The Christmas Joy Ride (8 page)

Joy frowned. “I don't have the slightest clue. What do you think?”

“Twenty dollars a person?”

“Goodness, that seems a bit stingy, Miranda. Surely we can do better than that. How about fifty?”

“Fifty per child?”

“Unless you see something really wonderful that costs more. And older kids' presents might be more expensive. Take that into consideration too. And be sure to get something for the parents too. We can say it's from the kids. And how about a couple bags of fun groceries? You know the fun kinds of things that families on a budget can't always afford? Food that feels like a party?”

“Uh-huh.” Miranda grabbed a pen. “Let me write this down. I don't want to miss something.”

“Just do your best, dear. I trust you implicitly.”

As Miranda hurried into the store, she wasn't so sure about this shopping mission. Buying gifts and food for eight people she'd never met—well, that could be a challenge at best. And she really wanted to get it right. As much for Joy's sake as for the Mahoneys.

B
efore long, Miranda was cruising the crowded aisles and pressing into “rolled-back prices” with the best of them. This was a whole new world to her, but she kind of liked it. With her list in front of her and canned Christmas music playing merrily in her ears, she quickly got her bearings and figured out the lay of the store.

“Put on your Santa,” she whispered to herself as she studied the list she'd compiled in the RV. She'd started with the youngest kids' names, leaving a space to fill in with whatever she selected for them—just to keep things on track. Her plan was to check the names off as she located just the right gifts. But the more she shopped and perused the store, the more she realized this wasn't as easy as she'd expected. It took some time and careful thinking. And even some heartfelt prayers for divine direction.
Would five-year-old Katie really want a tea set? Would eight-year-old Benjamin already have a soccer ball?

Ninety minutes and two overflowing carts later—and with the assistance of a tall and helpful employee named Tower—Miranda was loading her loot into the RV. With Joy watching in amusement, Miranda piled bag after bag on the floor by the door, then waded on through. “I can't believe your credit card didn't go up in smoke when they totaled the purchase.” She handed Joy her card as well as the receipt. “I hope I didn't spend too much.”

“Don't worry about it.” Joy tucked both into her purse without even looking. She picked up a stuffed tiger. “Now how are we going to wrap all these goodies?”

“I knew there wouldn't be much time to wrap everything,” Miranda explained. “So I splurged on a bunch of colorful gift bags and tissue paper.” She dug through the mound of bags until she found some of them. “See?”

“Perfect.” Joy shook out a big candy-striped bag and went to work.

The motor home soon resembled Santa's workshop as the two sorted and packed the assortment of presents into dozens of varying sized gift bags and Joy carefully wrote out each recipient's name on a gift tag. She also tied the bags securely with bright ribbons, making them look even more festive.

“Very pretty,” Miranda observed as Joy held a finished bag up.

“Tying them closed will discourage peeking,” Joy explained. “You know how curious children can be right before Christmas.”

Miranda took some photos of all the filled bags that were heaped along the sofa and floor, transforming the RV into a makeshift Santa sleigh. And then the two women dined on the packaged salads that Miranda had bought for them.

“It's kind of a skimpy lunch,” she admitted, “but it looked healthy.”

“It's just perfect. And we'll have an early dinner,” Joy promised. “I suspect it won't take too long to get the Mahoneys' house all decked out. Not with all those children around to help out—and Ellen assured me that they'll all be there.” As they ate, Joy described the decorations she'd packed for this visit. “They're all very child friendly,” she explained. “Lots of cartoon characters and silly things that my boys used to enjoy.”

“I'm surprised your boys didn't want some of your Christmas decorations for keepsakes.”

Joy waved her hand. “Trust me, they have more than enough. You know me when it comes to Christmas, Miranda. I always went overboard. The bins I packed for the Mahoneys are all very bright and colorful and fun. Nothing's easily breakable either. With a little supervision and direction, we ought to be able to just set the children loose with it. I can't wait to see how it turns out.”

“Sounds like it'll be fun for everyone.”

By three o'clock, they were in the Mahoneys' living room. It was a spacious area, but rather stark. A big tan sectional occupied one wall, a green recliner sat against another, and a fairly big TV was prominently displayed across from them. Miranda listened as Joy explained her plan to an overwhelmed but grateful Ellen Mahoney. “We won't worry too much about perfection here,” Joy told her, with Miranda and the six kids looking on. “This is as much about the process as the final product. I want the children to enjoy all of it.”

