His Mistletoe Family. Ruth Herne Logan

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      Chapter One

      Despair should never be allowed to rule Thanksgiving Day.

      Haley Jennings eyed the two camouflage-clad little boys in her backseat, mentally searching for anything she might have ever learned about children in her twenty-eight years on the planet.

      She came up empty. That didn’t sound promising for the orphaned nephews now in her care.

      Tear tracks snaked a path down three-year-old Todd’s round cheeks, a worn, black stuffed kitty named Panther clutched tight against his chest. Five-year-old Tyler slumped against the corner of the car, burrowing, as if hoping to disappear into the upholstery. He shed no tears, but the quiet look of abandonment seemed worse for lack of emotion.

      Scared. Uncertain. Handed off as though they were parcel post packages from one place to another. And no doubt hungry, but few restaurants were open this late on Thanksgiving Day, a should-be-glorious holiday of roast turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy and stuffing.

      The thought of homemade stuffing made her mouth water. How much more must two little fellows be longing for a good old-fashioned holiday?

      Part of her was glad their maternal great-aunt had found Anthony’s will that named her the boys’ guardian. Another part longed to run screaming.

      She took the turn toward Jamison, knowing she had no food in her recently acquired no-frills apartment and the grocery store had closed mid-afternoon. And with the boys’ meager belongings piled and shoved into every corner of her convertible, she had no room for a shopping trip and precious few funds to bankroll extra groceries this week.

      Whoever said God’s timing was perfect should be chastised, because this situation was about as far from perfect as life could get.

      A flashing sign caught her attention as she approached the Park Round, the picturesque town circle surrounded by five country churches and a couple of pastors’ homes.

      Free Thanksgiving Dinner!

      Join us from 2:00 till 5:00 on Thanksgiving Day

      for a friend-filled holiday feast! All are welcome!

      An arrow pointed toward the back of Good Shepherd Church. An upgraded older building stood there, caught in the trees, an aged steeple rising white against the late-November drab of damp bark. A chill wind bowed the sticklike trees, but the white-washed hall was surrounded by cars and bathed in light from garden stake lamps below.

      Dinner.

      Free.

      One glance at her dashboard clock said they were nearing the late side of the offer. She faltered, not wanting to subject the boys to any more disappointments on a day that should be filled with family. Fun. Food. Rejoicing.

      The word feast turned her hands on the wheel. Or maybe it was the Holy Spirit. In any case, she angled the car up the drive and into a parking spot. She climbed out and tilted the driver’s seat forward, banging her head and knee in the process.

      Red ragtops weren’t designed as family vehicles.

      “Where are we going?” Tyler eyed her from his booster seat, glancing around to discern an easy way out of the car. There wasn’t one.

      “Climb out this way.” Haley jerked her head toward her side as she struggled with the puzzlelike latches on Todd’s car seat. Who knew you needed a math degree to figure out a five-point latch system? “Once I’ve got your brother out, that is.”

      As she pulled Todd from the backseat, she managed to bump his head, too. Not too badly, but enough to start the waterworks flowing, full steam ahead. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” She crooned the words and rubbed the spot, wishing she’d thought to cushion his head with her hand while extracting him.

      Next time, for sure.

      “I hate this car.” Tyler made the pronouncement as he finagled his way across small bags and totes shoved into the backseat.

      “I’m not all that fond of it myself at this moment,” Haley assured him. “But it’s paid for and it runs and at one time it was a status symbol. Cute blonde chick in blazing hot red convertible with mag wheels.”

      “It’s dumb.” Tyler brushed off his five-year-old knees with an air of impatience. “And we don’t fit.”

      There lay the crux of the problem. Todd and Tyler hadn’t “fit” in a long time. These two little boys had lost their mother and father in the past two years and they’d been shuffled around to various homes for months—way too much change for a level-headed grown-up.

      Two boys, aged three and five?

      Ridiculous.

      But possibly made more outlandish by her half brother’s will naming her their legal guardian. Anthony scarcely knew her. She barely knew him. They shared a father and a legal relationship recognized by courts. Other than that? They’d met half a dozen times over the years, mostly at weddings and funerals.

      What was he thinking?

      The door to the hall swung open and a couple of old-timers stepped out. “Ma’am, may I hold the door for you?” An old man dipped his head in courtly fashion, a shock of white hair dancing in the wind. “That wind’s a breath-stealer, sure enough.”

      She hesitated, not wanting to ask if there was still food, not daring to get the boys’ hopes up only to dash them again. “I, um...”

      “Plenty of good eats in there, miss, and I think those two boys are just the thing for them folks inside. Nothin’ like bein’ ’round a couple o’ young-uns to remind us why we keep on keepin’ on.”

      His words eased her path. Did he see the hunger? Or the fear? Or both?

      In any case, Haley grasped a boy’s hand in each of hers and walked the last twenty paces. “Thank you, sir.”

      “Jed, have a mind, will you, and close that door,” bossed a woman’s voice from within. “My tablecloths are being tugged every which way!”

      The old guy exchanged a grin with Haley, winked at the boys and hollered back, “Customers, mother! We’ve got two young soldiers in need of a bite.”

      Haley stepped inside, Todd on her right, Tyler on her left. Silence descended as she and the boys moved СКАЧАТЬ