Her face brightened. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “We all live in the world. It’s easier to get along if we help each other out in rough times. The room will be ready when you come back, Mrs. Crandall.”
She nodded, smiling. “I’ll have the money this afternoon, when I get off work. But I’ll bring the children first.”
“I’ll be expecting them.”
She got back into the car with Tammy, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her. “They said he was a kind man, not the sort who asked for favors or was dangerous around kids. But I had no idea just how kind he really is until now.” She looked at Tammy. “I never knew how it was before. If you could see the homeless people, the things they don’t have…I never knew,” she emphasized.
Tammy patted her hand. “Not a lot of people do. I’m sorry you have to find out this way.”
“Me, too,” Mary said. She glanced back at the motel. “I wish I could do something,” she added. “I wish I could help.”
Tammy only smiled, and drove her to her job.
Debbie was aghast when she learned what had happened to Mary in the past twenty-four hours.
“Of course you can borrow a car,” she said firmly. “You can drive the Ford until the tires go bald,” she added. “And I’ll let you off in time to pick up the kids at school.”
Debbie’s kids were in grammar school now, so the nursery was empty during the morning. Mary had made a habit of taking John to work with her, because Jack had never been in any condition to look after him.
Mary had to stop and wipe away tears. “I’m sorry,” she choked. “It’s just that so many people have been kind to me. Total strangers, and now you…I never expected it, that’s all.”
“People are mostly kind, when you need them to be,” Debbie said, smiling. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’re a terrific housekeeper, you always keep me organized and going strong. You’re always smiling and cheerful, even when I know you’re the most miserable. I think a lot of you. So does Mark.”
“Thanks. Not only for the loan of the car, but for everything.”
Debbie waved a hand. “It’s nothing. If I were starving and in rags, then it might be, but I can afford to be generous. I’ll get you up some things for the kids, too. Please take them,” she added plaintively. “You of all people know how choked my closets are with things I bought that the kids won’t even wear!”
Mary laughed, because she did know. “All right then. I’ll take them, and thanks very much.”
“Have you got a place to stay?” was the next question.
“I have,” Mary said brightly. “That was unexpected, too. It’s a nice place.”
“Good. Very good. Okay. I’ll leave you to it. Just let me know when you’re going after the kids and I’ll watch John for you.”
“Thanks.”
Debbie just smiled. She was the sort of person who made the most outlandish difficulties seem simple and easily solved. She was a comfort to Mary.
The end of the first day of their forced exile ended on a happy note. From utter devastation, Mary and the kids emerged with plenty of clothing—thanks to Debbie and some of her friends—sheets and blankets and pillows, toiletries, makeup, and even a bucket of chicken. Not to mention the loaned car, which was a generous thing in itself.
“I can’t believe it,” Bob said when she picked him up at school, putting him in the back with John while Ann sat beside her. “We’ve got a home and a car? Mom, you’re amazing!”
“Yes, you are,” Ann said, grinning, “and I’m sorry I whined last night.”
“You always whine,” Bob teased, “but then you’re a rock when you need to be.”
“And you’re an angel with ragged wings, you are, Mama,” Ann said.
“We all have ragged wings, but I’ll have a surprise for you at the motel,” she added.
“What is it?” they chorused.
She chuckled. “You’ll have to wait and see. The manager is Mr. Smith. He’ll look out for you while I’m away. If you need to get in touch with me, he’ll let you use the phone. I’ll always leave you the name and number where I’ll be, so you can reach me if there’s an emergency.”
“I think we’ve had enough emergencies for a while,” Bob said drolly.
Mary sighed. “Oh, my, I hope we have!”
She loaded up the car with all the nice things Debbie had given her, and put the children in the car. Debbie had a brand-new baby car seat for John that she’d donated to the life-rebuilding effort as well. When he was strapped into it, Mary impulsively hugged Debbie, hiding tears, before she drove away. The old seat was coming apart at the seams and it couldn’t have been very safe, but there had been no money for a new one. Something Debbie knew.
Bob and Ann met her at the door with dropped jaws as she started lugging in plastic bags.
“It’s clothes! It’s new clothes!” Ann exclaimed. “We haven’t had new clothes since…” Her voice fell. “Well, not for a long time,” she added, obviously feeling guilty for the outburst. They all knew how hard their mother worked, trying to keep them clothed at all. She went to her mother and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry. That sounded awful, didn’t it?”
Mary hugged her back. “No, it just sounded honest, honey,” she said softly.
The other two children crowded around her, and she gathered them in close, giving way to tears.
“What’s wrong?” Bob asked worriedly. “Is there anything else you’re not telling us?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s just that people have been so good to us. Total strangers. It was such a surprise.”
“My friend Timmy says we meet angels unawares when we don’t expect to,” Ann said in her quiet, sensible way.
“Perhaps that’s true, baby,” Mary agreed, wiping her eyes. “We’ve met quite a few today.” She looked around at her children. “We’re so fortunate to have each other.”
They agreed that this was the best thing of all.
