Page 37 of Tacos & Toboggans
“Fancy,” she said, a smile lifting her lips for the first time all day. “I was dreading the cast and wondering how I was going to do anything at work or home with it.”
“We still use them for a lot of breaks, but in your case, it would be overkill. The only difference is, you’ll wear it longer than someone who would go from a cast to the brace.”
“Either way, I’d have to wear something, so I’m happy to wear the one that’s more convenient for longer. I feel better now, thanks for telling me that.”
I smiled but held up my hand. “Just remember, I’m not your doctor, so you’ll have to roll with his decisions.”
“You could put in a good word for me? Tell him I’m a model patient and will follow all his orders about wearing it and not wearing it, as well as attend all physical therapy appointments.”
“You play hardball,” I said, laughter leaving my lips at her smile. “I will discuss it with Dr. Russel since I did the fixation. He’ll ask me my opinion anyway, and I’ll be happy to give it.” The first group of kids was headed our way, and I smiled at the secret I held. “Here comes some littles.”
That smile I loved to see found its way to her lips, and she grasped the basket in her right hand, ready to let them pick out their favorite. Until she saw who it was. Then she dropped the basket on the porch and nearly pitched out of the chair. I grasped her by the shoulders and held her in place.
“Let them come to you,” I whispered.
“Auntie Jae-Jae!” Joy called from her wheelchair, which had been turned into a police car. “I’m a detective!”
“I see that, baby,” Jaelyn called as Heather pulled her out of the chair and carried her up the stairs.
“She’s been very worried about you,” Heather explained, holding Joy up so Jaelyn could kiss her cheek.
“I’m okay, Joy-Joy,” she assured the darling little girl. “Thank you for coming to see me. That was so nice of you. Would you like a treat?”
Joy clapped her chubby hands, and Jaelyn held out the basket that was filled with treats galore. I may have bought way too much candy, but I had no idea how many kids came through since this was my first year here. I would donate any extra to the hospital, but as I glanced down at the block, something told me there wouldn’t be much.
“Jaelyn!” A short Strawberry Shortcake was running toward the house with a little Bluey by her side. “Oh, Jaelyn!”
Heather stepped aside as Strawberry Shortcake came barreling up the steps. I was ready to grab her, but she stopped just short of the patient and set her plastic pumpkin down.
“Hi, Lucy Lou,” Jaelyn said, leaning down for a hug from the girl who was, thankfully, extremely gentle. “Or should I say Strawberry Shortcake?”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Lucy said, her gaze taking Jaelyn in as though she were a trained physician. “I’ve been so worried since Mom said you got hurt.”
“I’ll be okay,” Jaelyn promised the little girl, as she accepted a hug from the boy dressed as Bluey. “Hi, big boy Bryce,” she said, and I deduced that was Lucy’s brother. “I’m so happy you came to see me.”
“There was no stopping them,” Ivy said as she walked up the pathway to join the group. “I mentioned that we might stop over, and these two demanded to come here first.”
“I’m so glad you did, thank you,” she said with a smile. “I was sad to think I’d miss all the kids in their costumes this year.”
“Major had your back,” Ivy said.
Then more of the girl gang arrived until my front lawn was overflowing with kids dancing around the grass, waving at their friends, and singing silly Halloween songs. The joyful sound of the children's laughter was a stark contrast to the solitude that usually filled my evenings. Jaelyn had only been here for a few hours, and she was already brightening my world.
As she hugged the kids, handed out candy, and complimented costumes, I realized that she was teaching me how to live again. The last few years, I’d done nothing but exist, going from the hospital to home to the hospital. Friends were nonexistent. At least the kind of friends I could count on the way Jaelyn counted on the girl gang. It was only as I watched them laugh and tease and care for each other that I realized how isolated I’d made myself since leaving the army. I’d picked places to work where I could blend in and never be required to put myself out there as part of the community. Then this position became available in a little sleeper town. For some reason, I couldn’t stop myself from applying. Was I unhappy in Denver? No, not at all, at least not in my work. But when this job came across my desk, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Watching this community rally around one of their own made me wonder if the universe knew how much healing I had left to do, and Jaelyn was how it planned to help me do it.
“What a night,” Jaelyn said several hours later as the lights over the front doors blinked off, but we continued to sit on the deck, her eyes heavy but her expression happy. “Tonight was just what I needed. Thank you, Major. For everything.”
As we sat together, I understood that Bells Pass was more than just a place. It was a home. It was a way of life. A place where people took pride in what they did and in caring for one another. The woman beside me was part of that, and she had given me hope. A reason to look forward to each new day rather than dread them. For that, I’d forever be grateful.
Chapter Thirteen
“Now what?” Major asked, and I motioned at the hazelnut spread. “Now, squirt some of the spread on the tortilla.”
He lifted the piping bag and made a splurt on the turkey cutout. “Do I need to spread it out?”
“Nope, grab another one and lay it over the spread, then push down gently. The heat from the oven will melt it and do the job for you. Make sure to brush them with butter so the cinnamon and sugar will stick.”
He followed my directions to the letter while I cut out a few more pilgrim hats, then filled and topped mine on the pan. We’d been making Thanksgiving tortilla cookies for the last few hours, but these would be the final two pans, and then we could fill the case and head home. When I told him I was headed to the bakery to make cookies, he insisted on coming along, saying I couldn’t do it one-handed. He was wrong; I could have, but it was easier having him here. Especially since the pans were heavy to take in and out of the oven with one hand.
