Chapter 13
Nora walked the mall. The Christmas store was open, but she walked past, disgusted. It wasn’t even Halloween, Thanksgiving a distant six weeks away, and yet soon the holly and Santas would be cropping up like weeds in every store window. Every year Christmas came earlier, bringing with it an inner sadness. Why was it Christmas always depressed her? No matter how big the tree, how bright the decorations, how frenetic the festivities, she felt alone and lonely.
Pausing by a toy store, Nora remembered the excitement of buying presents for her children when she was younger. Michael had loved LEGO toys from the time he was old enough to stack blocks. Over the years, she had purchased more and more complicated—and expensive—collections of the connecting plastic blocks. Where were they now? Stored in the garage in case a grandchild might someday want them? Or had Michael taken them with him when he moved away? She couldn’t remember.
The dolls in the store window reminded her of shopping for Anne . . . and the frustration that went along with it. One Christmas she had stood in line to buy a Cabbage Patch doll for her precious daughter. When the store announced there was no more stock available, she had forked over two hundred dollars to a lady who had purchased three. Greedy witch. When Annie had opened the pretty package and seen the doll, she had said a quiet thank-you, nestled it back in the box, and placed it under the tree.
“Don’t you like it? Every little girl wants one of these dolls. You have no idea how difficult it was to get one for you.”
“It’s nice, Mommy.”
Nora hated being called Mommy. She had reminded Anne-Lynn over and over to call her Mom or Mother. Mommy was for babies.
Anne had taken the doll to school with her. When she returned without it, Nora had been angry. She had been so certain Anne had lost it and wondered how she could be so careless. “Do you have any idea how much that doll cost me? Two hundred dollars! I should’ve just bought you one of those cheap Raggedy Ann dolls!” Then, to make matters worse, Anne-Lynn had cried and confessed she hadn’t lost it. She had given it away to a little girl who had received only a puzzle for Christmas. Standing at the toy store window now, Nora remembered how furious she had been over that. And why shouldn’t she have been? She had waited for hours, paid a ridiculous price for something every normal little girl wanted . . . and what did her daughter do? She gave the gift away as though it meant nothing to her.
Just as I mean nothing to her. Tears pricked Nora’s eyes as she stood gazing through the glass into the toy store. All the things I’ve done for my children, and do they appreciate it? They don’t care one iota about me or my feelings. All they care about is themselves. When did Michael last call me? On Mother’s Day last year? Oh, Anne calls, but always from Leota’s. Why does she keep asking if I’d like to come over for tea? Just to hurt my feelings? Just to let me know how much time and love she’s expending on my mother? Mother and Anne both know I don’t want to go over there for tea or anything else!
She bit her lip, the tears welling, her throat tight and hot. Her children were both so selfish! Did they know how cruel they were? I should cut them right out of my will. That would wake them up! And it would serve them right, too. They’ve abandoned me. I should abandon them. In fact, I should leave a letter to them and have the attorney read it aloud, telling them why I’ve cut them off. That would make them sorry. . . . That would make them writhe with guilt over how mean they’d been to her. If she had some fatal disease, like cancer, and she suffered for months . . .
Maybe they’d feel sorry then. Maybe Fred would be sorry, too.
She drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. Problem was, she was healthy. Physically. She had kept her weight down, exercised, eaten right. And yet she had just been to the doctor, wanting to know about the palpitations and stomachaches and headaches.
She was dying. She knew it. Even her bones ached. She must have cancer or something worse. She had gone through a battery of tests. Medical technicians had taken blood, made her drink barium, and done X-rays. When nothing was found, she insisted the doctor order an MRI. Today she had gotten the results.
“I can find nothing wrong with you, Nora.” His diagnosis: stress, which was causing psychosomatic symptoms. He suggested a psychiatrist. Furious, she told him she had been in counseling for years and it had done no good. Her life was worse now than it had ever been before. She’d burst into tears and said she wished she were dying. She wished she did have cancer. “Then they’d all be sorry for the way they’ve treated me!”
