A Family for Thanksgiving

A chill settled around Nicki’s heart. “I don’t know. I hope that I’ll rejoice because it means she’ll be reunited with her family.”

“But the truth is?” Clay prompted.

Nicki smiled sadly. “The truth is—it will break my heart into a million pieces.”

Glancing at Clay through suddenly tear-filled eyes, Nicki knew he’d heard the catch in her voice. She hoped he hadn’t seen her eyes mist over at the thought of losing Kasey.

He said softly, “You love her. You want what’s best for her—even if that isn’t a life with you.”

Meeting his gaze, Nicki realized the brash, reckless boy she’d known had changed in more ways than she’d given him credit for. He’d become an insightful man capable of understanding the feelings of others.

After the Storm:

A Kansas community unites to rebuild

Healing the Boss’s Heart—Valerie Hansen

July 2009

Marrying Minister Right—Annie Jones

August 2009

Rekindled Hearts—Brenda Minton

September 2009

The Matchmaking Pact—Carolyne Aarsen

October 2009

A Family for Thanksgiving—Patricia Davids

November 2009

Jingle Bell Babies—Kathryn Springer

December 2009

PATRICIA DAVIDS

Patricia Davids continues to work as a part-time nurse in the NICU while writing full-time. She enjoys researching new stories, traveling to new locations and meeting fans along the way. She and her husband of thirty-two years live in Wichita, Kansas, along with the newest addition to the household, a stray cat named Spooky. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can contact her by mail at P.O. Box 16714, Wichita, Kansas 67216, or visit her on the Web at www.patriciadavids.com.

A Family for Thanksgiving

Patricia Davids

MILLS & BOON

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Special thanks and acknowledgment to Patricia Davids for her contribution to the After the Storm miniseries.

Cast your cares on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall.

—Psalms 55:22

This book is dedicated with respect and deep

admiration to the people of Chapman, Kansas.

Go Irish!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Questions for Discussion

Prologue

July 10, 4:04 p.m.

“It’s only a thunderstorm. It’ll be over soon.”

Huddled in the basement of the High Plains Community Church with her preschool class and numerous townspeople, Nicki Appleton tried to maintain a brave front for her kids. The howling wind sounded as if it were trying to rip the building apart. The old wooden structure shuddered and groaned over their heads in protest.

The lights flickered. Some of the children around her whimpered with fear.

“Don’t be scared.” One of Nicki’s students, three-year-old Layla Logan, was patting the shoulder of a little girl sitting beside her.

Nicki couldn’t help but smile at the child’s motherly tone. Maya Logan would be proud of her brave little daughter.

Glancing at the small basement window near the top of the wall, all Nicki could see were the limbs of the nearby cedar trees thrashing wildly and the greenish-gray sky beyond. A flash followed by a deafening clap of thunder made her jump.

Suddenly, hail began pelting the roof and bouncing off the ground outside the window. In a matter of seconds, marble-size chunks of ice were filling the window well.

Even by Kansas standards, this was a wicked storm.

At least her car wasn’t getting hammered in the parking lot outside. Nicki breathed a quick prayer of thanks that she had chosen to walk to work leaving her car safely under the carport at her apartment.

Then abruptly, the wind and hail stopped. Nicki tensed. Something wasn’t right.

The thought had barely formed in her mind when a great roar began. Like a dozen jet engines bearing down on them, the sound filled the church basement, drowning out the frightened cries of the people sheltering there.

Tornado!

Nicki pulled the youngest children closer to her, sheltering them with her body. Her ears popped in the intense pressure change. Dust filled the air. The lights went out. People screamed.

The roar went on and on until Nicki thought she would scream, too. It seemed like forever but, in reality, it only lasted a few minutes. Finally, the noise died away, and the sounds of the children’s crying rose in volume.

“I’m scared.”

“Turn on the lights, Miss Appleton.”

“It’s okay.” Nicki used her calm teacher voice, although she felt anything but. Her heart was hammering hard enough to jump out of her body.

Close by in the darkness, Josie Cane added her reassurances to her daycare group. “It’s fine. Everyone sit quietly, please.”

Nicki fumbled, with shaking hands, for the flashlight in her emergency kit. Locating the plastic cylinder, she snapped it on.

The sudden bright circle of light showed her a dozen frightened, tear-streaked faces looking to her guidance. A sweep around the room revealed neighbors and friends taking stock of themselves and each other. Josie had her arms around her eight-year-old niece, Alyssa, planting a kiss on the girl’s cheek.

Everyone seemed okay.

Thank You, dear Lord.

Nicki forced herself to smile at her class. “Wow! That was scary, wasn’t it? Is everyone all right?”

Most of the children nodded. Layla, her brown eyes wide with fright, had her arms clasped around her crying friend. The Baker twins were still covering their ears with their hands. Together, they sobbed, “I want Mommy. I wanna go home.”

