The Greatest Gift Read Free

together, no matter what. We’ll manage. Hear me? We’ll manage. God won’t desert us, even if the whole world does.”
    He looked up at her with renewed determination. “Right.”
    “Yes, we’ll stick together,” Ann said. “I’m sorry I was selfish.” She looked around at the other occupants of the shelter. “Nobody else here is bawling, and a lot of them look worse off than us.”
    “I was thinking the same thing,” Mary confided, trying not to let them all see how frightened she really was.
    She left them near Bev, who promised to keep an eye on them while she went to make phone calls.
    Fourteen years ago, she’d had such wonderful visions of her future life. She wanted children so badly. She’d loved her husband dearly. And until he got mixed up with the crowddown at the local bar, he’d been a good man. But one of his new “friends” had introduced him first to hard liquor, and then to drugs. It was amazing how a kind, gentle man could become a raging wild animal who not only lashed out without mercy, but who didn’t even remember what he’d done the morning after he’d done it. Mary and the children all had scars, mental and physical, from their experiences.
    Bob understood it best. He had a friend at middle school who used drugs. The boy could be a fine student one day, and setting fire to the school the next. He’d been in and out of the juvenile justice system for two years. His parents were both alcoholics. Bob knew too much about the effects of drugs to ever use them, he told his mother sadly, both at home and school. She hoped her other children would have the same stiff common sense later down the road.
    First things first. She had a good job. She had clients who were good to her, often giving her bonuses and even clothing and other gifts for the children from their abundance. Now that they knew her situation, she knew this would increase. Nobody she worked for would let Mary and her children starve. The thought gave her hope and peace. A house was going to be impossible, because rents were high and she couldn’t afford them yet. But there were small, decent motels where she could get a good weekly rate. It would be crowded, but they could manage. She could borrow a car to take them to and from school from one of her employers, who had a garage full and had often done this for her when her own car at home was in the shop. Clothing she could get from the local Salvation Army, or from the thrift shops run by the women’s abuse shelter and the churches.
    Her predicament, so terrifying at first, became slowly less frightening. She had strength and will and purpose. Shelooked around the shelter at the little old lady who was in a wheelchair and thin as a rail. She was leaning down on her side, curled up like a dried-up child, with one thin hand clutching the wheel, as if she were afraid someone would steal it. Nearby, there was a black woman with many fresh cuts on her face and arms, with a baby clutched to her breast. Her clothes looked as if they’d been slept in many a night. Against the far wall, there was an elderly man with strips of cloth bound around his feet. She found that she had more than the average guest here. She closed her eyes and thanked God for her children and her fortitude.
    Her first phone calls were not productive. She’d forgotten in the terror of the moment that it was Sunday, and not one person she needed to speak to was at home or likely to be until the following day. She asked Bev if she and the children could have one more night at the shelter and was welcomed. Tomorrow, she promised herself, they would get everything together.
    The next morning she was up long before the children. The shelter offered breakfast, although it was mostly cereal, watered down coffee and milk.
    “The dairy lets us have their outdated milk,” the woman at the counter said, smiling. “It’s still good. We have a lot of trouble providing meals, though. People are good to help us with