The doctor had talked with her for some time, encouraging her to check herself into some kind of care facility in the Santa Cruz Mountains, where she could rest, talk with a counselor, and reevaluate her life.
He thinks I’m crazy. She pressed a hand to her temple. Well, maybe she was. Maybe she was headed for a nervous breakdown. If she was, it certainly wasn’t her fault. Nobody loved her. Nobody had ever really loved her. Not even her own mother . . .
God, why? I don’t understand. I’ve tried so hard. I’ve done everything right, and it’s all gone wrong. Nothing I do turns out the way I want. Two men I loved ended up hating me. Two children I’ve borne don’t even want to talk to me.
Maybe I’ve always loved others too much. I should’ve been loving myself more instead of pouring time and money into my husbands and children. I should’ve been taking care of myself.
She turned from the store window and walked on, passing other ladies wandering in the mall. Some had children in strollers, some were walking with friends, and others sat on the pretty benches watching people pass. Nora paused again, looking in another window crowded with gift items.
Why shouldn’t she shop for herself? Why shouldn’t she buy something if it would make her feel better? Hadn’t she always purchased little gifts to cheer others up? It was time she cheered herself up. Entering the store, she wandered among the displays, picking things up and setting them down. She spotted something in a distant corner. It made her smile. The item was cute and utterly impractical. It was also expensive, considering what it was, but she liked it and that was all that mattered today. It was time to pamper Nora instead of Nora pampering others. She had plenty of cash, but she decided to put the item on a credit card. Fred always gave her an allowance, but she figured he owed her this much after his reticence of late. She made her purchase and left.
The warm, fuzzy feeling passed quickly. By the time Nora reached the parking lot, she wondered why she had wasted fifty dollars on a stuffed bear. What would Fred say when he saw the bill? Of course, it wouldn’t say bear on the debits. It would just list the store.
Sitting in her car, Nora took the bear from the bag and stared at it, hoping to resurrect the faint pleasure she had felt when she saw it in the first place. Maybe she had been thinking about future grandchildren. Her eyes welled, and tears spilled over. If her children ever did have babies of their own, maybe then they’d understand how she felt. They would know what a good mother she had been. They would know how she’d sacrificed for them. Maybe then—
A sudden picture filled her mind: Leota on her knees in the garden. Leota looking toward the house, tears running down her cheeks.
Where was I? Why didn’t I go out to her?
Nora shut her eyes tightly.
I was helping Grandma Reinhardt. That’s what I was doing. I was always helping Grandma. She said she didn’t know what she’d do without me. Anger stirred again. My mother never helped. All she ever did was take care of her own needs and wants. She never cared about anyone but herself.
Yet the picture remained. Along with it, another memory flickered. She could almost feel Grandma Reinhardt’s hand on her arm. “Nein. Your mama thinks it is fine to waste time planting flowers, but I have work to be done. You be a good girl and help with supper.”
Nora’s anger seeped away, leaving confusion and anguish. Stuffing the teddy bear in the shopping bag, she tossed it into the backseat. Jamming her key in the ignition, she started the car.
And then it surfaced again, the loneliness she had tried all her life to escape, the loneliness she wanted so desperately to press down where it wouldn’t be recognized. It welled up so strongly that she gripped the steering wheel. She could hardly breathe through the pain of realization. Tears blinded her.
I have a husband.
I have children.
And still, I’m alone.
Fred was home. His car was parked in the garage when Nora pulled in. She was filled with dismay and guilt at the sight of it. She had wasted the entire afternoon wandering in malls, window shopping. All for what? To feel better? She felt worse. Now Fred was home early, and she had no idea what to fix for dinner. Had she taken anything out of the freezer this morning? Probably not. Who thought about dinner when the doctor was going to tell you that you were dying of some dreaded disease?
Taking the bag with the bear in it, she got out of the car. She unlocked the side door from the garage into the house, letting out her breath slowly, trying to prepare herself for anything. As she entered the kitchen, she saw an open box of pizza on the counter. Two slices missing. Fred was sitting in the family room, watching the evening news, a glass of wine on the side table. He’d changed from his suit and was wearing khaki slacks and a navy-blue sweater. He always dressed nicely, even when lounging around the house. He was one of those men who grew more handsome with the years.
