Chapter 28----Thanksgiving

Indent}Tim sat at the kitchen table watching Trina. She deftly rolled a ball of dough into a thin white circle and then placed it in a pie plate. It was snowing outside and the kitchen was bright and warm as always.

         Tim’s throat was still a little sore. He had not been at school for a week since his tonsils had been removed. He had enjoyed this week. He had discovered it was nice being fussed over and he was taking to Trina’s mothering like a kitten to cream. He watched as she opened a jar and poured the contents into a bowl.

          “What’s that?”

         “Some of last summer saved up for a snowy day. Remember when we canned cherries?”

         Yes he remembered that. “I like to make a cherry pie for the first snow day. ”

         He watched as she covered the red cherries with the white piecrust and fluted the edges with expert fingers. Anything done with such skill is fascinating to watch. She set the finished pie in the oven and began clearing up the floury board and put the bowls and rolling pin in the sink. “There! I’m ready for a break. How about some cocoa?”

         Tim said, “Yes, please,” and watched her prepare it.

         Trina said, “Thanksgiving is coming.”

         He knew about Thanksgiving. That was one of the holidays when the missions served special food. He was pretty sure that Thanksgiving meant more than that here. “What do we do on Thanksgiving? I asked Joe but all he would talk about was food.”

         “Well we get together and spend the day with people we love, and we have a special feast that day.”

         “We have a special feast every day."

         “Thank you, Love, a cook likes to hear things like that." She gave him a hug. She set a cup of chocolate in front of him and poured one for herself. “After Thanksgiving comes Christmas. Have you thought about what you want for Christmas?”

         Tim honestly could not think of anything to want. “I have everything."

         She had to smile. Joey, the slightly spoiled child of plenty, had a list of wants already.

         Tim remembered Christmas. Colored lights were strung up on the streets of Lisbon and the stores were decorated. Salvation Army people and assorted Santas with their kettles and bells were everywhere. There was music playing on loudspeakers, people singing about a baby born who brought joy to the world! But there was a bitter wind that swayed the colored lights and chilled his bones through his thin coat and icy pavement under his worn shoe soles. A shiver went through him, as he thought about it. They had made him go among the merry shoppers and try to steal from them. To the old man it was a time to get money. It was only in the friendly warmth of the mission that Christmas had meant anything good.

         In the mission they set up a table and on it was a little house and images of people and animals and a baby doll lying on straw. Tim knew who the baby doll represented and why He came. It was confusing though, that His birth should be celebrated the way it was. He wondered what all this buying and selling had to do with the Child who came to save the world. But for that matter he wondered about Thanksgiving, too. He wondered what having a feast with family and friends had to do with thanking God. He asked, “What do we do here on Christmas?”

         “That’s one time when Jesse goes all out. The house gets decorated and we have friends in and out for days. On Christmas Eve we go to church. In the morning we get up and have breakfast and open presents. If you can’t think of anything you want maybe we can think of something for you.”

         He was sitting in a warm kitchen looking out the window at the falling snow, eating buttered toast with homemade strawberry jam and drinking hot chocolate. There was a fragrance of baking in the air. He could not think of anything else in the world to want. And then he remembered one thing. Last Christmas the Salvation Army people came to the neighborhood and played music in the street. There was a man who played a trumpet and Tim had loved the sound of it, almost like the glory of the Lord shining round about. He wondered if he could learn to play one. Maybe he would like to have a trumpet and somebody to teach him how. He would think about that some more.

         Jess and Joey came in then, stomping the snow off their boots on the steps. Joey started to ask if he could go over to Neville’s to go sledding with Matthew and Davy, but then he looked at Tim. He knew Tim couldn’t go out because it was too soon after his tonsils, so he said, “Tim do you want to whip me playing Monopoly again?”

         Jess was getting out of his work boots. Joey was choosing to stay indoors on a snow day and play a game with Tim, knowing he would once again be defeated ignominiously. The boys were really starting to like each other. They would always squabble but it was more good-natured these days. They were learning to be brothers.

         Joey went to the cupboard to get out the game board.


         It was a week later that Tim had his court date to finalize his probation and custody. Judge Meadows wouldn't even recognize him. The last time she had seen him he had been a little scarecrow with a shaved head wearing a shirt that was stained and too big for him cringing in fear of just about everything.

         In six months he had become someone entirely different, and it was not just that he weighed more and his quick smile showed a row of even white teeth, nicely capped. It was not even that he had grown taller, nearly two inches. His whole body language was different.

         He was dressed for his court appearance in a nice blue blazer and navy wool slacks, wearing a white shirt and tie. His hair had grown in by now. “You look great,” Jesse told him.

