| |
I would be lying if I said a little part of me wasn’t excited just to go shopping with Lawson in the little shops on Main Street.
Being out and about with him, in the craze of last-minute Christmas shoppers, walking through the winter wonderland that was Snowflake Hollow, was like a dream. We parked on one of the side streets and got out to walk along the shops, knowing we could always bring stuff back to the car and stuff it in if it was too much to carry around.
I didn’t much care where we started. I wasn’t shopping for me, so my mission was a little different than perhaps I would have wanted it to be. But it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. This trip was about finding the things on the letters for these kids, ranging from as young as three to as old as fifteen, both boys and girls. It was going to be a challenge, some of them, but it was going to be worth it when they opened their gifts and saw the thing their letter had asked for.
Most of them anyway.
Our first stop was an obvious one. Myrna’s World Of Play was one of the more unique places in the whole state. A huge store with two floors, Myrna’s was absolutely chock-full of toys of every type. There were traditional toys like Barbies and action figures of the latest blockbuster movies alongside weird niche toys that you couldn’t find anywhere else.
It was a delightful place to visit, even for adults, and the second we walked in I felt like a kid again. The store was rather packed with customers, the vast majority of them grown-ups. People came from several counties over to Myrna’s, and framed articles along the wall near the entrance showed how famous the place had gotten across the state.
Thankfully we found a number of the toys we were looking for rather easily, and Lawson was predictably adorable in the store. He kept picking things up and playing with them, seeing how they worked and then that booming, gut laughter would fill the store. I looked forward to every time he laughed like that. It was so genuine, so real. So cheerful.
After purchasing what we found and bringing it all back to the car, we headed to the bakery across the street from Myrna’s. Lawson guided me inside by the hand and I sighed when the smell of the fresh baked bread hit my nose. Suddenly I realized just how hungry I was, and remembered the dough in the refrigerator.
“You know, we should use that dough I have in the fridge to make something for the kids,” I said.
“That would be awesome,” Lawson said, getting in line. “But we don’t have the time to go back and make something. I have an idea, though. What if we made an order here for delivery and we saved your dough for Christmas morning?”
“Would they take an order this close to the holiday?” I asked. “Everyone seems so busy.”
“We can try. Maybe if we explain the situation to them,” he said. “Hang on.”
Lawson stepped out of line and I stayed in it, ordering both of us a sandwich and bringing it to the only empty table in the place. The bakery was unique in that it served all manner of food, including cakes and pies as well as deli sandwiches. There were two kitchens, a remnant of when it had been two restaurants side by side. One day, after years of being side by side, the children of the owners of both places ended up together and got married. They took over both places and combined them. It was a cute story, and I read the little biography on the back of the menus on the table while I waited for Lawson to return.
When he did, he was bringing an older gentleman with him, probably in his late fifties, wearing an apron covered in flour.
“Holly, meet Giuseppe Harris. Giuseppe, this is Holly.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Is this your place?”
He nodded. “My wife’s and mine,” he said. “She runs the business. I just make bread and pie shells.” He laughed, and the sound came out easy and musical. I got the impression by the laugh lines on his face and his kind eyes that he laughed a lot.
“Giuseppe offered to help us out tonight,” Lawson said, beaming. “I told him what was going on and he said he can donate and help us out.”
“What? That’s amazing,” I replied.
Giuseppe smiled warmly.
“I heard what Lawson said about the little children. I am closing the shop at five today, but I will stay and make some pastries and treats for the babies. Don’t you worry.”
We spent a few hours running around downtown, gathering other gifts and supplies. A trip into the candy shop ended up with a basket of goodies being donated by them, too. A few other businesses offered to pitch in, and even though it was extremely short notice it was like the town was coming together just for this.
I couldn’t believe it. Everyone had been so generous, and had been so in the last second. Everyone wanted to spend time with their own families and provide for them over the holiday, yet we had several business owners offer their time in lieu of not having anything they could give us. The hospital was going to have an entire team showing up to help them finish decorating and run the event, as well as various places bringing things over.
We piled into the car, the backseat and trunk stuffed so much that Lawson couldn’t see out the back window. We drove to the house and unloaded quickly, bringing everything into my room and spreading it out on the floor and the bed as we took inventory of what we had. The letters were on one side of the bed and I started placing each one in its own space in the room and gathering gifts that matched it on top of each one.