Please, God, don’t let him stop loving me the way Bryan and Dean did. Please.
Fred looked at her, eyes troubled. “What did the doctor say?”
“Is that why you’re home early?”
“I was worried about you. It’s pretty late.”
She set her purse on the counter. “I had some shopping to do.” Her mouth trembled. “A gift.” She didn’t tell him it was for herself.
“What’s the diagnosis?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Nothing wrong. I’m healthy as a horse. The doctor thinks I should be committed.”
His mouth tipped. “You might think about it.”
Nora burst into tears. Covering her face, she stood in the kitchen sobbing. She wished she were dead. She should drive into a tree or off a cliff into the ocean. Then her children would be sorry for treating her so badly.
She felt Fred’s arms slide around her. He drew her close. “I love you,” he said softly. “You drive me crazy, Nora, but I love you.”
She clung to him and sobbed harder, thinking of all the ways she had neglected him lately. “I don’t deserve you.”
“No, you don’t,” he said with a hint of humor. “Just got lucky, I guess.”
She drew back slightly and smiled up at him through her tears. What would she do without him? She remembered the harsh words she had spoken only yesterday. She thought of the account he had lost because of her forgetfulness. “You forgive me everything.” He was the kindest man she had ever met. His gentle spirit had been one of the things that attracted her to him.
“We need help, Nora. We can’t go on this way.”
A niggling fear coursed through her. She could hear some inner bell tolling the death of another marriage. Kindness before the killing blow.
“You were the first woman I ever loved,” Bryan had said the night before he walked out on her. The note he left behind was the last thing he ever wrote to her. Including child support checks. How a man could manage to disappear so quickly and completely, she had never been able to understand.
Dean hadn’t been so nice about it. “If you have anything to say to me, do it through your lawyer.”
Nora shriveled inside. I can’t go through it again. God, help me. I can’t.
Whatever Fred wanted, she would do. She couldn’t bear to fail again. She was so weary of the fight, sick of life, sick of herself. “Maybe you’re right,” she said meekly. “What do you think we should do?”
“Start by meeting with the pastor.”
“He doesn’t like me.” She withdrew from his arms and turned away. “I went to him a couple of weeks ago asking for help.”
“And?”
She put her arms around herself. “He said I wasn’t a Christian.”
“Why would he say a thing like that?”
Didn’t he believe her? “Well, he didn’t say it straight out. He implied it.”
“I reminded him how long I’ve been going to that church and how much money we’ve given and then I left.”
“I meant before,” Fred said quietly. “To give him that impression.”
“I don’t remember.”
Fred didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to utter a word. She felt ashamed and embarrassed and defensive. Her emotions were so muddled. She didn’t want to think about Pastor Burnie. She didn’t want to think about what he said, what she said . . .
She turned back to Fred. “Maybe if we go away for a weekend. To San Francisco. Or better yet, Carmel. We could get off by ourselves. Just the two of us.”
“It’s just the two of us now, Nora.”
Hurt spread through her, gripping her heart. “You needn’t remind me that Anne’s left home without so much as a kiss good-bye.” She turned away. “That was cruel, Fred, and after I’ve had such a horrid day.” She rubbed her temple, feeling the beginning of another headache coming on. “I called Anne-Lynn this morning. She said she was on her way to art class when what she really meant was she didn’t want to talk to me for even one minute,” she said bitterly. “She didn’t even give me the chance to tell her how sick I’ve been and all the tests I’ve endured.”
All to find out there was nothing wrong with her. That it was all in her head. Stress. And who was to blame for that?
Fred took her shoulders. “Annie’s grown up, Nora. You can’t make her come home and be your little girl again.”
“I wasn’t trying to do that!”
He let go of her. “Weren’t you? As long as she was here, you could tell her what to do. She has to learn to stand on her own.”
