“I love macaroni and cheese.” Christopher stood on a chair pulled up next to Lauren at the stove and stirred the pasta and powdered cheese together.
Molly was at the cupboard putting away peanut butter, tuna fish, spaghetti sauce, pastas, bread, breakfast cereal, and assorted canned vegetables. Bananas and apples sat in a basket on the counter. The refrigerator was stocked with milk, juice, eggs, and yogurt. A generous gift card to the nearest grocery store would ensure Molly could get more fresh food.
Lauren patted Christopher’s back and smiled over his head at his mother.
“He doesn’t remember that we didn’t always eat out of boxes,” Molly said softly. “I pureed his baby food out of organic ingredients.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Lauren said. “You’re taking care of your son the very best way you can right now.”
“This is the fourth place we’ve lived in a year,” Molly said. “Each one is crummier than the one before.”
“Christopher knows you love him. That’s what matters.” Lauren put her hand over his and stirred the mixture with slightly more force.
The house was dismal. Lauren wouldn’t deny that reality. Standing next to the back door, she felt the draft that came in through the cracks around it. The curtains looked like they hadn’t been replaced in twenty years, and the linoleum floor had a crack that ran the length of the room. None of the chairs matched the table or each other. In the living room, the unpolished wood floors were gouged and lacked the rugs that would have warmed up the room.
Christopher hadn’t taken off the brown-and-green winter jacket since Lauren first helped him zip it up. It fit him well, with plenty of room for the growth spurt he might have over the winter. When they got home, Molly had coaxed him to take off his hat and gloves with the compromise that he could sleep in his new jacket that night even though the house was comfortably warm.
“This looks just about done.” Lauren glanced at the green beans heating on the rear burner. She had already promised Christopher she would eat with them and confided that mac and cheese had been her favorite food when she was his age.
Molly lifted Christopher off the stool and they moved to the table. Lauren sat between mother and son and offered her open hands.
“I’d like to ask the blessing,” she said.
Christopher sobered, shook his head, and put his hands in his lap.
Lauren raised her eyebrows toward Molly.
“We haven’t asked a blessing in a long time,” Molly said. “He’s not used to it.”
“Do you mind?” Lauren asked.
“I wish you would. I’m so grateful tonight.”
Lauren kept her prayer simple and childlike, using words she hoped Christopher would understand. They ate macaroni, beans, and salad greens. Christopher asked for two refills of milk, making Lauren wonder about the last time the child had unlimited access to filling food.
“Time for your jammies.” Molly prodded Christopher when he had scraped his plate clean. “You can put your coat back on after you change.”
Once her son left the room, Molly turned tear-filled eyes to Lauren. “I was so desperate this afternoon when I found out the community center couldn’t help us. And then there you were.”
“We were both where we needed to be.” Lauren had come so close to simply phoning the community center and taking her chances with leaving a message for the director. Even after she was there, she’d almost let Molly and her son walk out of the center. The clipboard was still in her bag, untouched for the last few hours. Tomorrow was Thursday. She had only two days to pull the fair together. When she got home tonight, she would call the other members of the committee and begin trying to share the load—if it wasn’t too late to make phone calls.
“We’ve taken up so much of your time,” Molly said.
“I was glad to give it.” Lauren stacked the plates. “I hope you’ll come to the fair on Saturday. We’re planning fun for the kids, and I think you’ll meet people you’ll really like.”
“The only thing that will keep us away is if I find a job.”
Lauren wondered who would look after Christopher when Molly found work. He had just missed the cut-off for being old enough to go to school. One challenge at a time, she reminded herself.
Christopher returned to the kitchen in Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas that were too short and his new coat. “I can’t zip it myself.”
“We’ll have to work on that,” Molly said.
Rather than standing before his mother, Christopher presented himself for Lauren’s assistance. “Can you tell me a story while I fall asleep?”
“Oh, honey,” Molly said, “Lauren has done a lot for us today.”
His face fell.
“I would be happy to do it,” Lauren said. She didn’t care if she didn’t make her calls that night no matter what the consequence would be tomorrow.
“At least let me help you brush your teeth.” Molly steered the boy toward the bathroom.
Lauren ran water in the kitchen sink and started on the dishes while she waited for Molly’s return.
“He’s ready,” Molly said. “But make it a short story. He needs his sleep, and you have things to do. We’ve imposed enough.”
Lauren found Christopher’s bedroom. There were only two rooms at the other side of the house. He was in his jacket and under a quilt. In the background, Lauren heard his mother cleaning up after the meal.
She sat on the bed. “This story is about a little boy who loves macaroni and cheese.”
Lauren filled the story with bits and pieces of Christopher’s own day—at least the good parts she had witnessed for herself. After only a few minutes, his eyes closed and his shoulders drooped. She lowered her voice and spoke more slowly, matching her cadence to his even breathing until she was sure his slumber had passed the fragility of waking. Lauren managed to stand up without disturbing him and, on impulse, leaned over his face to give him the butterfly kisses she had learned from her Nana, her eyelashes barely brushing his cheek. Christopher shifted his head on the pillow but didn’t wake. At his door, ready to pull it closed behind her, Lauren turned to watch him. A prayer welled in her for this little boy to know blessing more than fear.
Molly was in the hall and embraced Lauren. “I can’t remember the last time someone was so kind to me. You’ve given us both a beautiful day. It gives me hope in my spirit. I had just about given up on hope.”
Just about.
Lauren patted Molly’s back. When Molly woke in the morning, she would still have no job and crushing debt. She would still be raising a child alone. She would still be living in a dismally furnished rental house. She would still grieve the little girl she had laid in the ground last year and the dismantling of a life where she had been loved and happy. Lauren knew nothing she had done that day would solve the disappointments of Molly’s existence. But for now, her son had a warm jacket, new shoes, and food. It was a start.
Outside Molly’s house, Lauren remembered she had ridden her bicycle out to the community center. Molly drove them around town to the various businesses that allowed Lauren to find a chink in the desperation of Molly’s day and ignite hope. Lauren could walk to her apartment easily enough from the edge of town. The movement would give her time to pray for Molly and Christopher.
Nothing about the last four days had been what Lauren expected. In her small corner of the world, Lauren had just about given up hope herself—hope for the health fair, hope for being able to do it well, hope for caring enough to carry through when she was exhausted.
She had lost another precious day.
And she would do it again in a heartbeat.