Josie’s flashlight snapped on next. She said, “We need to stay here a little longer.”

The two women exchanged knowing glances. They didn’t dare lead the children upstairs until they were sure it was safe. Nicki had no idea what awaited them.

The church’s minister, Michael Garrison, quickly assumed charge. “Everyone stay put until we check things out.”

He headed for the stairs followed by two other men. After several long, tense minutes, Michael returned and approached Nicki and Josie. His face registered such shock that Nicki bit her lower lip in trepidation. “How bad is it?”

“Really bad. The town took a direct hit, but at least the church and school building are intact.”

Nicki stood on trembling legs. “Do you think it’s safe to take the kids to their classroom? I think they’ll be more comfortable in familiar surroundings.”

“That’s a good idea. We’ll need this space to set up an emergency shelter.”

“Why not use the carriage house?” she asked, knowing the building behind the church had been converted into a family shelter for emergencies several years ago.

“It’s gone. Completely destroyed.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. “But it’s only a dozen yards from here.”

“We were spared by the grace of God. There’s no doubt about that.”

Pressing a hand to her forehead, she started to turn away, but he grasped her arm. “Nicki, I know you must be worried about your home and your mother, but I need you to stay with the children—I don’t know for how long.”

Understanding all that he didn’t say, she nodded. “My mother is out of town, thank Heaven. I’ll stay as long as any of the kids need me.”

Once upstairs, Nicki and Josie struggled to keep the scared children calm in the preschool room until their parents came for them. Nicki’s friend, Maya Logan, was among the first to arrive. She snatched up Layla and covered her face with kisses.

Although Nicki was happy to see Maya was safe, the damage she described made Nicki sick to her stomach. It seemed that much of the downtown was in ruins.

With each new arrival, Nicki learned more about the destruction. Nearly half of High Plains had sustained serious damage. Power lines were down, even the cell-phone towers were off-line. Many streets were blocked by debris, including the bridge over the river, the main highway into town. Rescue teams had to travel miles out of their way to reach the stricken area.

The one bright note she heard was that the area of town where she lived had been spared.

Nearly two hours after the tornado struck, Reverend Michael found time to check on Nicki and her charges. Noting his disheveled appearance as he entered the preschool room, she asked, “How’s it going?”

“Outside help is beginning to arrive. We’ve got a medical triage tent set up on the lawn. There are a lot of injuries.”

“Any fatalities?” she asked softly, not wanting the children to overhear.

“Not so far, but some of the town and outlying areas haven’t been searched. Apparently, there was more than one twister in this storm.”

“Have you seen Josie? Alyssa and her little friend, Lily Marstow, slipped away from us. Josie went to look for them.”

“I saw them all with Silas Marstow a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, good.” Nicki sagged with relief, happy to know her friend and the children were okay. Lily’s father, Silas, was the only parent that hadn’t been accounted for. She crossed his name off the list she’d made.

Michael looked at the half-dozen children playing around the room. “I see you still have a few kids left.”

“Some people opted to leave their little ones here knowing they’re in a safe place. They’ve gone out to help family and friends. I don’t mind watching the children. I’m happy to help any way I can.”

“What you’re doing is deeply appreciated.”

Nicki nodded toward four children playing with hand puppets in the corner. “The Jensen girls and the Baker twins don’t have homes left. Their parents are trying to make arrangements of some kind for tonight.”

“I’ll speak to them. We still have a few empty cots in the basement. Shall I send Avery in to give you a hand?”

Nicki shook her head, declining the help of his fourteen-year-old niece. “I’m fine, but thanks for the offer.”

“Okay, I’ll put her to work elsewhere. I’d better get back. There is so much to do….” His weary voice trailed away as he walked out.

It was another hour before the last of her students had been handed over to family members. When they were all gone, Nicki walked outside the church with trepidation.

She had been right to be scared. She barely recognized the town she’d lived in all her life. Shredded insulation hung like tattered pink flags from the remains of broken, leafless trees. Whole houses were simply missing. Unrecognizable twisted pieces of metal, broken lumber and fallen masonry blocked much of Main Street. People were wandering around in a state of shock.

A TV news crew from a nearby city had set up beside a mobile van and were interviewing survivors and filming the wreckage. Help in the form of firefighters, ambulances and heavy equipment had begun pouring in. The sounds of sirens filled the evening air.

Walking toward the park, Nicki saw that the Old Town Hall had been reduced to a pile of rubble. It broke her heart to see the historic site in ruins, but it wasn’t until she saw the leveled gazebo in the center of the park that tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

Her special place was gone.

An elderly woman, looking lost and confused, stopped beside Nicki. Grasping a broken umbrella in one hand and a battered fedora in the other, the woman said, “I can’t find my husband. Frank never goes out without his hat.”

