by Bree Cariad
“Everyone, I’ve got to ask. Who here has not had chickenpox?” No doubt that was all in Thomas’s records, but Jonathon wanted to know who to send to Thomas when he got there.
Three hands went up. “Three? Okay. I’m pretty sure Aiden has it.” Several of them groaned. He had no idea how the kid picked it up. He’d been at the shelter for a couple weeks and the only people he ever interacted with were them. When delivery men came, the kids usually went out back.
“We have a small room in the back we’ve set up as an infirmary for times like this. I’m going to bring Aiden down there and if any of you show symptoms, you’ll get to stay there as well. And just so you know, it’s a nice room. And it will be quiet which is what an ill person needs.”
Peril spoke up. “Do you need any help, Reverend Jonathon?”
“Finish your breakfast,” Jonathon said with a smile. “And then if you can help Rolf get the pumpkins out and ready for this morning’s carving, that would be great.”
Peril nodded and from the way he quickly began to eat, he would be able to help very soon.
Rolf was back in the kitchen cleaning when he walked back in. There was a hot Belgian waffle waiting for him. “Eat up. Thomas is on his way and Aiden was asleep when I went up to check.”
Jonathon devoured the waffle, not really tasting it, before he strode back to the infirmary. Once upon a time it had been Paul’s play room when he was a boy. The walls had drawings of forest scenes and fantasy creatures. It always made him smile when he walked inside and he hoped it helped his kids. Unlike upstairs, there were no bunk beds. Instead, six twin beds lined one wall with enough space between them to get around. He grabbed a set of clean sheets from the cupboard and made up a bed. Then he added one of a bevy of colorful quilts he purchased a few years ago. After adding a pillow, he went back upstairs.
Aiden groaned when he picked him up, but didn’t say anything. Rolf walked in as he turned toward the door. “I’ll get his bedding in the wash.”
“Thanks, Rolf.”
His pajamas were soaked with sweat so Jonathon peeled them off and his sports bra and put on a new pair of pajamas and tucked him into the infirmary bed. Now that he had a good look at him, he was positive it was chickenpox. It covered his chest and sides as well as the left side of his neck.
Even though it seemed to be some crazy rite of passage every child had, Jonathon wished he could do something to help. He had only vague memories of how it had felt when he got them at age seven, but he remembered hating it.
“I hear we’ve got a case of chickenpox,” Thomas said in a kind voice as he walked in, a small bag on his shoulder. “Hey, Aiden,” he said as he took a stool that was by the door and pulled it over to sit next to Aiden’s bed.
“The rash is all down his body,” Jonathon said. “I just changed him into new PJs because his were sweat soaked.”
“Might be best to remove them all together,” Thomas suggested. “Have you given him anything for the fever?”
“Not yet. We’ve got aspirin and acetaminophen.”
“Don’t use aspirin. Acetaminophen is your best bet with chickenpox. He’s fourteen and healthy, so I see no need for any other medications.” As Thomas spoke, he peeled back the bed sheet. Jonathon stepped forward to help him as Aiden seemed too weak to help. They removed his pajamas and Thomas looked at the rash. “Yep. Looks like chickenpox. I’ll clip them now, but you’ll want to keep his fingernails short. Once he starts to feel better and the itching takes over, it’s going to be difficult for him not to scratch. Also,” he added as he pulled a little packet from his bag, “do you have a bathtub by any chance?”
“Yes. From the original house. It’s in the bathroom attached to this room.”
Thomas looked up and smiled. “Good thinking. A warm, not hot, bath once he starts to itch will help. Add about a half cup of baking soda to the water and let him soak for thirty minutes. This will take about two weeks to work its way through.”
“And we’ve got three others who have never had it before.”
Thomas winced. “If they got it from the same source, their rash could start to appear any day. If they got it from him, then it could take up to twenty-one days to show.”
“Three weeks?” Well that would explain how he got it. Aiden must have been around someone who was infected right before Brecker found him.
“Yep. Before I go, I want to give those three an exam.”
Jonathon nodded. “Aiden’s only been here for two weeks, so most likely he got it from an external source.”
