10

 

Maven opened her eyes, totally exhausted. How would she get through another day? Moses had awakened during the night with another screaming session, and nothing she did soothed him. She could only hope he didn’t wake Paul or any of her other neighbors. This was the third night in a row with very little sleep.

Moses showed no signs of sleep deprivation during the day. His energy never seemed to flag the way hers did.

She was way too old for this mothering thing—even temporarily. But she’d made a commitment. She’d turned the light on in his room, went back to her own bed, and put the pillow over her head. Eventually he’d stopped screaming, and she’d managed a few hours of sleep. But now she was so tired. Over the years, many of her students’ parents complained about their child’s sleep problems. She’d been sympathetic as they described the sleep deprivation, but she’d not had any real idea what that meant.

Now, she did.

 

~*~

 

Maven walked into Moses’s bedroom.

She wasn’t sure if his screaming at night was nightmares or just frustration at the situation he found himself in. Or missing the people he loved. There must have been someone who loved him and whom he loved. And now here he was, living with a stranger, not being able to communicate.

Maven could imagine his fear and frustration.

God, grant me energy and compassion for this sweet little boy. None of this is his fault.

He sat at his desk, drawing, his blue eyes squinted with concentration. The sunlight made his hair seem even blonder.

Amazed at his focus, Maven spoke softly so as not to startle him. “Good morning, Moses. How are you today?”

His crayon stopped moving for a moment, and then he bent back over his work.

Maven walked over. “Hey, what are you drawing? Can I see it?”

He gave a sidelong glance, and then went back to the drawing. After a few moments, he set the crayon down and handed her the paper.

Maven’s jaw dropped.

She’d expected a childlike drawing of a sun and house or maybe a dog. Not this. In her hand, she held a startling life-like production of a young woman. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks. Her hair was a bit too yellow, but other than that, it could be a real person. Could this be his mother?

“Wow, this is beautiful.” She bent down so she was eye level with him. “Who is this, Moses? Is this your mommy?”

Before she knew what was happening, his hands moved up to her cheeks. He held them between his hands and said, “I love you, baby.”

The shock of hearing him speak stunned her. She started to put her arms around him, but he jumped up off the chair and moved away from her, their connection broken. Maven stared down at the picture.

Whether this woman was his mother or not, she was somebody important to him. This sad woman knew Moses’s real name.

Maven needed to find her.