“Okay,” Ellen said with uncertainty. “If you're sure it won't turn into a big mess.”

Joy just laughed. “In that case, it'll be a fun mess.” She looked at the kids now. “I'm sure you'll all do your best, won't you?”

They eagerly agreed, so Miranda and several of the children
began hauling boxes and bins into the Mahoneys' two-story house. “Hey,” Miranda called to a teenage boy loitering on the front porch, taking a moment to introduce herself.

“I'm Sean,” he told her. Then he pointed to a boy who looked to be about ten. “That's Phillip, my little brother.”

“How about if you get the ladder that's strapped to the back of the RV, Sean? You can be in charge of putting lights on the outside of the house.”

“We get to have lights on the house too?” Phillip asked.

“You bet.” Miranda nodded. “We're doing this up big-time. Why don't you help Sean with the exterior lights?”

As Miranda worked with the boys to hang up lights around the windows and along the eaves, she managed to extract pieces of the Mahoneys' story. Apparently this family of eight was relatively new.

“The two youngest girls, Katie and Kelsay, have a mom named Kara,” Sean quietly explained while Phillip returned to the RV to get a box of light-hanging hooks. “She's our foster mom's niece, but Kara, uh, she got arrested for drugs last year. She's doing time.” He reached up to loop a hook onto the gutter's edge, then laced the lights' wire through it. “The rest of us are siblings. Our parents split up a long time ago. Our mom had custody.” He sighed. “But our mom's kinda like Kara . . . I mean as far as her problems go.”

“Prison too?” Miranda asked with sympathy.

He nodded. “She got sentenced last February. That's when we came here.”

“Well, the Mahoneys seem like wonderful people,” she said. “I think God has blessed all of you by bringing this new family together.”

He brightened. “Yeah . . . I guess so.”

“Still, I'm sure it's hard for you.” She handed him another
strand of lights. “And I'll bet your siblings really look up to you—since you're the oldest. You could really make a difference in their lives.”

He nodded slowly, as if considering this. “Yeah, I hope so.”

“And remember,” she said quickly since Phillip was on his way back, “you are not your parents, Sean.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“You have the chance to make something really good out of your life.” As she continued, she wondered why she was giving him this little pep talk—what made her any sort of expert? Except that it just felt right to encourage this young man. “You get to write your own ticket, Sean, and nothing your parents have done or have not done should stop you. Be your own man,
man
.”

Sean smiled shyly. “Thanks.”

She reached out to shake his hand. “I expect great things from you.”

He grasped her hand with an embarrassed expression.

Phillip rejoined them, and after about fifteen more minutes of work they finished up. “You ready to power it up?” Miranda asked the boys. “To make sure it works?”

Sean went over to plug it in and—voila—they had light in a rainbow of colors.

“It looks like the gingerbread house,” Phillip said as they all stood back to admire their work and Miranda snapped some photos.

Back inside the house things seemed a bit chaotic but were going fairly well. Joy had put Christmas music on and Ellen was trying to direct two of the children in setting up a nativity scene. Meanwhile, Katie and Kelsay had just started decorating the tree. Before long, all the kids were helping with that. Joy's creative, kid-friendly selections meant it was more fun to play
with the ornaments than to hang them, but they eventually got them all up.

As Miranda surveyed the finished product, she had to chuckle. The results were not quite up to Joy's usual standard of perfection. Several of the garlands were taped to the walls at child height. And many of the decorations looked slightly cockeyed and haphazard. But the children seemed quite happy and proud of their work, and Miranda doubted that anyone would really notice or care about the slight imperfections. The place was colorful and festive and fun. A great improvement to the functional but otherwise drab home.

“I don't know how to thank you,” Ellen told Joy as the grown-ups stowed the gift bags for the children in her bedroom closet. Later Ellen and her husband, Tom, would place them under the tree. “I can't even imagine what Christmas would've been like without your generosity.”

Joy reached out and clasped Ellen's hands. “You have thanked me already—by opening your heart and your home to these dear children. God bless you for
your
generosity!”

“We wish you all a very merry Christmas,” Miranda called out to everyone. “And we hate to rush off, but we need to make an early night of it. We have a lot of miles to cover tomorrow.” She almost added “to avoid the storm,” but didn't want to worry anyone. Besides, she hadn't had a chance to substantiate the weather rumors yet.

“Where are you going next?” Ellen asked as she walked them to the door.

“Albuquerque,” Joy told her.

