Terri Roxton tapped her fingernail against the face of her watch but the second hand failed to start ticking again. “That’s weird,” she murmured.
“What, Mommy?” Hannah asked, twisting in her folding chair to look up at Terri, a red ribbon trailing from her hand.
“My new watch just stopped,” Terri answered, surprised her daughter heard her over the chatter and giggling of the eleven other first-grade-girls in the school cafeteria. Hannah’s Girl Scout Brownie troop had gathered there for their meeting. Three months ago, when Hannah started school and signed up to be a Brownie, Terri volunteered to assist with several of the after-school get-togethers. Today, with Thanksgiving behind them and the Christmas holidays fast approaching, the girls dressed and decorated stuffed bears to donate to an organization that would send them overseas to sick and orphaned children. Hannah’s troop leader, Jana Adams, had set up the Christmas project and Terri was thrilled to be helping out, though she was feeling especially pressed for time right now.
Terri shook her wrist and glanced at the watch again. Still no luck. She turned to look at the clock mounted on the wall at the large room’s far end. Five-fifteen p.m. The meeting was running long. Her mother-in-law Marilyn was coming for dinner tonight. It was Marilyn’s birthday, and Terri needed to pick up a few things at the store she had forgotten– namely a cake and candles.
“Maybe Santa will bring you a new watch,” Hannah said as she struggled to tie the ribbon into a bow around the plush bear’s neck.
“I think I’ll see if this one can be fixed before I ask him for a new one. It’s extra special to me.”
“Because I gave it to you?”
“That’s right, ma’am.” Terri cupped a hand around her mouth, leaned closer to Hannah and whispered, “Don’t tell Daddy, but it was my favorite birthday present.”
Hannah giggled. “Daddy let me pick it out. He should’a let me pick out the present he bought for you, too.” Holding the bear up for Terri’s inspection, she asked, “Is this good?” The red bow was loosely looped, one side twice as big as the other.
“That’s close to perfect!” Terri exclaimed. “Let me tighten it just a little.”
After evening the sides and securing the knot, Terri sat the bear next to an identical one with a green bow that Hannah had tied earlier. Each girl in the troop had two bears to dress; one to donate and one to keep for herself–a link to the child across the ocean whose spirit they hoped to lighten with their gift.
“Now all you need to do is dress those two cuties and we’ll go home and fix Grandma’s birthday dinner,” Terri said, wanting to hurry her daughter along.
Hannah reached toward one of the grab bags at the center of the long table. The leader and several of the moms had sent assorted decorating materials and old doll clothes for the girls to use to adorn the bears. She dug through it and pulled out a white ruffled dress.
In the chair next to her, Hannah’s best friend McKenzie said, “Ooh…I like that one. It’s pretty.”
Hannah frowned. “But what if they give my bear to a boy? He wouldn’t want ruffles.”
“Good point,” Terri said. “I’m sure you can find something else in one of the bags. There’s plenty to choose from.”
Hannah pulled out a brown doll coat, a tiny denim jacket, a filmy striped blouse and pink elastic-waist pants. She laid them all out on the table in front of her, studied each outfit, chose the striped blouse, then debated with McKenzie and changed her mind.
“Hannah…” Terri started to say ‘hurry’, but then Hannah giggled over something McKenzie said and the sound of her laughter stopped Terri short. Outside, shadows crept into the neighborhood. Those shadows, though, couldn’t touch them inside the glowing cafeteria. The gathering dusk only made the room seem brighter, warmer, safe, set apart from the uncertain world beyond the long line of windows.
Terri sat back and watched the organized chaos around her, watched the twelve bright-eyed girls dressing and undressing their bears. They hummed and talked while they worked, squirmed and danced in front of their chairs. The innocent voices and laughter spread through her, warm and sweet as the hot chocolate they had sipped from paper cups at the start of the meeting. It seemed to Terri her watch wasn’t the only thing that had stopped; time had, too. Something told her that this was one of those moments her mother had mentioned when Terri became a mother herself, one of those simple, perfect moments she should not rush through, but savor. Her mother had said that, later, when Hannah was grown and off on her own, these were the memories Terri would cherish most.
“Oh, look!” Hannah pulled two more coats from a grab bag, one red and one green, identical in every way except for their color. Arching one brow in a perfect imitation of her father Kyle, she said, “Mah-ve-lous,” and managed to sound like Kyle, too. Though the coats were too small for the bears, Hannah tugged them onto the animals, zipped the zippers, then asked her mother’s opinion.
“I think I know a couple of bears who’ve been eating ice cream with their berries.” Terri poked a finger into one stuffed animal’s pudgy stomach.
“<>Mo-om.” Giggling, Hannah settled a fist on one hip and tilted her head to the side. “Bears don’t eat ice cream.”
“Oh, really? And how do you know this, Madame?”
Hannah gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “They don’t have bowls or spoons.”
“Which bear are you keeping?” Terri asked with a laugh.
“Hmmm.” Hannah looked from one animal to the other. “The red bear, I think. I’ll give this one away.” She picked up the bear in the green coat and hugged it. “Make some kid happy!” she told the stuffed animal.
Smiling and humming “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town,” Terri began to clean up their work area.
Ten minutes later in the school’s parking lot, she put the key into her car ignition and glanced into the rearview mirror. “You buckled up back there?”
In her car seat, Hannah grabbed for the seatbelt and pulled it across her lap. “Oops, I almost forgot.”
Terri started the engine and drove away from the school, waving to several other mothers she passed. Traffic was heavy with weary workers making their way home and shoppers eager for a head start on the holiday rush.
“Look, Hannah,” Terri said as they approached the red light at the last intersection before the grocery store. Fat, slushy drops fell onto the windshield. She switched on the wipers. “It’s starting to snow.”
“Does it snow in that place where they’re sending the bears?” Hannah asked.
“Rwanda,” Terri said, slowing for the stop light ahead. “I don’t think so. It’s tropical there…hot and rainy. They have mountains, though. Maybe they get a little snow up there.”
“I wouldn’t like not having much snow. Snow’s magical, isn’t it, Mom? Daddy told me that.”
“Daddy’s right. It is magical.” And cold, Terri thought with a shiver as she reached to turn up the heat. Though she’d lived in the Texas Panhandle all of her life, she still wasn’t used to the often bitter-cold winters. Truth be told, she wouldn’t mind if it never snowed again.
Before Terri reached the stop light, it changed to green and she pressed down the accelerator and continued on. Glancing into the rearview mirror again, she asked, “What kind of cake do you want for Grandma’s—”
The blare of a horn drowned out the rest of her sentence, and Terri’s heart lurched. In the time it took to blink, she turned and saw the truck.
The shadows found them, grabbed hold, then swallowed the car whole.
Like what you've read? ORDER IT!
From the book More than Words: Hannah's Hugs by Jennifer Archer
Harlequin Pub Date 4/08
ISBN 0-373-83622-8
Copyright 2008 By Jennifer Archer
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher
For more information surf to eHarlequin.com
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