My Kind of Christmas

accident, her struggle to recover, the issues with her family and her efforts to make her own way in the world. To pay back or pay forward. And he wished there was someone he could tell that his life had never felt this kind of peace, not even before his losses. But he said, “It’s easy to admire her efforts. I would have seen that little girl’s scar and just felt bad about it. Not Angie. She saw it and said, ‘What can we do?’ and got after it. She’s trying to get financing for corrective surgery. I found out that rather than going back to medical school right away, she’s going to give a couple of years to the peace corps.”
    “Do you think she’ll get the funding?” Marie asked.
    “She’s making the rounds right now, going from business to business, from organization to club. She even put up a Facebook page that gives instructions for donating. Her aunt helped her set up an account for donations at a local bank. And what people don’t realize about her is that it’s actually pretty hard for her to put herself out there like that. She’s studious, an introvert.”
    “What’s the Facebook page called?”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t even looked. I think it’s probably Megan’s Reconstructive Surgery or something. Now tell me what you’re doing, besides sitting in your car outside day care?”
    “People try to keep me busy,” she said. “It verges on annoying, to tell the truth. From family and extended family to old friends from high school, I get invitations and visits and offers of things to do. I still need some time alone, though. I need time to grieve. According to my grief group, there’s no bypassing it by staying active, even though some activity helps.”
    “You did go back to grief group,” he said. “Did you confess about the Christmas presents for Jake?”
    She gave a little laugh. “You’ll never believe it—I confessed and three people in my group had done the same thing. Some people admit that years after losing a loved one like a sister or parent they still reach for the phone to call them, to tell them something, before they’re reminded that, oh, yeah, they’re gone. Right now I’m the baby, the newbie, but they talk about being changed and seeing their growth when someone with fresh pain comes to the group. There’s only one thing wrong with this—I desperately want to graduate.”
    “I can imagine,” he said. “And you will. We both will. There’s a new, hopeful life out there for both of us.”

Eleven
    T he rest of Angie’s week verged on idyllic. After making sure her aunt Mel didn’t need her help in the clinic, she drove into the coastal towns every morning. She went from business to business, large and small, showing a couple of pictures, explaining about Megan’s situation. She was in restaurants, print shops and even tattoo parlors. Sometimes she collected cash—a few dollars here and there. Sometimes she gave account deposit information for Farmers Trust Bank. She found special support at the fire department—they offered to continue to collect for her. Then she went on to the police and sheriff’s departments in Fortuna and Eureka.
    The one thing she wouldn’t do was post Megan’s picture in a business window or on a bulletin board. Merchants could verify the legitimacy of the cause through the bank and Brie Valenzuela, attorney.
    At the end of each day she went to the bank to make a deposit and get a balance. The first couple of days it was modest—a couple hundred here, couple hundred there. And the end of the day before meeting up with Paddy, she drove to the Thicksons’ house to update them on her progress. Then on the fourth day, Friday, there was a huge surge in donations. Up to this point Angie had collected six hundred and change, when someone suddenly made a thousand-dollar deposit. It was an anonymous donation.
    “How does something like this happen?” she asked the teller.
    “Word of mouth, I’m sure,” she said.
    “Maybe firefighters or police—they said they’d continue collecting. But I’d planned to go back next week and see what kind of results they had.”
    “No matter who’s responsible, the result is very nice,” the teller said with a smile.
    “I wasn’t complaining,” Angie said. “I’m stunned.”
    Angie was excited to tell Megan and her parents about the fund—which was nearing two thousand dollars—but she was even more eager to tell Patrick. They were spending the evening at his place