The Greatest Gift

“I hate to ask,” she said, “but the kids have to go to school and Jack took the car. I don’t have a way to go.”

There was an indrawn breath. “I’ll be right over,” she began.

“Tammy, I’m at the homeless shelter.” It bruised her pride to say that. It made her feel less decent, somehow, as if she’d failed her children. “It’s just temporary,” she added quickly.

“Oh, Mary,” she groaned. “I noticed the For Rent sign on your place, but I didn’t know what to think. I’m so sorry.”

“The divorce became final Friday. Jack is failing to pay alimony or child support…and we were evicted.” She sighed. “I’m so tired, so scared. I’ve got nothing and three kids…”

“You could stay with us,” came the immediate reply.

Mary smiled, seeing the other woman’s quiet, kind smile in her mind. “No, thank you,” she added gently. “We have to make it on our own. Jack might track us down at your house, you know. I don’t want the children close to him. We’ll find a place. I’ll get the loan of a car later, but right now, I have to have the kids in school before I go to work. I can take John with me, but the others must be in school.”

“I’ll come and get you,” Tammy said. “Be five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Mary choked.

“You’d do it for me in a heartbeat,” she replied. “And you know it.”

“I would.” It was no lie.

“Five minutes.” She hung up.

Sure enough, five minutes later, Tammy was sitting in front of the shelter, waiting. Mary put the kids in the back of the station wagon, with John strapped securely in his car seat.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she told the woman.

“It’s not a problem. Here. Give this to the kids.” It was two little brown envelopes, the sort mothers put lunch money in. Mary almost broke down as she distributed the priceless little packets to the children.

First stop was grammar school, where Mary went in with Ann and explained the situation, adding that nobody was to take Ann from school except herself or her friend Tammy. Then they went to middle school, where Mary dropped off Bob and met with the vice principal to explain their situation again.

Finally they were down just to John.

“Where do you go now?” she asked Mary.

“To Debbie Shultz’s house,” she said. “She and Mark have about eight cars,” she said fondly. “They’ll loan me one if I ask. They’ve been clients of mine for ten years. They’re good people. They don’t even mind if John comes with me—they have a playpen and a high chair and a baby bed, just for him.”

“You know, you may not have money and means, but you sure have plenty of people who care about you,” Tammy remarked with a grin.

“I do. I’m lucky in my friends. Especially you. Thanks.”

Tammy shrugged. “I’m having a nice ride around town, myself,” she said with twinkling eyes. “Before you go to work, want to try that motel you mentioned?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“If I did, I’d still be at home putting on a pot roast for supper,” Tammy said blandly. “Where is it?”

Mary gave her directions. Tammy was dubious, but Mary wasn’t.

“One of my friends had to leave home. She went to the women’s shelter first, and then she came here until she got a job. She said the manager looks out for people, and it’s a good decent place. Best of all, it’s not expensive. If you’ll watch John for a minute…”

“You bet!”

Mary walked into the small office. The manager, an elderly man with long hair in a ponytail and a young smile, greeted her.

“What do you rent rooms for on a weekly basis?” she asked after she’d told him her name. “I have three children, ranging in age from thirteen to a toddler.”

He noted the look on her face. He’d seen it far too often. “Fifty dollars a week,” he said, “but it’s negotiable. Forty’s plenty if that’s what you can manage comfortably,” he added with a grin. “You can use the phone whenever you like, and there’s a hot plate in the room where you can heat up stuff. We have a restaurant next door,” he added, “when you want something a little hotter.”

“I couldn’t afford the restaurant,” she said matter-of-factly, but she smiled. “I’ll have the money tonight, if I can come after work with the kids.”

“They in school?”

“Two are.”

“Is one old enough to look after the others?”

“Bob’s thirteen, almost fourteen. He’s very responsible,” she added.

“Bring them here after school and pay me when you can,” he said kindly. “I’ll check on them for you and make sure they stay in the room and nobody bothers them.”

She was astonished at the offer.

“I ran away from home when I was twelve,” he said coldly. “My old man drank and beat me. I had to live on the streets until an old woman felt sorry for me and let me have a room in her motel. I’m retired military. I don’t need the money I make here, but it keeps me from going stale, and I can do a little good in the world.” He smiled at her. “You can pass the help on to someone less fortunate, when you’re in better economic times.”

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!”

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