Nicki put her own pain aside when she saw the woman was bleeding from a deep gash on her forearm. Ignoring the newsman that had run over to snap their picture, Nicki gently said, “I’ll help you find him, but let’s get you fixed up first.”

“I don’t know where he could have gone.”

Taking the woman’s elbow, Nicki led her back to the church grounds where the triage tent had been erected on the lawn. As Nicki turned her charge over to a paramedic at the scene, a tall gray-haired man with a bandage on his forehead rushed forward and engulfed the woman in a fierce hug.

Nicki swallowed around the lump in her throat.

Thank You, Lord, for this one happy ending. Please let there be many more.

Stepping out of the tent, Nicki saw a group of women manning tables of food and drinks for the rescue workers and residents. When one waved her over, Nicki gladly joined them. She simply couldn’t go home. Not when there was so much to be done.

Many long hours later, a bleary-eyed Reverend Garrison accepted a sandwich from her and said, “It’s after four o’clock in the morning, Nicki. You should go home. There’ll be plenty of work left to do tomorrow.”

Wearily, she nodded. “You’re right.”

“I’ll get one of the police to take you.”

“They have enough to do. It’s only a short walk.”

He started to argue, but someone called him away for yet another emergency.

Nicki left the churchyard and trudged toward her duplex with exhaustion pulling at every fiber in her body. She was only halfway home when her flashlight blinked out.

“Oh, not now!” She banged it against her palm, but it stubbornly remained dark. Like her town, or what was left of her town. She couldn’t remember ever seeing the city without a single light glowing anywhere.

When her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she realized the three-quarter moon in the sky offered just enough illumination to let her navigate. She started walking again, skirting the downed limbs and debris that littered the roadway.

The sounds of sirens and chain saws had finally begun to lessen. The prevailing odor of diesel fumes was beginning to dissipate, leaving only the smells of wet wood, churned dirt and mangled cedars to tint the muggy night air.

When she finally reached her apartment, she stopped and stared in disbelief. The tall maple tree in her front yard was lying uprooted as if pushed over by a giant hand. Its gnarled roots fanned into the air like a grotesque skirt. Part of its branches rested on her half of the duplex’s roof.

She glanced at her neighbor’s dark front window. She knew Lori Martin, a nurse at a hospital in nearby Manhattan, had gone to work the previous morning. Given the number of injuries that had been transported to the bigger medical center and the state of the roads, Nicki wondered if Lori had made it home.

Nicki decided against knocking to check. If her neighbor had gotten back into town, there was no sense waking her up at this hour to point out a fallen tree that Lori would have seen for herself.

Bracing herself to discover the worst inside her own place, Nicki walked around the gaping hole in the lawn and up her steps. Inside the house, it was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Was that a blessing?

After locating spare batteries in a drawer in the kitchen, she managed to replace the ones in her flashlight. Holding her breath, she clicked the button.

The burst of light showed a room that looked exactly as she’d left it the previous morning when she hurried out the door to her preschool class. The sight was so welcome that tears stung her eyes.

Making her way through her small apartment, she found the living room and bathroom were also intact. Opening the door to her bedroom, she discovered she hadn’t completely escaped the storm’s wrath. A tree limb jutted through her window.

The branch had knocked everything off the top of her dresser. Cherished mementos, photos and odds and ends were broken and scattered about. The carpet was wet from the rain that had blown in. Wearily she gathered up her smashed treasures and placed them on her bedside stand. Those that couldn’t be salvaged she threw into the trash can along with the broken shards of window glass.

Straightening, her flashlight caught the reflection of something bright behind the leaves on the dresser top. She stepped closer and saw it was a silver heart-shaped frame—the one photo she should have tossed out years ago.

Picking it up, she turned it over surprised to find the glass intact and the picture undamaged. It was her senior-prom photo. Nicki sat on her bed and stared at the couple in the snapshot. Had she really been that young, that carefree?

The strapless blue dress and upswept hairdo were meant to make a giggling teenager look mature. In retrospect she looked silly, but Clay Logan, Maya’s brother, in his cowboy hat and Western suit looked incredibly handsome. His deep blue eyes surveyed the world as if he owned it all, including her heart.

Before now, all that remained of that magical high school night was this photo and the old gazebo in the park—the place where they’d shared their first kiss and experienced the giddy rush of teenage hormones. Even though she was the one who’d called a halt to their passion before it went too far, she believed that Clay understood and respected her. She knew in her heart that their kiss was the beginning of something special between them.

Her girlish, romantic illusions came to an abrupt end the following day, when she learned Clay had left town without a word to her.

To say she had been crushed was an understatement. More than anything, she had considered Clay her friend.

“Friends don’t run out on friends without saying goodbye,” she muttered.

