with church emergency-relief funds,” Reverend Boggs was saying when Dylan tuned back in to the conversation.
“But they’re going to need more than temporary help. We’ve offered on behalf of the church to adopt this family through the holidays, so I’ll be seeking support from church members like yourselves…” He let his words trail away as he waited for someone to step up to the challenge.
“Of course, we’ll help,” Dylan’s mother answered. “We’ve been looking for a Christian service project, so we’ll make a donation.”
“That’s a great idea,” Logan said, and the others chimed in their agreement.
“I knew I could count on the Warrens and, of course, the Scotts.” The minister smiled. “I’m sure this young family will appreciate whatever you can give.”
Neither the accolades nor his mom’s best chocolate walnut torte sat well with Dylan tonight. He felt as if they were all taking the easy way out—himself included. What they were willing to offer just didn’t feel like enough.
Reverend Boggs glanced at the wall clock. “Some Indianapolis news vans were at the scene of the fire, so the story should make the ten-o’clock news.”
“Hey, somebody turn it on,” Logan called out.
Dylan stretched toward the sofa table and retrieved the remote, flicking on the flat-screen television in the corner.
“The holidays will be a little less bright for a young Markston family who narrowly escaped tragedy today when a blaze broke out in their northside rental home,” said a reporter whose bright red coat appeared too festive for the somber news.
As the reporter continued her story, the camera panned first to the smoldering structure and then to the couple and their sons, huddled together in the chilly rain with blankets draped over their shoulders.
No longer hungry, Dylan set his plate aside. The story had been stirring enough, but to put faces to the tragedy brought the sad situation right into the family room. He’d pictured those children in his mind, but on the screen they appeared smaller than he’d imagined. Defenseless. Their bright eyes peeked out from beneath their parents’ arms as they watched the firefighters wage a losing battle with the blaze.
Stark reality was clear on Brad and Kelly Denton’s faces. Dylan remembered that his mother wore an expression like that during the early days after his father left. Matthew had looked that same way after his first wife had deserted him and Lizzie. The Dentons might have escaped with their lives, but the young couple, like his mother and his brother, had been unable to protect their children from life’s unfortunate truths.
In the next shot the reporter was standing with the family, all of them under the shelter of two large umbrellas. Brad Denton squeezed the boy next to him and said, “We feel blessed that we all got out safely. As long as we’re together, we’ll figure out the rest.”
Dylan could only stare at the screen. He’d been feeling sorry for himself all night when people like the Dentons, who had real problems and every right to their own pity party, were counting their blessings. He’d forgotten to count his.
Around him the room had fallen silent as the news broadcast moved to commercial break.
“It’s a sad story,” Reverend Boggs began again as Dylan shut off the television. “Still, I feel God has a blessing planned here. I’m sorry to run, but I need to call some of the other church members.”
“It won’t be necessary to make any more calls, Reverend.” Dylan waited as the others turned their surprised expressions his way. He couldn’t blame them—he wasn’t usually the idea man in this crowd, but he had to be this time. No one else was stepping forward, and he couldn’t turn his back on those little boys.
“Look at all of us.” He held his hands wide to indicate the size of the group. “Sure, we can write a check, but I think we can do a lot more.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan could see Jenna watching him, a strange expression on her face. He pressed on. “Between our two families, we should volunteer to adopt the Dentons ourselves.”
Everyone spoke up at once—that is, everyone except Jenna. She was too busy staring at Dylan, who didn’t sound at all like the Dylan she’d once called her best friend. Who was this take-charge guy? Her Dylan would have been more than happy to let other people make plans and then join in for the ride.
That he’d spoken aloud the exact idea she’d been bouncing around in her head surprised her even more. How could they not do more for that poor family? Her worries about reconnecting with Dylan seemed small when compared to those of these young parents who had no place to live and no way to feed and clothe their children. It wasn’t right for her to warm herself by the fire while this family had been huddled under blankets, trying to shield their children from the cold.
“He’s right,” Matthew said, his voice rising above the rest. “We have so much. We don’t need anything for Christmas. The Dentons will need everything.”
“That’s a great idea,” Haley chimed in.
“We have to help them,” Jenna told them. Her throat clogged with emotion as she tried to put herself in the shoes of those young parents. She could only imagine the hopelessness they felt.
Mrs. Warren stood up, shaking her head. “I don’t know. That’s a big project you’re taking on, Dylan. We can help, but it might be better if we spread the load among various church members.” She frowned as if realizing more pitfalls. “And we would have to cancel some of our holiday plans—”
“Not cancel, Mom,” Dylan said, standing beside her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Just tweak. Remember, you wanted us to spend quality time with the Scotts during the holidays, and what could be better than spending that time helping others?”
“We wanted to share our Christmas traditions, too.” Mrs. Warren’s face fell in disappointment.
“And we will,” Dylan assured her. “Some of them.”
“We already have,” Logan said. “We found the tree.”
Mrs. Warren shrugged as she sat on the hearth. “If you’re sure we can handle that much work…”
“Of course we can.” Dylan nodded as if to emphasize his words. His mother’s reticence appeared to surprise him. Jenna, too, found the woman’s reaction strange. Mrs. Warren was one of the most kind-hearted people she knew, so Jenna assumed something else was bothering her.
“What did you have in mind?” Matthew asked after a long pause.
“We could put some of the money and effort we would have used for Mom’s great list of activities toward making Christmas bright for someone else.”
Although Dylan glanced his mother’s way, the first response came from someone smaller.
“Do we have to give away our Christmas tree?” Lizzie asked, her eyes sad.
“Of course not, silly.” Dylan crossed the room and scooped up his niece. “But don’t you think that other family should have a nice Christmas, too?”
When she nodded, he tugged on one of her braids and lowered her to the floor. Jenna couldn’t help smiling at the
