Page 22 of Miss Humbug
Last night had been a great moment. When the lights blinked awake on the massive tree in the town square, the crowd gasped and cheered. Beside me, Marlowe fell quiet. A colorful glow illuminated her face, revealing an expression I hadn’t seen on her in years: awe.
Shelikedthat big lit-up tree. I freaking knew it down to my green and red plaid socks.
But I had to play a light hand. After hearing she’d been lonely and struggling, I had a side quest for our mission together.
I wanted Marlowe to love Christmas again.
She had a legitimate reason not to like the holidays after losing her parents a few days before Christmas. Living in a town that obsessed over winter holidays carved a deep groove for her hurt to live in. I wished I’d noticed back then. No, I’d noticed. I wished I’d had the maturity to talk to her about it. I was young and didn’t understand how to talk about stuff.
I barely did now.
We headed to the next town over to the county social services building. I turned into the parking lot. Your standard boring administration building.
I parked and we crossed the lot to the entrance. “How is your grandmother planning to score volunteering for the contest?”
“We have to do a report out,” Marlowe answered.
I stopped walking. “A what?”
“A report out. Like a presentation.” She pursed her lips and made a funny face. “I guess the book club will grade our reports or something. I don’t know. I’ll probably throw together a digital slide show.”
Families, man. My folks were happy if I showed up on time wearing a clean shirt. Bonus if I took out the trash.
A small group waited in the front lobby. After a few minutes, a woman with a lanyard and ID badge introduced herself. We’d had to sign waivers and review a set of rules before registering. She went over all that again, followed by a building tour.
Marlowe fidgeted, looking every direction with wide eyes. She hung back as the group entered the main activities room.
“You okay?” I asked her quietly.
“I’ve been here before.” She swallowed. “I’m almost positive this is where I saw a children’s counselor. You know. After.”
Oh. Ohwhoa. Marlowe had been a toddler when her parents died in the car accident. What kind of counseling did they do with toddlers? And how would she even remember?
“Do you want to leave?” I placed my hand at her back without thinking.
She startled at first, then relaxed into my touch. She looked up at me. “No. It’s weird recognizing this place. The last time I would have been here I was eight or nine. I remember this hall and this room. Group activities with other kids. Sometimes it was only me with the counselor. Other times, with my brothers or my grandparents and the counselor.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’m fine. Let’s catch up with the group.”
I could hardly focus. I hadn’t thought about Marlowe’s tragedy in so long. It wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when I thought of her or the Holly family. Maybe because I’d made so many other memories with them.
“The concept of this center,” the staff guide continued, “is to give parents a break while we provide structured, appropriate activities for the children’s needs and age ranges. As you can see, space is tight since most of the building is office space. Our other branch had to close due to budget cuts. We make it work.”
Several volunteers asked questions. Marlowe hung onto every word.
After questions were answered, the guide gave us a rundown of the day. “We don’t have any kids here this weekend since it’s a holiday, so today you all will be helping with projects. We have a smaller therapy room we need painted. Donations to sort through, cleaning, boxes to break down.”
I immediately volunteered for painting. I could paint a wall in my sleep. I even did ceilings. Shoot. I should have asked Marlowe what she wanted. This couple thing was new to me.
“Go on,” she said, before I could ask. “I’ll go through donations.”
We divided into smaller groups to tackle projects, meaning Marlowe and I spent most of the afternoon apart. A woman and her teen son were my painting partners, making quick work of the task.
As the afternoon closed out, I hauled out trash (another specialty) and cleaned up after the work we’d done. I finished before Marlowe, who told me she’d be out in a few.
I hung out in the parking lot and checked for texts. None waited for me. Rob must have had things under control at the tree lot, or at least so he assumed. Rob didn’t always ask for help when he needed it.
Marlowe walked out with one of the administrators. They hugged, said goodbye, and Marlowe returned to my truck.
She held a folder and some papers. She beamed with a smile that hit me full in the chest. “I’m signing up as a regular volunteer. So long as I pass the background check. After all, I’m going to need to fill my free time until Christmas.”