She turned. “That’s not true. I’ve never tried to run her life.”
“You didn’t try, Nora. You did. The poor girl couldn’t breathe without you telling her how much air she could take in.”
“How can you say such a thing? All I’ve ever done is love—”
“For as long as I’ve known you and Annie, you’ve been running her life. Control, Nora. That’s what it’s all about with you, isn’t it? I have to tell you, I was proud of her when she finally stood up to you and left.”
Nora stared up at him, stunned. “Proud?”
“Yes, proud!”
Defensive anger welled up inside her. “You just didn’t want her around anymore—isn’t that what you really mean? You were jealous of our relationship. You never did understand how close we were. She wasn’t your child. She was mine.” She saw the look on his face and knew her words were like daggers in his heart. Let them be. He had hurt her first. “The sooner Annie was out of here, the sooner you thought you’d have me all to yourself to do whatever you want whenever you want.”
As the torrent of angry words poured from her mouth, part of her was screaming. Why are you doing this to him? Stop it. Stop it! Yet the flood came pouring down, drowning them both in her bitterness.
How many words did it take to do irrevocable damage?
Silence reigned between them for a full minute before Fred spoke in a weary voice. “When have you ever done anything someone else wanted, Nora?”
“I’m always doing for others. I’ve done everything for them from the time they were babies. You can’t understand how I feel because you’ve never had children of your own.”
“I wanted them, Nora, but you weren’t willing.”
“Don’t throw that in my face now, Fred. How could I think about having a baby when Michael was in college and Anne-Lynn was consuming so much of my time?” She heard her own words echo and saw the expression on his face. “I love Annie.”
“That may be, Nora, but you love yourself more. You love yourself above everyone and everything.”
She stared, bereft. “How can you say that to me after all I’ve done for them? When Annie left, I was devastated. You know I was.”
“Oh, I know. Everyone knows. But the truth is you were devastated for all the wrong reasons. You thought you were in control. You had her future all laid out, years ahead.”
“She wanted to go to college!”
“No, Nora. You wanted her to go to college! All I’ve ever heard is how much you wanted to go and never had the chance. I always wanted to ask. What stopped you?”
“What are you saying? That I should go to school now?”
“It takes guts to live your own life, doesn’t it, Nora? All you’ve ever done is tell others how to run theirs. All you’ve ever done is bully your children into living for you.”
She was furious. “How can you say such cruel things to me?”
He sighed. “I’m saying it because it’s the sorry truth, and it’s about time you hear it from someone who loves you.”
“Love? Is that what you call this? You don’t know the first thing about love!”
He went back into the empty family room and sat down, eyes straight ahead on the droning television. “Have you ever asked yourself why your son never calls or comes home? Michael was the first one you drove away. No, I take that back. Maybe it was Bryan Taggart.”
Pain swept through her. “I hate you.” She was weeping again.
“You’ve never faced the truth about anything.”
“It’s not the truth. Michael cares.”
“About what?” Picking up the remote, Fred changed the channel.
Himself, came the betraying thought. She rebelled against it. “You don’t know my son the way I do.”
“I know his mother. That’s enough.” Fred turned up the volume.
Trembling, Nora snatched up her purse and went upstairs. Tossing her purse into a wing chair, she yanked off her camel-hair blazer and went into her closet to hang it up. She was still shaking violently. She sat on the edge of the bed. Fred’s words kept ringing in her ears: “It takes guts to live your own life. . . . You thought you were in control . . .”
“He’s wrong.”
Look around you.
Raising her head, Nora looked at the elegant Ethan Allen furnishings, the expensive draperies, the faint, peach-colored walls with original oil paintings and signed prints she had purchased from an exclusive San Francisco gallery. She had picked out everything herself, sparing no expense. How many thousands of dollars had she spent doing this room exactly the way she wanted it? Had she ever asked Fred what he might like?
She had done every room in this house the same way, including Michael’s and Anne’s. She had poured blessings lavishly upon her children. They had only the best. The best schools, the best neighborhood, the best clothing, the best toys, the best lessons, the most affluent church, the right friends.