“And chicken,” Bob exclaimed suddenly, withdrawing a huge bucket of it from the plastic bag.
“Chicken…!”
Little hands dived into the sack, which also contained biscuits and individual servings of mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans. Conversation abruptly ended.
Life slowly settled into a sort of pattern for the next couple of days as the memory of the terrifying first day and night slowly dimmed and became bearable.
The third night, Mary walked gingerly into the restaurant Mr. Smith had told her about, just at closing time.
“Excuse me,” she said hesitantly.
A tall, balding man at the counter lifted his head and his eyebrows. “Yes, ma’am?” he asked politely.
“I was wondering…” She swallowed hard. She dug into her pocket and brought out a five dollar bill left over from the weekly rent she’d paid in advance. “I was wondering if you might have some chicken strips I could buy. Not with anything else,” she added hastily, and tried to smile. “It’s so far to the grocery store, and I’d have to take all three children with me…” She didn’t want to add that they had hardly any money to buy groceries with, anyway, and that Mr. Smith was at his poker game tonight and couldn’t watch the children for Mary while she drove to the store.
The man sized up her callused hands and worn appearance. Three kids, she’d said, and judging by the way her shoes and sweater looked, it wasn’t easy buying much, especially food.
“Sure, we have them,” he said kindly. “And we’re running a special,” he lied. “I’ll be just a minute.”
She stood there in her sensible clothes feeling uncomfortable, but it only took a minute for the man to come back, smiling, with a plastic bag.
“That will be exactly five dollars,” he said gently.
She grinned, handing him the bill. “Thanks a million!”
He nodded. “You’re very welcome.”
She took the chicken strips back to the motel and shared them around. There were so m
any that they all had seconds. She was over the moon. But there was always tomorrow, she worried.
She needn’t have. The next afternoon, when she dragged in after work, she found the man from the restaurant on her doorstep.
“Look, I don’t want to insult you or anything,” he said gently. “But I know from your manager here that you’re having a rough time. We always have food left over at night at our restaurant,” he said kindly. “You see, we can’t carry it over until the next day, it has to be thrown out. I could let you have what there is. If it wouldn’t insult you. If you’d like it?”
“I’d like it,” she said at once, and smiled. “Oh, I’d like it so much! Thank you.”
He flushed. “It’s no problem. Really. If you don’t mind coming over about ten o’clock, just as we’re closing?”
She laughed. “I’ll be there. And thank you!”
She went to the restaurant exactly at ten, feeling a little nervous, but everybody welcomed her. Nobody made her feel small.
The restaurant assistant manager went to the back and had the workers fill a huge bag full of vegetables and meats and fruits in neat disposable containers. He carried it to the front and presented it to Mary with a flourish. “I hope you and the children enjoy it,” he added with a smile.
She started to open her purse.
“No,” he said. “You don’t need to offer to pay anything. This would only go into the garbage,” he said gently. “That’s the truth. I’d much rather see it used and enjoyed.”
“I’m Mary Crandall,” she said. “My children and I thank you,” she added proudly.
“I’m Cecil Baker,” he replied. “I’m the assistant manager here. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Thank you,” she said huskily. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s my pleasure. I hate waste. So much food goes into the trash, when there are people everywhere starving. It’s ironic, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
“Here. I’ll get the door for you.”
She grinned up at him as she went out. “I can’t wait to see the children’s faces. They were only hoping for a chicken finger apiece,” she added, chuckling.
He smiled, but pity was foremost in his mind. He watched her walk back the way she’d come, to the small motel.
Mary walked into the motel with her bag. Bob and Ann looked up expectantly from the board game they were playing. The toddler, John, was lying between them on the floor, playing with his toes.
“More chicken strips?” Bob asked hopefully.
“I think we have something just a little better than that,” she said, and put her bag down on the table by the window. “Bob, get those paper plates and forks that we got at the store, would you?”
Bob ran to fetch them as Ann lifted John in her arms.
Mary opened the bag and put out container after container of vegetables, fruits and meats. There were not only chicken strips, but steak and fish as well. The small refrigerator in the room would keep the meats at a safe temperature, which meant that this meager fare would last for two days at least. It would mean that Mary could save a little more money for rent. It was a windfall.
She held hands with the children and she said grace before they ate. Life was being very good to her, despite the trials of the past week.
CHAPTER TWO
Mary took the children with her to the grocery store on Friday afternoon. It was raining and cold. Trying to juggle John, who was squirming, and the paper bag containing the heaviest of their purchases, milk and canned goods, she dropped it.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she groaned. “Here, Ann, honey, take John while I run down the cans of tuna fish…!”
“I’ll get them,” came a deep voice from behind her. “I’m a fair fisherman, actually, but catching cans of tuna is more my style.”
Mary turned and saw a police officer grinning at her. She recognized him at once. “Officer Clark!” she exclaimed. “How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for us?” she exclaimed. “Bev has been wonderful. We have a place to stay, now, too!”
He held up a hand, smiling. “You don’t need to thank me, Mrs. Crandall. It was my pleasure.”
