Once Upon A Thanksgiving: Season of Bounty / Home for Thanksgiving

“Bill left us with adequate supplies. He’ll send money from time to time. We won’t go hungry.”

“Didn’t think we were, either.”

“I not hungry.” Joey put his spoon down as if to prove he only ate because the food was before him.

Buck smiled. He appreciated Joey’s devotion, but not to the extent of him choosing to go hungry. “Finish it up.”

Joey hesitated only a moment before returning his attention to the food.

Rosie stood beside Buck. “He seems a little better today.”

“I hope so.”

But an hour later, after playing with Mattie and Junior, Joey curled up on the floor, exhausted. Buck carried him to bed and sat at his side, watching him. Surely he would regain his strength in a day or two and they could move on. But to where? And what did it matter? One place was the same as the next.

Joey slept through a lunch of soup and freshly baked bread. He was still asleep when a gentle knock sounded.

Buck sat at the table pretending a great interest in the pencil Junior had given him to sharpen, but every sense tingled with awareness as Kathleen stepped into the house, laughing about the wind tugging at her fine woolen coat. She shrugged out of it and hung it on a nail. “Hello, everyone.” She smiled at Rosie who held Lilly, leaned over and kissed the baby’s cheek, squatted to kiss Mattie’s forehead, hugged Junior and then finally lifted her attention to Buck. “Hello to you, too.”

“You’re a breath of sunshine.” He hadn’t meant to sound so adoring. He only meant she made everyone smile with her greeting.

Her cheeks flushed a very becoming pink, reminding him of summer sunrises. “I’m just passing on my own feelings of happiness.”

Rosie waggled her hand toward Buck. “He meant it as a compliment.” She gave Buck a scolding look. “We’re all glad to have you visit.” Silently she warned Buck not to ruin things for her. As if his very presence wasn’t enough to do that.

“I’m relieved to hear it.” Kathleen glanced about. “Where’s Joey?”

“Still sleeping.” Worry grabbed his gut. “He’s been sleeping a long time.” He rushed into the bedroom, pressed his hand to the boy’s forehead, but even without feeling his hot skin he knew the boy was again fevered. “I hoped he was getting better.”

Rosie brought in a basin of water, and both women hovered at the bedside while Buck stripped the boy to the waist and sponged him.

“I don’t think this is a good sign,” Rosie murmured. “Fevers that return every day generally mean something like lung fever.”

“No.” Buck wouldn’t allow it. “He’s just run down. He’ll be fine.”

“Let’s pray for God to strengthen his little body.” Kathleen reached for Rosie’s hand.

Buck understood Rosie’s hesitation. Hadn’t their ma prayed for God to intervene? It hadn’t happened. Instead she’d died, and he and Rosie had been on their own. But for Joey, his son, he’d storm the gates of heaven if he must. He reached for Kathleen’s hand, saw her start with surprise and likely shock, and he pulled back. But she reached out and clasped his hand on one side and Rosie’s on the other. From her flowed confidence and faith that poured into his heart. God could heal his boy. He knew it. He believed it. He bowed his head.

“Dear Heavenly Father.” Kathleen’s voice rang with love and joy. “You love us so much. You are the great healer. Touch Joey. Stop the fever. Show us what part we need to play, that Your name might be glorified. Amen.”

He pulled his hand to his knee, kept his head tilted down. He’d never heard such a simple prayer, and yet he felt he had stepped into the throne room of God.

He picked up the wet cloth and continued to sponge Joey. But no longer did his spirit fret.

The fever slowly abated as it had done before. He almost dared believe this might be the last time.

Joey opened his eyes and smiled. “Hi, Buck.”

“Hi, buddy. How you feeling?”

“Maybe a little hungry.”

Buck’s laugher was joined by Rosie’s and Kathleen’s. “Surely he’s on the mend.” He turned and gripped Kathleen’s shoulder. “Thanks to you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Thanks to God.” Her look of assurance filled him with a sense of wonder. God actually might care about him. Amazing. Or was it only Joey God cared about?

It was a question he didn’t care to answer at the moment.

Chapter Three

Kathleen couldn’t believe her boldness at taking Buck’s hand to pray. Praying came naturally enough to her. But what made her think it required holding a hand as solid and firm as the ground beneath her feet? Her palm still felt warmer than normal.

But she had no doubt God intervened for Joey’s improvement and would continue to do so. She silently prayed it would accomplish much more … that Rosie and Buck would find healing for whatever made them so fearful and kept them away from each other.

Joey ate a bowl of soup, played with the toys for a few minutes, then crawled into Buck’s lap and closed his eyes.

Kathleen watched the play of emotions on Buck’s face—worry, love, hope. He lifted his eyes to hers and allowed her to see the depth of his feelings. They caught at her heart. Then he ducked his head, pressing his cheek to Joey’s black hair.

Emotion clogged Kathleen’s throat. This kind of love awed her. Filled her heart with yearning.

She drew in a shaking breath, wondering at the lightness of the air she sucked in, which did little to relieve her need for oxygen.

Lilly slept in Rosie’s arms. Young Mattie whined.

“I need to put the little ones down for their nap.” Rosie pushed to her feet. “Come along, Junior. Time for you to have a sleep.”

“Mama, I want to play with Joey.”

Buck looked at his son. “I don’t think Joey feels much like playing at the moment. When you wake up he’ll likely be ready.”

Rosie took the children to the bedroom to settle them.

Kathleen expected Buck to do the same with Joey, but he stayed seated. She forced herself to remain still, though she longed to jump to her feet and pace the room. A crack in the wooden table caught her attention and she ran a fingernail along it.

“Is he asleep?” Buck whispered.

She looked. “I would say so.”

“Then I’ll put him down now.” He shifted the boy and carried him to the bed, covered him carefully, smoothed his hair from his forehead … all ordinary things, yet watching him made her heart ache.

He stepped back, watched his son a moment, then tiptoed from the room and pulled the door part way shut. “I didn’t want to put him down until he fell asleep. Seems like the least I can give him is lots of assurance of safety.” He returned to the chair he occupied previously and rubbed his hand across his face. “I fear I am an inadequate parent, but I’m all the poor little guy has.”

Such hope and desperation filled his voice, she couldn’t bear it. “From what I’ve seen, you are an excellent father. The way he adores you is proof enough.”

Brown eyes met hers, brimming with hunger and longing. “Do you think so?”

He loved the boy deeply and wasn’t afraid to show it. The knowledge of such love—human love—gave her the feeling she missed something vital in her life. She feared it would show in her eyes but lacked the strength to tear her gaze away. “I know so.”