To what purpose? To what end?
“It takes guts to live your own life. . . .”
She heard a still, small voice questioning her. Did you, beloved?
I did. I did! I wanted Michael and Anne-Lynn to have a better life than the one I had. I wanted to be there for them the way my mother never was for me. I wanted to give them everything I ever wanted. I wanted . . . I wanted . . . love.
Nora covered her face with her hands, and her bitter weeping drowned out the quiet, beckoning voice of the very thing she sought.
Ruth came out of the bathroom and stared at Corban, her face ashen, her eyes red. “Guess what?” She held out a white, plastic object.
“What?” He peered at it, baffled. Her eyes were burning with anger, boring into him with dark accusation. “What is it?”
“A pregnancy test! What do you think it is?” She thrust it in front of him. “It’s blue. See? Positive!” She uttered a foul expletive.
He could feel the blood running out of his face. His body was going cold, then hot. “I thought you were on the pill.”
“I am on the pill. Not that birth control should be my sole responsibility!”
“That’s not what I meant.” He tried to stay calm. He tried to think. “How far along?”
“Two months. Three. I don’t know! I didn’t even think about it until I started throwing up a few days ago.” She threw the test into the trash beside his desk and cursed again. “Jessie said I might be pregnant. So I thought I’d better find out.”
Corban didn’t know what to say. A baby! The first thought that came to him was how had he managed to get himself into this mess and how was he going to get himself out of it. Over the past few weeks, he had come to realize he wasn’t in love with Ruth Coldwell. In fact, he wasn’t sure he liked her all that much. Their affair had started in lust, pure and simple. Well, maybe not so pure. He had begun to wonder about Ruth’s feelings within the first few months of living with her. Her motives had become pretty clear. She had needed someone to bankroll her living expenses while she went through school on scholarships. She liked his apartment, his car, his bank account. Pretty simple to figure out once ego was out of the way.
Well, now things weren’t so simple.
“Stop looking at me that way!” she said, angry and distressed.
“What way?”
“Like I planned this pregnancy.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“Darn right I didn’t. The last thing I wanted was to get pregnant.” She looked down as though she couldn’t even bear to touch herself. “I’ve already gained two pounds.” She burst into tears. “Why did this have to happen? Everything was so perfect!”
Perfect?
He could feel the perspiration beading on his forehead. His heart was pounding. His stomach was in a knot. Ruth was pregnant with his child. He looked at the plastic test in the trash and felt a rush of heat through him. Was it shame? Fear? Wonder? He couldn’t even begin to assess the feelings stirring in him. He had to think, but she was pacing like a caged animal. He wanted to quiet her, to calm her. “We’ll work it out, Ruth.”
She stopped and glared. “Work what out?”
“What we’re going to do.” He stood up and went to her. “This isn’t just your problem, you know. We’re in it together.”
Her shoulders hunched slightly. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said bleakly. “I’ve been so careful.” Corban drew her close when she began to cry. He had never seen or heard Ruth cry. He didn’t think she could.
“It’ll be all right.” He rubbed her back, as though she were a frightened child, he the adult. He took on his new role of comforter willingly, if not eagerly. The panic was passing, the possibilities rising. He felt strangely protective. “People have had babies before us and made it through school.”
She went rigid in his arms. “You’re not suggesting I have it, are you?” She drew back from him. “Don’t even go down that road, Cory.”
He went cold inside at the look on her face. “Why not? You’d be done with the school year before—”
“No way!” Her eyes were hot. “Are you out of your mind?”
He frowned. “I graduate in June.”
“Well, I don’t.” She turned and walked away, sitting in the chair on the other side of the room. Crossing her legs Indian fashion, she gripped her knees and looked at him coolly. “What about grad school? You’re going to graduate magna cum laude. You’ve already had an interview at Stanford. I still have another year . . .”
“You could transfer.”
“Yeah, right. And who’s going to pay my tuition? Santa Claus? My scholarship is here. I can’t go off to whatever college I want. I don’t have a trust fund.”