In the clear daylight, without the mental torment that had possessed her at their first meeting, she saw him in a different way. He was several years older than she was, tall and a little heavy, but not enough to matter. He was good-looking. “You seem to have your hands full as it is,” he added, scooping up the cans and milk jug. “I’ll carry them for you.”
“Thank you,” she said, flustered.
He shrugged. “It isn’t as if I’m overwhelmed with crime in this neighborhood,” he said, tongue-in-cheek. “Jaywalking and petty theft are about it.”
“Our car’s over here. Well, it’s not really our car,” she added, and then could have bitten her tongue.
“You stole it, I guess,” the policeman sighed. “And here I thought I was going to end my shift without an hour’s paperwork.”
“I didn’t steal it!” she exclaimed, and then laughed. “My employer let me borrow it…”
“On account of Dad taking our car away after he left us,” Bob muttered.
The policeman pursed his lips. “That’s a pretty raw way to treat someone.”
“Alcohol and drugs,” she said, tight-lipped.
He sighed. “I have seen my share of that curse,” he told her. “Are all these really yours?” he added, nodding toward the kids. “You didn’t shoplift these fine children in the store?” he added with mock suspicion.
The children were laughing, now, too. “We shoplifted her,” Bob chuckled. “She’s a great mom!”
“She keeps house for people,” Ann added quietly.
“She works real hard,” Bob agreed.
“Have you got a house?” the policeman asked.
“Well, we’re living in a motel. Just temporarily,” Mary said at once, flushing. “Just until we find something else.”
The policeman waited for Mary to unlock the trunk and he put the groceries he was carrying into it gingerly. Bob and Ann added their packages.
“Thanks again, Officer Clark,” Mary said, trying not to let him see how attractive she found him. It was much too soon for that.
“Do you have any kids?” Ann asked him, looking up with her big eyes.
“No kids, no family,” he replied with a sad smile. “Not by choice, either.”
He looked as if he’d had a hard life. “Well, if you haven’t stolen the car, and you need no further assistance, I’ve no choice but to go back to my car and try to catch a speeder or two before my shift ends. I hope I’ll see you around again, Mrs. Crandall…. Mary.”
“Are you married?” she blurted out.
He chuckled. “Not hardly. I entered the divorced state ten years ago, and I heartily recommend it. Much better than verbal combat over burned potatoes every single night.”
“Your wife couldn’t cook?” Mary asked involuntarily.
“She wouldn’t cook and I couldn’t cook, which led to a lot of the combat,” he told her with a chuckle. “Drive safely, now.”
“I will. You, too.”
He walked off jauntily, with a wave of his hand.
“And I used to think policemen were scary,” Bob commented. “He’s really nice.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Mary murmured, and she watched him as he got into his squad car and pulled out of the parking lot. She found herself thinking that she had a very odd sort of guardian angel in that police uniform.
Mary went to her jobs with increasing lack of strength and vigor. She knew that some of the problem had to be stress and worry. Despite the safe haven she’d found, she knew that all her children had only her to depend on. Her parents were dead and there were no siblings. She had to stay healthy and keep working just to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. In the middle of the night, she lay awake, worrying about what would happen if she should fail. The children would be split up and
placed into foster homes. She knew that, and it terrified her. She’d always been healthy, but she’d never had quite so much responsibility placed on her, with so few resources to depend on. Somehow, she knew, God would find a way to keep her and the children safe. She had to believe that, to have faith, to keep going.
Somehow, she promised herself, she would. After all, there were so many people who needed even more assistance than she did. She remembered the elderly gentleman at the homeless shelter, the mother with her new baby. The shelter had a small budget and trouble getting food.
Food. Restaurants couldn’t save food. They had to throw it out. If the restaurant near Mary’s motel room had to throw theirs out, it was logical to assume that all the other restaurants had to throw theirs out, too.
What a shame, she thought, that there were so many hungry people with no food, where there were also restaurants with enough leftover food to feed them. All people had to do was ask for it. But she knew that they never would. She never would have, in her worst circumstances. People were too proud to ask for charity.
She put the thought into the back of her mind, but it refused to stay there. Over the next few days, she was haunted by the idea. Surely there were other people who knew about the restaurant leftovers, but when she began checking around, she couldn’t find any single charity that was taking advantage of the fact. She called Bev at the homeless shelter and asked her about it.
“Well, I did know,” Bev confessed, “but it would entail a lot of work, coordinating an effort like that. I’ve sort of got my hands full with the shelter. And everybody I know is overworked and understaffed. There’s just nobody to do it, Mary. It’s a shame, too.”
“Yes, it is,” Mary agreed.
But it was an idea Mary couldn’t shake. Maybe nobody else was doing it because it was her job to do it, she thought suddenly. She’d always believed that people had purposes in life, things that they were put here on earth to do. But she’d thought hers was to be a wife and mother—and it was, for a time. But she had more to give than that. So perhaps here was her new purpose, looking her in the face.
More Than Words: Stories of Hope Page 3