Lawson went downstairs and grabbed some coffee and cocoa and brought it up as we separated things out and then started building treat baskets, wrapping gifts, and bundling things together for each kid.
“Don’t forget, we have to stop by four of the stores to pick stuff up before we head down there,” Lawson said. “I think it might work out if we took both cars. Just so we have enough room for everything.”
“Good idea,” I said. “It will give me a few extra minutes to get ready before we head down.”
“Perfect,” he said. “Hey, this wrestling figure... was it Sam’s or Ryder’s?”
I looked at the figure and remembered the name of the wrestler being on Ryder’s list. It was a rather eclectic list. While most kids seemed to have a theme for their gifts, Ryder was all over the place. Books, building toys, action figures, a basketball—his list included a whole host of items. We couldn’t get them all, but we were able to find a bunch of them.
It was tricky because some of the kids didn’t really give us a lot to go on. Their letters were basic and only had one or two items on it, while others had a list that unfurled like a CVS receipt. We had to make sure to disperse the gifts as evenly as we could, but it was going to be difficult since some of them asked for things that were easy to find and others asked for more difficult items.
The last stop had been to the comic book store, and I glanced over at the box of comics Lawson had grabbed. Quite a lot of them were the Iron Man comics he had gone in for, but the rest were just tossed in by the store owner when he heard what was happening. They ranged from newer issues of popular titles to some of the doubles of older issues he had in stock.
On a whim, I pulled them out and separated out all the ones Jerome would probably want and then dispersed the rest among all the other letters. Lawson watched me curiously, and when I put the last one down he cocked an eyebrow. I smiled.
“I thought that if we gave everybody a comic or two, they could get together and discuss them. It might help him make friends if everyone shares in his thing. Is that stupid?”
“Not at all,” Lawson said. “That’s really sweet, actually. And a great idea. I know when I was a kid, we often got together to brag about our hauls. If everyone got a comic book, it should help them all connect over it. Good call.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling and looking around the room. “How much extra did we get?”
“We got a fair bit,” he said. “I wanted to make sure we could put together some stuff for the parents and the siblings, too. I get the feeling that everyone could use a little Christmas cheer tonight. I also got a couple things for Rachael and the staff, too.”
The children’s hospital was one of the bigger buildings in the city in terms of square footage, but it was rivaled by the housing building next door. That unit had been a hotel once upon a time, but the city had claimed it when it went defunct years before. According to Rachael it was given to the Children’s Hospital, and they spent a ton of time and money refurbishing it so they could allow the families to stay there while their children were getting treatment.
It was a nice place, but the biggest concern was always that the siblings of the kids who were there would get bored easily and feel left out. All the attention would be on their sick siblings, and they could feel invisible. There was always a concerted effort on the staff’s part to make sure they were included in as many things as they could.
“Perfect,” she said. “I was thinking we could put together a gift basket for them. Some fancy coffee or something?”
“Like the stuff you have downstairs that you refuse to touch, because it smells like donuts and you’re afraid you’ll subliminally want them and eat a dozen in a single sitting?” he teased.
“Yes,” I said. “And now I regret telling you that.”
“We can get some more at the coffee shop by Myrna’s. I have to stop by there anyway.”
“Good,” I said. “I have one other idea.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“My crocheting,” I said. “I have stacks of hats and scarves that I have been making for a few months, with every intention on donating them at some point. But with everything that’s happened with this place, I haven’t gotten around to donating them anywhere. Do you think the families would enjoy them?”
“I absolutely think they would,” he said, stepping close to me and wrapping me in a hug. “That would be wonderful. They would love that.”
“I just thought it would be nice because I could donate them, and I would actually get the joy of seeing them get them directly. Usually when I donate things, it’s anonymous. And it going to families and their children just makes it that much better. I always worry it will end up with some adult who thinks it’s ugly and sticks it in a drawer somewhere where it will never get touched.”
“They will love them,” Lawson said. “Go get them and dole them out. We need to pack up and get ready if we’re going to make it to the businesses that can’t attend tonight and get what they’re donating.”
“Is Myrna coming?”
“She said she couldn’t,” Lawson smiled. “But I have my doubts.”
“Me, too,” I grinned.