She was firing all her guns at him, and he didn’t like it. A coldness seeped into him. How had he ever gotten involved with this girl? Her eyes flickered. Could she see what he was feeling? Was it written on his face? She looked away again and bit her lip. It was a little late to hold her tongue. She looked at him again, troubled. “We always agreed, Cory. First things first. Graduate from college, then . . .”
Then what? He wondered now. Had they ever really discussed the after part? He felt sick inside. He knew he couldn’t make any promises about financing her education, especially at Stanford.
A baby. His baby. He thought about the choices before them.
“Look,” he said cautiously, “I haven’t decided to go to Stanford. There’s nothing wrong with staying here in Berkeley.”
“You want to go to Stanford and you know it. Don’t tell me you don’t. If you stayed here, you’d resent having to change your plans.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Get real.” Her face was rigid and pale. “I’ve missed two classes this week because I was too sick to go. I think they call it morning sickness. Only I’m sick until past noon. How many classes do you think I can miss and still keep my grades up enough to hold on to my scholarship?”
He knew what she was thinking. He had listened to all the arguments for abortion and agreed with every one of them. Up until this moment, he had been pro-choice. Now he wasn’t so sure. This was his child she was talking about. Something on the elemental level had shifted inside him. All the rhetoric didn’t seem to matter. All the rationale, the justifications, the excuses.
Plain and simple, he felt sick at the thought of her having an abortion.
“I know it’s not the best time—” he chose his words carefully—“but we can figure things out. If you don’t want to keep the baby, we can give it up for adoption.”
“I can’t believe it. You’re really suggesting I have it!” She sprang up and paced again. “This isn’t a trophy we’re talking about, Cory. This is my life!”
“I know, Ruth, but it’s my child.”
She stopped and glared at him. “I can’t believe you said that. It’s not a child yet. Don’t call it a child.”
“Spare me the feminist manure, Ruth. We’ve both had physiology and anatomy. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll pay for everything. I’ll take responsibility. I’ll even marry you, if you want.”
“Thanks for the romantic proposal.” She turned away, hugging herself.
Shame gripped him. Crossing the room, he put his hands on her arms. “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.” He caressed her arms. “Ruth, I’m sorry. If I could undo things, I would. I know this wasn’t planned. I know how much your education matters to you. I wouldn’t ask you to give up on it. Just sit tight for a few days, all right? Let’s think things over. Let’s weigh all the options. Isn’t that what choice is all about? Knowing there are options.”
He felt her muscles relaxing. She let out a shaky breath. “I’m scared. I’m so scared, Cory.”
Corban leaned down and kissed the curve of her neck. “So am I.”
He wondered if they were afraid for the same reasons.
“You there!” Leota shouted from her front door. “Leave those children alone or I’m calling the police.”
The two teenagers bullying Arba Wilson’s children shouted obscenities at her and took off down the street. She came out onto her porch. “Come on inside, you three. You’re sitting ducks for any little hoodlums out there on the sidewalk. Didn’t your mother tell you to play in the backyard?” She held the door wide open for them. “Go on into the bathroom and clean yourself up, Vermont.”
“My name ain’t Vermont.”
“It is when you’re in my house. Now, get going.” The two little girls were crying. She closed the screen door, latched it, closed the front door, and double locked it. “You two come into the kitchen with me.” She took two dish towels from a drawer and wet them with tap water. She gave one to each and told them to wipe their faces. “What did those two boys want, anyway?”
“They wanted Nile to let ’em in the house.”
Nile stood in the doorway, a wet cloth pressed over his eye.
“You’re a brave boy.”
“Don’t call me boy.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Fine. You’re a brave young man. Do you like that better? Now plant your tailbone in that chair and cool off.”
“Why should I?”
“Keep standing in the doorway, and I’ll give your cookies and milk to the girls.”
Nile sat.
“Mama’ll wonder where we are.” Kenya wiped tears from her cheeks.
Leota patted her shoulder. “She’ll know, honey. I told her you three were welcome here. You can consider this a safe house. Carolina, you sit there. Indiana, you can have my chair. What time does your mama get home?”