“Which means in two to three weeks you’ll have three very sick youth,” Thomas said in a commiserating tone. “No worries. Keep acetaminophen on hand. And clip their nails short. Wrap their hands in socks or mittens if needed to keep them from scratching.” Thomas sent him a smile. “At least everyone will have gone through it by Thanksgiving.”
That was a plus.
As he watched Thomas take Aiden’s temperature and check his rash, Rolf peeked his head around the doorway. “Brecker’s here,’ he said in a quiet voice.
Jonathon closed his eyes. Of all days for Brecker to come it would be today. Of course, he had invited him. “Tell him I’ll be out in a minute,” he said.
“How’s he doing?” Rolf asked.
“Hot and achy,” Thomas said. “And will be for several days.”
“Brecker?” Aiden croaked, his eyelids coming up for the first time since Thomas arrived.
“Yes. He came to watch the pumpkin carving. I’m sure he’ll want to come in and say hello.” That got him as much of a smile as Aiden could probably attempt in that moment. “In fact, while Thomas is with you, I’ll go see how he’s doing. Need anything? Juice? Water?”
“Get him some of each,” Thomas said. “Water will help to take the pills and to keep him hydrated. Juice is always soothing.”
“I’ll get it,” Rolf said and walked away.
Jonathon placed a hand on top of Aiden’s head and left the room.
From the laughter coming from the back of the house, Jonathon knew where everyone was. As Brecker wasn’t in sight, he figured he was out there as well. When he stepped onto the back porch, he grinned at the grossed-out sounds coming from his kids as they pulled the innards from the pumpkins and put them in a bucket for Rolf.
Brecker was leaning against the house and watching, an amused expression on his face. He turned when Jonathon stepped out. “Hey. How’s Aiden? Rolf said he was sick.”
“Chickenpox. First day.” Brecker grimaced and he nodded. “Yeah. He feels horrible right now, but he’d love to see you before you left.”
Once the pumpkin guts were gone, the act of carving was underway. Some of the kids were going the old fashioned route of triangular eyes and nose while others drew more intricate designs and cut them out.
Brecker pointed to a pile of whole pumpkins. “What do you say? I’ll carve one you can give to Aiden. That way he’ll have one.”
For a moment, Jonathon found it hard to speak as he was overcome with an intense feeling he wasn’t even sure of. It was close to gratitude but was so much more. “Thanks. I think that’s a great idea.”
They cut into two pumpkins small enough to be able to sit on a small table in the infirmary. While Jonathon did the triangular eyes and nose and the squared off teeth in his, and liked the result, he was startled when he spotted Brecker’s pumpkin. It was an art piece. He’d drawn on it with a pen and carved. When he was done, it looked like a large tree with falling leaves.
“How did you do that?” Jonathon asked in awe.
Brecker turned slightly pink and shrugged. “When I was a kid, I loved this time of year. I would carve all sorts of things on gourds. My father didn’t believe in art, thought it was ‘mamby-pamby girly’ stuff and when he caught me at it, would tan my hide. But he allowed me to carve pumpkins.”
That was a shame. Brecker had real talent. If he’d been encouraged, he could have become an artist. “Well, whenever you feel the need t
o carve a gourd, come on out,” Jonathon said.
Brecker chuckled. “I’ll do that.”
They cleaned up and Jonathon took him back to the infirmary. After checking to be sure Aiden was covered, Jonathon walked up to the bed. Thomas was filling out a chart and looked up as they entered. He took in Brecker and his lips quirked a little. “Thomas, this is Brecker.”
“Ah, the infamous Brecker,” Thomas said in a teasing tone, holding out his hand. “Your name is mentioned quite reverently around here.”
Brecker fidgeted a little but he shook Thomas’s hand. “Don’t believe everything you hear. I’m quite human.”
Thomas chuckled and Aiden blinked his bleary eyes open. For a moment he looked at them and then a little smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “Brecker,” he whispered.
“Hey, kiddo,” Brecker said in a gentle voice and squatted down by his side. “Hear you got the wretched chickenpox. Well, Jonathon and I didn’t want you to miss out on all the pumpkin fun, so we carved you a couple. What do you think?” He held up his pumpkin so Aiden could see.
