Joiner was back.

  “Dude! That’s awesome!”

  “I know. I know.” Mac deep-belly laughed. “But I want it to be really good.”

  “Come over here.”

  “Right now?” It was ten o’clock at night. “I don’t want to keep you guys up.”

  “Right now. Stella says get yourself over here right now.”

  Mac laughed. “I’m on my way.”

  The baby was miraculously in her bed asleep when Mac arrived. Joiner and Stella looked like kids on Christmas morning. Stella literally bounced up and down. “I’m so happy for you!” She hugged and kissed Mac, her cheeks wet with tears.

  The two of them were in their pajamas, which for Joiner meant boxers and nothing else. Mac briefly wished he might borrow Joiner’s six-pack for the first time Jacqueline saw him without a shirt, and he said so.

  “Trust me, you don’t need to be anyone but yourself,” Stella piped up. “That girl is crazy about you.”

  “Yes,” Joiner added. “But I do think maybe we should pause a moment and just thank God Mac didn’t run her off before this occasion came.”

  Stella looked at her husband, shaking her head. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “I truly am thankful for that,” Mac admitted. “She’s a patient woman.”

  “She’ll need to be patient to live with you,” Joiner said. Stella elbowed him in the ribs.

  “We think you’re well worth it.” She clutched Mac’s arm, becoming teary eyed again.

  Mac took a deep breath. “I need some ideas from the experts. Where should I ask her? How should I do it?”

  They talked late into the night, and by the time Mac left their house, he had a perfect plan.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  THE NEXT FEW weeks were busy for Jacqueline. She met with various other churches and civic organizations, asking for support for the children’s home. A retired builder from one of the churches offered his aid when she was ready to start construction. A couple of private donations also came in, boosting her spirits. The Cavender family gave a sizable amount. And surprisingly enough, a celebrity Gillian and Hunt knew sent a donation for $10,000.

  Jacqueline’s first goal was to collect enough money to build the home, or at least make a significant down payment so she might be able to pay the monthly mortgage out of her own pocket. The next tier of fund-raising, however, was to draw monthly supporters who could be counted on to pay monthly bills. So far, five churches had committed to a monthly amount, which was wonderful, but she still had a long way to go. The whole thing was a leap of faith for Jacqueline, but she was becoming more accustomed to that.

  She and Alma were working on a way for the home to generate money, which would be an innovation in current practice. The other homes she had researched operated solely through charity and/or government grants. Because of Jacqueline’s background with KARIS and passion for education, however, she wanted to see the older children who would come through the home gain skills they could take into the workforce. Alma suggested setting up a commercial kitchen where she could teach kids how to prepare basic food such as corn and flour tortillas, sopaipillas, tres leches cake, banana bread and flan, which they could then sell to the public. A sort of niche bakery. It would be a connection to their culture, as well as a way to generate income.

  There was so much to do, it was sometimes overwhelming. Jacqueline’s work with KARIS had taught her the more structure she could have in place before the kids arrived, the better off she would be. Therefore, Jacqueline applied for every available grant, talked to local doctors about providing health care and t
o therapists about treatment for PTSD, as many displaced children suffered from it. She was also in talks with school officials to pave the way for her kids to integrate as soon as possible after they arrived in Kilgore.

  With Carlos Muniz’s help, as well as a recommendation from Therese at KARIS, Jacqueline had established a relationship with the branch of the Department of Health and Human Services’ Office of Refugee Resettlement operating in El Paso. She learned more about the way the process worked once children crossed the border into the United States and were apprehended by the Department of Homeland Security, and Customs and Border Protection. As the CBP could legally hold the children for only seventy-two hours, they had to be moved to temporary shelters operated by the ORR, who placed them in the care of family members already living in the United States, with foster-care families or, if there was nowhere else to go, in detention facilities. Since her initial research, Jacqueline had heard harrowing stories about the lack of options when the detention centers were full. Some children had literally been left in parking lots to fend for themselves after the seventy-two-hour period. This was why Jacqueline’s home would be crucial. If she could meet all of the criteria, as well as arrange transportation for the children from El Paso to Kilgore, her home could become a service provider—a temporary shelter for those most vulnerable. And Thelma Johnson, who continued to be a great resource and help, was working on the transportation through her office.

  While the home would be considered temporary, the reality was she needed to be prepared for children to stay for any length of time. Just as she’d explained to Alma, each child would receive a Notice to Appear in immigration court. A judge would make the final determination whether the child would be deported or remain in the States, either through the asylum process or on a special immigrant juvenile visa available to children who showed special cases of abuse or neglect by a parent. For some children, it took years to make it through the system. Her contact at the ORR had set up a meeting for Jacqueline to discuss the criteria her home must meet, as well as a visit to one of the current facilities for children in El Paso.