“Six,” Indiana said. “She’s picking up Kentucky Fried Chicken tonight.”
“It’s her favorite,” Nile said with a jerk of his head toward Kenya-Carolina. “She gets it ’cause it’s her birthday today.”
“Your birthday, is it? How old are you?”
“Seven.”
“Well, I’m twelve times seven. So what does that make me?”
“Eighty-four,” Nile said in a split second, adding, “Old.”
“Brave and good at math. Looks like you have a fine future ahead of you, unless you let your lips start moving before your brain’s in gear.”
Indiana giggled. “You talk funny.”
“It’s called English, honey. I don’t know ebonics.” Leota put the icing-covered animal crackers on a pretty porcelain plate. By the time she poured three glasses of milk and set them down, the cookies were almost gone. Tunisha-Indiana had saved three for her. The Wilson children were polite. They said thank you. Even Nile-Vermont, who had put the wet rag aside. His eye was going to be swollen shut by the time his mama arrived.
She took the three cookies from Tunisha’s hand and gave one to each of the children. One bag of cookies cost three dollars and eighty-nine cents. On sale. No wonder Arba Wilson had to work such long hours. Leota couldn’t help wondering how many buckets of chicken the poor woman would have to buy in order to fill up these growing children.
Six o’clock was still two and a half hours away. Resigned, Leota went to her pantry.
The three children ate two cans of fruit cocktail, six slices of bread, and three slices of American cheese before they were full. Leota stopped counting up the cost. The truth was, she enjoyed having them in her kitchen. They relaxed and chattered like little magpies. She had the feeling that now that they were refueled, they’d be running like Energizer bunnies.
“Would you like to watch television?” Anything to keep them calm and quiet. And inside where they were safe.
The children followed her into the living room. Unfortunately, talk shows and soap operas seemed to dominate the schedule. “Too bad I don’t have any children’s books. I could read to you.”
“I have a book,” Tunisha said. “I got it from the school library. It’s in my backpack.” She was out the front door and gone before Leota could call her back. Concerned those bullies might still be around, she went out on the front porch and waited. Tunisha ran up the driveway and around to the back of their house. Leota heard the screen door slam. A minute later it slammed again, and the girl came running back down the driveway with a book in her hand.
Leota watched her come up the steps. “Did you lock the back door?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Panting, she handed Leota the book she had checked out.
“The Wind in the Willows.” Leota smiled. “Well, we’ll see how far we get before your mama comes home.”
A few minutes after six, the doorbell rang. Leota couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. Before their mother was even in the door, the girls were recounting the trouble on the sidewalk, the snack of animal crackers, fruit cocktail, bread, and cheese, and the adventures of Mole. Arba tried to shush them, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. Worse, she looked scared. She tipped Nile’s face up and inspected his eye. Then she looked at Leota. “Thank you for stepping in, Mrs. Reinhardt. I hope they haven’t been too much of a bother.”
“You can call me Leota, and they’ve been perfect ladies and gentleman.” As soon as she had started reading, they had gone quiet as little mice. A pity she wouldn’t get to finish reading the story. She’d been enjoying it. Resigned, she took a piece of junk mail from her side table, tucked it into the book, and closed it. “Don’t forget your book, Indiana.”
Tunisha took it and held it against her chest. “Would you read some more tomorrow?”
Arba Wilson winced. “No, Tuny.” She ran her hand tenderly over her daughter’s neat cornrows. “Mrs. Reinhardt has more important things to do.”
“Like what?” Leota said bluntly.
Arba’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“I’d like to hear the end of the story.”
Indiana grinned broadly at Leota and then up at her mother. “Can we, Mama? Please?”
Carolina snuggled against her mother. “Please? Can we? Can we?”
“A smart woman knows when she’s defeated.” Leota managed to restrain her smile. Tomorrow was Wednesday. Corban Solsek would be coming over to take her shopping again. She had better write up a new grocery list. She needed to lay in supplies.