But he had gone. Now, the old gazebo was gone, too. Blown to bits by the vicious wind.

Snapping off the light, Nicki pressed the cold metal picture frame to her chest. She was too weary to face an old heartbreak.

Yet maybe this was the time to face it. To let go of the last bit of hope that wouldn’t die. She was a practical, twenty-five-year-old woman not a naive eighteen-year-old kid. Clay wasn’t coming back.

Turning the frame over again, she removed the backing. A postcard fell into her lap. She didn’t need the flashlight to read it, she knew it by heart. The postmark said Amarillo, there was only one line written in Clay’s bold hand: You’re better off without me.

He was so right. She was better off without a man who broke her heart to go wandering the country.

Nicki turned her flashlight back on and stared at the picture in her hand. Enough wallowing in the past. It was time to look to the future. There was a whole lot of rebuilding to be done.

Tossing the framed photo and postcard into the trash on top of the shattered window glass, Nicki lay down on her bed to grab a few hours of sleep.

She dreamed about the howling wind and Clay Logan’s bright blue eyes.

For the next two days, Nicki was simply too busy helping with the cleanup of her town to think about the photo she’d thrown away. Her few broken treasures seemed trivial compared to the losses she saw around her. Dozens of her neighbors had lost everything. Sadly, Maya Logan’s sister-in-law, Marie, had lost her life. Working side by side with volunteers who’d come from all over to help, Nicki gained a new appreciation for the kindness that strangers could bestow on those in need and for the resilient spirit of the people of High Plains.

The ring of her cell phone offered her a break from the hot, exhausting job of carrying tree limbs and broken boards to a waiting dump truck. Pulling off her gloves, she extracted the phone from her pocket. The phone company had gotten one of their towers back online the day after the storm, allowing for cellular service, but the city was still without land lines or electricity. She flipped open her cell and said, “Hello?”

“Nicki, I’m glad to hear your voice. Are you all right? This is just so terrible.” It was Emma Barnet, a social worker Nicki knew well and had worked with on several occasions.

“I’m fine. I had one broken window. How about you?”

“It missed our house by a mile. I’m happy you’re okay, because this is an official call. A toddler was brought into the hospital the night of the tornado. A little girl about fifteen months old. We haven’t been able to locate her parents or any family. No one knows who she is. She was found by the old cottages near the river.”

“No one has claimed a child? That’s unbelievable!”

“The authorities are working on identifying her, but it may take a while since she isn’t old enough to give us a name. I know this is an imposition at a time like this, but the hospital is over capacity. I’m swamped with people who need placement and every kind of help.”

“Tell me what I can do.”

Sighing, Emma said, “Bless you, Nicki. I don’t want to send this little girl out of the area if I don’t have to. Is there any way you can foster her until we find her family?”

Nicki didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Great. Since you’ve fostered babies before, the paperwork will be minimal. We’re calling her Kasey for now because she had the initials K.C. inside her shirt. She’s got a nasty bump on her head plus scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. We should be able to release her from the hospital in a day or two.”

“Then I should start coming by to visit so she can get used to me before I take her home. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“That sounds perfect. If anything changes, I’ll call.”

Snapping the phone shut, Nicki looked at the unbelievable devastation around her. Out of all this sorrow there had to come something good. Perhaps this unknown little girl would be it.

Chapter One

October 27

Clay Logan had barely stepped down from his horse before Mrs. Dewey threw her arms around him again.

“Thank you, Clay. Thank you so very, very much.”

His neck was going to have a permanent crick in it if she didn’t let up soon.

Her husband, standing beside the second trail horse, lifted his seven-year-old daughter, Karen, out of the saddle. Walking over, he grabbed Clay’s hand in a vicelike grip and began pumping it up and down. “We owe you a debt of gratitude that we’ll never be able to repay.”

Clay’s boss, Hollister Dodd, owner of the Canadian Wilderness Guide Service, had come out onto the wide porch of the lodge at the Chilihota Ranch. He watched the return of his clients from their packhorse excursion with a puzzled expression on his face.

“It was nothing, ma’am. Honest,” Clay managed to mutter past Mrs. Dewey’s stranglehold.

She took a step back. “I don’t know how you can say that. You saved our daughter’s life!”

“What’s this?” Hollister came forward to take the reins of Mrs. Dewey’s horse.

“Tanner pushed me in the lake.” Safe in her father’s arms, Karen, a blond-haired, blue-eyed pixie and the bane of Clay’s existence for the last two weeks, scowled at her older brother still sitting on his horse.

“It was an accident,” fourteen-year-old Tanner mumbled.

Something in his tone caught Clay’s attention and brought back memories of his own childhood. His brother, Jesse, used to sound just like that when he was explaining why Clay had landed in trouble while Jesse was supposed to be watching him.