Ellen looked slightly shocked. “That's a long ways away.”

“Yes,” Miranda told her. “It will take us a lot of hours driving to reach it, so we want to get an early start in the morning.”

“Hopefully you won't run into that storm the weatherman has been talking about,” Ellen said with concern.

“Storm?” Joy's brows arched.

“We'll keep an eye on the Weather Channel,” Miranda assured them both. “I have an app on my phone. And if it looks bad, we might just have to stay put a day or two.”

“Oh, dear,” Joy exclaimed, “we can't do that. We've got two more visits to make before Christmas!”

Miranda patted her back. “I'm sure we'll be fine.”

“God bless you as you travel,” Ellen called out. “We'll be praying for God to watch over you and keep you safe!”

As Miranda and Joy climbed back into the motor home, everyone was calling out “goodbye” and “thanks” and “Merry Christmas!”

“Wow,” Miranda said as she started the engine. “I don't know how Ellen does it day in and day out. All those kids. All that noise. I think I would go stark raving mad after a couple of days.”

“Thank the good Lord that everyone has different gifts.”

“That's for sure.” Before backing out, Miranda waved to little Katie and Kelsay, who were still hanging onto the railing on the front porch. “Thank the good Lord that Ellen has a boatload of patience.”

As Miranda drove out of the subdivision, she remembered how she'd felt slightly envious while shopping for the Mahoneys' gifts at Walmart. As silly as it seemed, for a brief moment, she had secretly imagined she was shopping for her own family's Christmas. But after spending a couple of hours at that noisy, chaotic house, she was grateful for the peace and quiet of her life. And she was glad to be back on the road. Oh, sure, she still had a slight longing for family . . . and perhaps something more . . . someday. But at the same time she felt strangely content too. And the idea of driving all the way to Albuquerque—more than five hundred miles—didn't feel the least bit intimidating to her. Just as long as the weather didn't turn on them.

A
fter an uneventful night in a fairly vacant RV park located in what felt like “the Middle of Nowhere,” Texas, they got an early start for Albuquerque. According to the Weather Channel app on Miranda's phone, the weather system wasn't expected to move in until tomorrow, but there had been frost on the windshield early this morning.

“Cold out there,” Joy said as Miranda drove down the nearly deserted highway.

“Uh-huh.” After Joy's reaction to the weather forecast yesterday, Miranda didn't want to tell Joy about the route of the predicted storm just yet. Maybe it was better just to keep moving and hope for the best.

“Do you really think there'll be snow?”

“I'm not sure. I mean, I don't think of New Mexico as snow country. In fact, it all looks more like desert country to me.”

“Yes, but it's a high desert,” Joy explained. “The elevation makes it colder and it does get snow . . . sometimes.” Joy's usual cheerful tone was tinged with concern. “I'm not sure about driving the motor home on snow and ice. I remember George being quite worried about that before.”

“Oh?” Miranda peered out at the skyline. “Well, it's a pretty clear day today. Doesn't look like any chance of snow.”

“You're right.” Joy brightened. “It's a perfectly lovely day.”

“So who are we visiting in Albuquerque?” Miranda asked in the hopes of distracting them from weather worries.

“A place called Angel of Mercy.”

“Angel of Mercy . . . that sounds nice. What is it?”

“A nonprofit rehabilitation center for addiction.”

“Oh?”

“A sweet girl named Abigail wrote to me about the place. Abigail is only thirteen and her seventeen-year-old brother, Dallas, is in treatment there. She wrote a pretty long email and it was obvious that she loves Dallas very much. She was extremely worried that this is his first Christmas away from home. Afraid he'll get depressed. And she described the rehab center as bleak and boring.”

“Not after we're done with it.”

“When do you think we'll get there?” Joy asked.

“Even if we stop for an early lunch, we should be there by one.”

“Perfect.” Joy clapped her hands. “It should only take a couple of hours to decorate. And a couple more hours will get us to tonight's RV park before dark.”

“Yes. We're right on schedule to arrive in Flagstaff by tomorrow afternoon. And after we're done there, we'll have no problem making it to Phoenix in time for Christmas.”

“To think we've traveled all these miles together,” Joy said happily. “I never could've done this trip without you, dear. You're a marvelous driver. Just marvelous.”

Miranda felt a small rush of pride. “Well, we're not done yet.”

“No, but it feels like the end is in sight.”