“Wow,” Aiden murmured. “You did that? You can do anything.”
With a chuckle, Brecker placed the pumpkin on a side table and ran his fingers through the top of Aiden’s hair. Exhausted and achy, it was obvious Aiden was fighting to stay awake. “Get some rest, Aiden. Best way to get well.” Aiden yawned and nodded, his eyelids closed quickly, and within moments he was asleep.
Brecker stood up and Thomas put his things away. The three of them walked out of the infirmary before he spoke. “The fever can last for up to five days. So keep him on the acetaminophen. As long as it goes up and down and stays below 102 degrees during that time, I wouldn’t worry. However, if it goes beyond five days or goes above 102, call me.” Thomas shrugged his shoulders as though trying to release stress. “I’ll be back next Thursday like I always am. For now, I want to see the other three.”
While Thomas moved toward the office they used for medical, Jonathon turned to Brecker. “Sorry today was such a mess.”
Brecker looked surprised and then smiled. “No problem. I had a good time. I do wish Aiden wasn’t sick, but we’ve all been through that malady. Do you have a few minutes? I want you to be aware of something I’m working on that will affect you.”
From anyone else that would be menacing, but Jonathon couldn’t believe Brecker would ever do anything to harm the shelter. “Sure. Why don’t you wait in my office while I go round up the kids Thomas needs to see?”
Maurie, Nathan, and Kevin came willingly enough. Except for the needles, which nobody liked, all of their charges liked Thomas and weren’t afraid to see him. Once he had them set up on chairs outside the door, Jonathon sent the first one inside and then went into his office.
Brecker sat and gazed at a large photo Jonathon kept on his desk. It was the last one taken before Paul’s father took him away. “That’s Paul?” Brecker asked once Jonathon closed the door behind him.
“Yes. Both of us were intent on studying to become youth pastors. He always loved to hog the camera.” Jonathon smiled at the picture. Paul had his hand over Jonathon’s face and was pushing him back so the camera focused on him. His big cheesy grin made him chuckle. Taking his mind off the photo, he sat down and faced Brecker. “So… what will affect us?”
A slow smile crossed Brecker’s lips and he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, locking his fingers together. “I have my assistant researching ways to bring your shelter more money and items on a continual basis so that you aren’t always worried about where the next dollar or food or piece of clothing will come from.”
Startled, Jonathon didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent. He always underestimated the guy.
“She’s found several recurring grants we can apply for and a friend of mine is really good at filling out grant apps, so I have him attacking their rules now. He’ll call you next week to set up a meeting so he can get all the pertinent info. So when a Scott Fennel calls, that’s him. But the grants are long term—I don’t think the first payout is until next spring—so Siobhan and I pitched ideas off one another and there are two that seem likely to bring in a large amount of money.
“First, we get you known, not only through our city, but throughout the major LGBT organizations in cities like Seattle and Spokane. There are wealthy LGBT rights activists who are looking for places to invest their dollars for both the help it will give and the tax write-offs it will attain.”
“I hate hearing that my kids are a tax write off,” Jonathon said wryly. “Even if I know they are.”
Brecker shrugged. “People donate for one of two reasons. One, it gives them a tax write off. Two, it fills their need to give. This could fulfill both of those to the right donors.”
Knowing he was right, Jonathon nodded. “That makes sense. What’s the second idea?”
“This one has more of a possibility of bringing in big dollars quickly, but only if done right.” Brecker sat up and looked him in the eye. “Bring in a band or a well-known public speaker, someone people will pay up the wazoo to listen to, and who would want to donate their time and money to be a part of it, and have a dinner or something similar. People pay upwards of $1500 a plate to be there. If we do it right everything, including the venue, would be donated so every penny goes into the shelter. You get a venue that can take a thousand people and you’ve got $1.5 million from that one event.”
Jonathon’s mouth dropped open. All of his donation attempts had been small. Brecker’s additions had brought in far more than he had ever been able to. “Do you think that’s feasible?” he asked, feeling stupid.
