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Sandra sat down, trying to hide how much this hurt. Lewis gave her a fake smile, and Casey perched on the armrest beside him. Sandra wished she were anywhere else. She wished she were chasing Birch up and down a soccer field.
“Yes. I don’t mean to be overly protective, but I just want the boys to get along. Church should be a safe place for children—”
“Church is a safe place for children,” Lewis cut her off with a stern voice that confirmed what she already knew. This battle was lost.
She tried to smile. “Maybe we could get the boys together and talk it—”
It was Casey’s turn to interrupt. “We’ve already talked to Jack, and he has promised that he will work harder at getting along with Peter.”
Getting along with? That wasn’t the phrase she would have used. Maybe, “work harder at not bullying Peter” would be better. “That would be great,” she said. “Thanks for your time.” She stood to go.
“Just so you know, the boys say that Peter doesn’t work very hard at fitting in.”
She turned to look at Casey. What? What on earth did that mean? “I’m sorry?”
Casey stood. “Nothing to be sorry for.” Sandra was certain she’d never heard a more patronizing tone. “I just wanted you to know that Jack and Ethan are not entirely to blame here. Peter also needs to make an effort to get along better with his peers.”
Sandra forced a smile that she feared looked too much like a vampire about to lunge. “Of course. I’ll talk to him.” She turned and nearly ran for the door, opened it and let herself out before Casey could do it.
She managed to hold back the tears until she got into the minivan, but then they came. She could not believe how cold those two people had just been to her. Nate had been right. She should drop it. She would tell Peter to ignore them. Everyone had to deal with bullies, right? She still felt people shouldn’t have to deal with them at church, but maybe God was toughening Peter up for something.
Relief washed over her as she pulled back into her own driveway. Ignoring her husband, who was engrossed in the football game, she microwaved herself a bag of popcorn, discreetly dumped in a couple handfuls of chocolate chips, and then checked on Sammy, who was sound asleep in his crib. Grateful for that small gift, she secreted herself in her bedroom. She’d fought against Nate when he’d wanted to put a TV in the bedroom, but now she was grateful. She turned on Netflix and climbed onto the blessedly soft bed. She found Murder, She Wrote and pressed play.
A soft knock sounded on her door. She groaned and pressed pause. Her mini-vacation was already over. “Come in,” she called, trying to sound loving.
The door opened slowly to reveal Peter. She tried to hide her surprise. She’d been expecting Joanna. “Hi, honey. What’s up?”
He gingerly sat down on the foot of her bed. “I heard you and Dad talking.”
Shoot. “Okay.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“I told you it wouldn’t do any good.”
She decided to level with him. “And you were right.”
He blinked, surprised. Then he smiled. “So I take it coffee didn’t go well either?”
“She didn’t want coffee, and no, it didn’t go well. I’m sorry that you’re going through this, honey. I don’t think the parents are going to be much help. I can go to church leadership if you want?” She expected him to adamantly object, but he didn’t.
He appeared to be thinking it over. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
He studied the wall for several seconds. “I’ll let you know.” He stood to go. Then he looked at her. “Thanks for trying, Mom. I didn’t really want you to, but I know why you did it.” He gave her a smile that looked sort of sad.
“I sure do love you, honey. I’m sorry growing up is so hard.”
“I know you do. And it’s okay, most of the time.” He left her room, gently closing the door behind him. She was glad the boy had soccer, glad he was good at something, glad he had another place to be safe and have friends.
She settled back into the pillows and restarted her TV show, though she’d lost interest in both it and her chocolaty popcorn.