Miranda nodded. Of course, she knew the weather could still play havoc with their schedule. But at least they should make it to Albuquerque with enough time to get some lunch and fill the RV with gas. Hopefully they'd get the rehab center decorated quickly and still reach the RV park before dark. In all likelihood they would make it to Flagstaff long before the snow actually flew. And, if they worked fast, they could get out of there and down to lower elevations and be out of harm's way before it got bad.

To Miranda's dismay, the rehab center was in a busy area of town. Maneuvering the large RV through traffic and stoplights was a bit of a challenge, but eventually—thanks to Miss Moore—they were parked in front of a stucco building with the right address. As they walked up to the door, they noticed a small sign declaring that it was indeed the Angel of Mercy.

The lobby reminded Miranda of the nursing home they'd visited a few days ago. Bleak and boring. Besides a bulletin board and a few mental health posters, the place was a colorless sea of beige and tan. Uninviting. And not a single shred of Christmas cheer.

They approached the reception desk and Joy quickly explained who they were and why they had come, but the young receptionist seemed unimpressed. “I can't let you in,” she said in a flat tone. “Against the rules.”

“But your manager authorized this,” Joy insisted. “We exchanged emails and he said we could—”

“No one told
me
about it.”

“Perhaps I should talk to the manager then,” Joy persisted.

“Yeah, you
should
.” The young woman paused to answer the phone, turning her back to them.

“I have his name in here,” Joy whispered to Miranda as she reached into her bag, and pulled out her red and green notebook. “I believe it's Norman . . . something or other.”

“Norm Cross.” The receptionist hung up the phone and reached for a magazine, flipping it open. “He's the manager.”

“Right.” Joy nodded eagerly. “I'm happy to talk to him again. I'm sure he can straighten this all out for us.”

“Norm's gone for the day.”

“Gone?” Joy dropped her notebook back in her bag and exchanged a troubled glance with Miranda. “Oh, dear.”

“Who's in charge when Norm's gone?” Miranda demanded, suppressing the urge to give the rude receptionist a firm shake.

“Nina Olson. But she's in a meeting.”

“So when will Nina be done?” Joy asked patiently. “When may we speak to her?”

“The meeting will finish around two thirty. Unless they run longer. They sometimes run until three or later.”

“Okay . . .” Joy slowly zipped her bag closed, then turned to Miranda. “Perhaps we should wait in the RV . . . until two thirty.”

Miranda studied Joy. She was clearly frustrated. Plus she had dark circles beneath her eyes and looked exhausted. “Why don't you go on out there now? Just put your feet up for a bit,” Miranda suggested quietly. “Meanwhile, I'll see what I can accomplish here. Okay?”

“All right.” Joy nodded with an uncertain expression.

After Joy left, Miranda turned her attention back to the surly receptionist. As much as she wanted to yell at this rude young woman and tell her how unprofessional she was, Miranda was determined to handle this right. For Joy's sake.

“I know we introduced ourselves to you,” Miranda said a bit stiffly, “but I didn't catch your name.”

“Roxy,” the woman said with a slightly suspicious look.

“Well, Roxy, my friend Joy didn't get a chance to fully explain why we're here.” And now Miranda launched into a quick but detailed explanation of the website, the contest, and their mission here. “And the problem is that we're in a bit of a race against the weather,” she said finally. “There's a snowstorm predicted, and we're driving a large RV that apparently doesn't do too well on snow. We'd really like to wrap up our visit here as quickly as possible.” Actually, Miranda wanted to wrap it up right now.

“Well, that's not really my problem,” Roxy said in a flippant way. “You'll have to wait for Nina to help you.” She chuckled like she was enjoying a private joke. “But that would be a first.”

“A first?” Miranda glared at Roxy. “A first what?”

“A first time for Nina to agree to anything regarding Christmas.” Roxy laughed.

“And why is that?”

Roxy's eyes narrowed slightly. “Nina is very anti-Christmas. Antireligion too.”

“And this place is called
Angel of Mercy
?”

Roxy snickered. “Yeah, well, some people call it by other names too. I won't repeat them here though.”

Miranda didn't know what to say. Perhaps they were on a fool's mission with this place. Maybe the wise thing would be to just call it a wash, continue on their way, and make it to Flagstaff before dark—and before the weather changed. It was tempting.

But then she remembered the story about Abigail and her brother, Dallas. It was so sweet how the teenage sister cared so deeply for her brother. Joy would not want to give up this
easily. For that matter, neither did Miranda. Not without one last good try.