         Tim looked in the mirror and smiled self-consciously at his reflection. He did look good. He still needed to gain some weight, but that would be no problem. He was wearing glasses he hadn't even known he needed until he got them. Jesse had paid extra for the frames, saying the pink plastic owl eyes the county would have paid for weren't good enough. Jesse had to wear the owl eyes when he was a kid and had hated them! The caps on Tim's teeth were something Jess had fought for. It was not often that the county spent that kind of money but Jess would not take no for an answer. He reasoned with them that getting Tim on the right track now would save the county a ton of money down the road since he would not be coming up in court or entering the prison system. And patched up teeth would just not do for him. Jess was prepared to go to the wire for it. He would have found a way to pay for it himself if it had come to that. They gave him what he wanted. The results were excellent, and Tim had no reason any more not to smile.

         Jess thought all Tim had to do was flash that smile at Judge Meadows and she would see for herself that she had made a wise decision.


         This hearing was in Chambers. The first one had been in the courtroom. The room was imposing, even intimidating with dark heavy furniture and dark heavy draperies and thick muffling carpet. There was a portrait of the Governor on one wall and a tapestry with the New Jersey seal on the opposite wall.

         Jess whispered to Tim that they could not sit down until the judge was seated. Tim knew that; you do not sit down until the lady does, even if she isn’t a judge. He was learning his manners, after all! Judge Meadows arrived a few minutes later. She handed a sheaf of papers to her clerk who went out with them. She sat at the desk and invited them to sit down, too.

         She opened the folder that had been placed on her desk. “Timothy Dorney,” she read and looked up at the boy before her. “How is it going, Timothy?” She could see for herself, but she asked anyway.

         He said, “Great!” and then remembered and added, “Your Honor.”

         He had stood up to speak to her as Jesse had told him he should but she said he could be seated, this was an informal interview. “I don’t even have my wooden hammer with me,” she quipped.

         She said she had read the reports and was satisfied Tim was doing well. She admitted she would not even have known him. She said they would have to take a new ID photo. She asked him, “Do you want to continue in the custody of Mr. MacIver and Mrs. Cate?”

         “Yes, ma’am!"

         She had an ID picture in front of her, taken of Tim at the time of his previous court appearance six months ago. It was a picture of a sickly child with a shaved head and a somber sad face. Six months later she was looking at a handsome smiling youth, who had no fear in him now, as there had been when he was here before. It had been obvious then he was afraid of the man who wanted to become his governor. It was not lost on her now that Tim imitated Jesse; even to the way he pushed up his glasses and folded his hands in his lap. Fear had turned into adoration. This man, who in the usual way of looking at things was at least ten years too young for the job, had done splendidly. The child was transformed. She was looking at a boy who had gained weight and grown taller and become an honor student in his care. She wished all her placements could turn out half as well as this one. This case about which she had had so many misgivings had turned out to be a stellar success.

         She began speaking to Jess. “I thought you were too young for this, I thought you would not know how to manage a boy with as many needs as Timothy had six months ago. I know how hard you fought to get the county to pay for caps for his teeth. I signed the order myself.” Turning to Tim she said. “Your school records show you’ve been promoted to eighth grade already, Timothy. That must have been a lot of work. I’m proud of you!”

         “Jess helped me with the math, and Miss Walker and Mr. Shriver helped me with English and history and science.”

         There was no question about finalizing Tim’s custody. The judge explained that his police record would be expunged on his eighteenth birthday. Jesse presented Tim’s petition to be allowed to visit his father.

         “Why do you want to visit your father?” she asked him

         “Because he’s my father. He never had a chance like I’ve got. I don’t hold nothing ~~ anything against him. I write to him but he can’t read or write so he can’t write to me. Jess goes to see him.”

         “He abused you very badly,” she said.

         “I forgive him. Unless you forgive, the bad stuff goes on and on. You have to let go of it and start over.”

         “Who taught you that?”

         “Jess did and my teacher at church is Ray Sheal. He talked to me about it.”

         She turned to Jess. “Will you take him to Trenton to see his father?”

         “Yes, I think it’s a good idea.”

         “I do, too.” She pressed a button and spoke into the intercom to her clerk asking for a form she wanted.

         The clerk brought it after a moment. “Thank you,” she said and began writing on it. “This will give Timothy access to enter the prison as far as the family visitation room. We don’t usually allow this in a case where there has been abuse, but I think this time it’s appropriate, as long as you go with him.” She turned over a paper in his folder. We have all his medical reports here. Everything is in order. I see you've had your tonsils out.”

         “Trina said it gave her a chance to spoil me,” Tim said and then blushed a little. He wondered if he ought to have said that.

         Pamela Meadows smiled appreciatively. “So do you think you’re spoiled?”

         He nodded with a self-conscious laugh.

         “Good, I think you’re entitled to it. Enjoy it!”

         She closed the folder and set it aside and stood up, indicating that the interview was over. “I probably won’t be seeing you again, Timothy. Have a wonderful life! I am sure you will."

         She shook hands with them and they left together. Tim said, “Now I really belong to you!”