The Secret Christmas Child. Lee McClain Tobin
Back Cover Text
Note to Readers
“I’m not working for Reese.” Gabby Hanks shook her head as she put the dinner tray she’d prepared beside her grandmother’s bed. “No. Uh-uh. No way.”
Nana shifted Gabby’s nine-month-old daughter, who’d started to fuss, in her arms and clucked her tongue, and little Izzy’s frown turned into a smile. One that matched Nana’s persuasive smile all too well, despite the seventy-five-year age gap between them. “I’m making you a good offer. A place to stay, free childcare and a job that’s right across the backyard. Which would be a real convenience, considering that heap of junk you’re driving.”
Despite her grandmother’s brusque tone, Gabby heard what Nana wasn’t saying: she herself needed help, even though she was too proud to ask for it. A bad case of the flu had left her weak and shaky. She shouldn’t be alone right now. “We can stay here for a few weeks, until Christmas,” Gabby said.
“And you can help Reese until Christmas, or at least interview for a position there,” Nana said. “I happen to know he needs seasonal help.”
“Nana. Why would an after-school program for at-risk kids need seasonal help?” Gabby pulled a second threadbare blanket over her grandmother’s legs and looked anxiously out the window at the low-hanging clouds. The northern-Ohio wind whistled through the old, poorly insulated house.
“Because those kids’ needs don’t just go away when school lets out for Christmas break,” Nana said. “Reese has an overload of boys whose parents work long hours and can’t supervise them, so the church board is sponsoring his Christmas Camp.” She picked up a piece of toast and bit off a tiny corner. “Thank you for fixing me dinner, honey. It’s real good.”
“You need to eat more.” Her grandmother was way skinnier than she should be, and Gabby’s heart constricted with guilt. Yes, she’d had to take a job on the other side of the state to pay her and Izzy’s bills, but she should have visited more often.
A moot point now. She’d lost the job because of missing too much work; a single mom didn’t have much choice when her baby was sick and she had no friends or relatives in town.
Nana’s casual revelation that she wasn’t feeling too well and “wouldn’t mind a visit” had come as a blessing. Now it looked like the blessing went both ways.
“Anyway,” Nana said, waving a hand toward the field that adjoined their edge-of-town house, “Reese’s main assistant had to leave for a family emergency. He’s in a spot.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of applicants.” Who wouldn’t want to work with the second-most-popular former football player in Bethlehem Springs?
First most popular, now.
“You forget what a small town Bethlehem Springs is,” Nana said.
Oh, no she didn’t. That was a good part of why she’d left.
Bethlehem Springs had been a wonderful place to grow up, and most people had been kind despite Gabby’s shaky family history and thrift-store clothes. She’d had a good life here with Nana. Firm friends, good grades, plenty of opportunities.
But that had all changed after the accident.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and held out her hands for Izzy. “Come on, let me hold you while Nana eats,” she said. Gabby repeated her mantra: Izzy’s what’s important.
I’ll take care of you. I’ll do right by you.
Izzy was her joy out of sorrow, and she gave Gabby’s life purpose and meaning. No, Gabby wouldn’t have the caring family she’d dreamed of growing up, or at least, she wouldn’t have a man to protect her; her dreams of a white knight had turned to dust. But she’d give Izzy a sense of security. That was paramount.
“It’s a real godsend, your being here.” Nana dutifully forked up a green bean. “I’ve been wanting to get to know my great-granddaughter.”
Gabby patted her grandmother’s thin arm. “I’m so glad we’ll get to spend Christmas together.”
And one of the first orders of business was to decorate. Normally, by December 1, Nana would have had the entire house decked out in red and green. The fact that there were no Christmas decorations out said it all about