A huge grin spread across Brecker’s face. “Oh yeah. And I’ve got tons of contacts. Siobhan is chomping at the bit to do this and believe me, what she sets her mind to, she gets. She’s already sent out feelers for possible headliners.”
“Who is Siobhan?” Jonathon asked, while his brain tried to catch up with this amazing idea. Would it work?
“My personal assistant and secretary. The woman’s a miracle worker. But she won’t move on it until we get your okay.” Brecker paused and winced. “This will bring in money but it’s also going to bring in media attention, both good and bad. Once the plans go into motion, you might want to start locking the gate more often to keep the leeches at bay.”
Jonathon leaned back against the seat and didn’t know what to say at first. He sent a quick prayer up to the heavens and could swear he heard a chuckle in return. Then he said, “Brecker, you’re one amazing miracle, you know that?”
Pink flooded Brecker’s cheeks and he shrugged. “I like what you’re doing here, Jonathon. I have a lot of business knowledge you don’t. If I can help, I want to.”
Jonathon grinned at him. “Help away, Brecker. Help away. I’m still coming to terms with $1.5 million.”
With a chuckle, Brecker nodded. “It would get you solvent until the grants start coming in and give you a buffer. The grants are renewable yearly. It’s one of those ‘as long as you’ve spent the money, they’ll send you the same amount’ things.”
“My kids wouldn’t have to be out there, would they?” Jonathon asked, knowing that would be a deal breaker. There would be no way he would subject them to that.
“Not at all. You’ll have to show and hobnob a bit. But the kids? No.”
Letting out a long, slow breath, Jonathon turned his gaze on Paul’s photo. He could swear he was grinning even wider. “Do it,” he said and looked back at Brecker. “Let me know what you need from me. But do it.” He shook his head and laughed softly. “You truly are our fairy godfather, you know that?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Brecker said with a grimace. “But I’m glad to help.”
Chapter Seven
Over the next few weeks, Brecker was run off his feet with getting new clients and starting the projects they involved. Thankfully, he had garnered such a good team that once he’d done that, he could be somewhat hands off. His project man
agers were top notch and not once had they dropped the ball.
He didn’t have time to drop by and see how things were going at the shelter, but he made time to call weekly and check in with Jonathon. Since it was usually he who made the calls, he was somewhat surprised when his cell phone lit up with Jonathon’s caller ID mid-November.
“Hi, Jonathon,” he said as he answered the call.
“You were so right,” Jonathon said and Brecker could tell he was smiling. “Siobhan is a treasure. If I could, I’d snatch her out from under you. Of course, since she’s getting the job done while working for you, I guess that’s inconsequential.”
“She’s worth her weight in gold,” Brecker agreed. “Did she get the venue?”
“Did she,” Jonathon said in excitement. “We have three of the largest ballrooms, which will seat over a thousand people. And I’m sure she already told you, but she got three speakers. Three!”
He had to chuckle. Jonathon sounded like a little boy whose Christmas came early. “Actually she kept that little tidbit from me. That’s fantastic, Jonathon. So what’s the date?”
“December fifth. She and your marketing team have been meeting, I guess, to work up the marketing plan. I hope she’s not taking them away from their regular work.” A brief moment of doubt came into Jonathon’s voice.
Brecker didn’t want that. “Don’t worry about it. This time of year, we focus on exactly what I told you—tax breaks and giving. I always have them doing something for a non-profit. This one just happens to be something we’re more closely involved with. Speaking of which,” he added before he forgot. “How’s the house set for Thanksgiving Dinner?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Jonathon asked dryly. “Rolf complained because we didn’t have enough freezer space for all the turkeys we received. Then a new freezer arrived and we had to move things around to make it fit.” He laughed. “We’ve been informed to expect fifty pounds of potatoes in the next week as well as enough ingredients to keep the kids in pies until Christmas. Oh,” he added, “and I know you’re probably busy, but we’d love to have you come over for Thanksgiving Dinner. The kids are all making place settings and the excitement around the shelter is dynamic. Or maybe that’s the fact it’s been so cold they’ve spent too much time inside.”