Miranda studied Roxy closely. The young woman was absently perusing a gossip magazine, probably hoping that Miranda had gone away. Miranda loudly cleared her throat. “Is there a number where I can reach the manager? Norm Cross?”

“Huh?” Roxy looked up.

“I'd like to
speak
to Mr. Cross,” Miranda said firmly. “Because if we can't do this right now—as planned—we might have to skip it altogether. It would be a shame for your rehab center to miss out on this prize, especially considering that your manager has already authorized for us to be here. I'm sure the patients in treatment here would be disappointed to discover they had been robbed of this opportunity.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “And who knows, Roxy, you might even be accused of being the Grinch who stole Christmas from the Angel of Mercy. Do you really want that on your head?”

Roxy's thin eyebrows arched. “Well . . . no . . . but I—”

“Then I suggest you give me Norm Cross's number right now. But if you'd rather not, I'm sure I can find it in our records. And when I speak to him I'll be sure to mention just how very
helpful
you've been.” Miranda leaned over the counter, locking eyes with her. “I'm sure he'll be interested.”

“Fine.” Roxy grabbed a Post-it pad, scribbling down a number before ripping it off and thrusting it toward Miranda.

Miranda took the paper outside, and with slightly shaky fingers—probably the result of her suppressed anger—dialed the number, waiting until a man's voice answered. “This is Norm.”

Miranda quickly identified herself, apologizing for interrupting his time off and then explaining their dilemma using as few words as necessary. “If you'd prefer to decline your My Route 66 prize, we can just continue on our way and—”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “I already told some of our patients that Christmas Joy was coming, and they've been looking forward to it. I just got too busy and totally forgot that it was supposed to happen today. I'm really, really sorry.”

“So will we be allowed to decorate and leave the things for the party as planned?”

“Yes, of course. I'll let my staff know immediately. And I'll pick up a tree to bring by. Joy Jorgenson sent me the check to do that. I'm near a tree lot right now.”

Miranda thanked him, and he apologized again for the inconvenience. She had to bite her tongue to keep from complaining about his unhelpful receptionist. But feeling somewhat victorious, she dashed over to the motor home to tell Joy the good news. Finding Joy snoozing on the sofa, Miranda decided to let her rest. She left a little note, saying that they'd gotten the green light from Norm, but that she could handle the decorating on her own if needed. At least she hoped she could. And hopefully it wouldn't take too long.

By the time Miranda carried the first bin up to the building, Roxy was out of her chair and opening the door for her. “Norm just called,” she said as she held the door. “Sorry, I didn't understand. I apologize.”

Miranda blinked at her change of attitude. “Well, no offense, Roxy, but you were a bit rude about it.”

Roxy frowned. “Well, I'm supposed to be tough at the reception desk. I'm like the gatekeeper, you know? People pull all kinds of stunts to get junk past me.”

“You thought Joy and I were trying to smuggle in some drugs?”

Roxy's mouth twisted to one side. “Well, not really. The truth is I was just being a lazy brat. Sorry 'bout that.”

Miranda chuckled as she set the bin down on a chair in the
waiting area. “Okay then . . . no hard feelings. Want to help me carry in some stuff?”

Roxy explained she wasn't allowed to leave the reception area, but she called on a maintenance guy named Cory to lend a hand. Before long everything was inside and Miranda went to work. Even with the delay of getting started, Miranda was making good time. And with the help of Cory, she got the “family room” area nicely decorated even before Norm arrived with a tall noble fir. Norm went to find some patients to help trim the tree, and after less than two hours, it was all done and Miranda was taking photos.

“This looks really good,” Cory said as he folded the six-foot stepladder closed. “Want me to take this back out to your RV?”

“Thanks.” Miranda placed one of the cookie plates on the coffee table for the ones who'd helped to decorate. The other two cookie plates would go with the box of other party things that she planned to leave with Roxy. Fortunately, Roxy had really gotten on board with everything and had even promised to get the rest of the stuff set up in time for the party on Christmas Eve.

“The place looks fabulous,” Roxy told Miranda. “Nina will be seriously ticked when she comes out of that meeting.”

Miranda made a half smile. “Sorry to miss that.”

“I'm not going to miss it,” Roxy assured her. “And I like watching Nina get mad. Mostly because she's always preaching to others about not letting stuff get to you. But when she's ticked, her face gets all red and puffy and it looks like she could blow steam out of her ears. Doesn't really seem healthy to me.”