Skyward. Mary Monroe Alice

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      “Is there a room for me up there?”

      “No-o-o,” she drawled, looking at her as if she was crazy to ask. “There’s only my bed up there. And a closet where Daddy puts all his stuff.”

      “Ah, I see.”

      Did she, she wondered? The house was much smaller than she’d imagined it would be and there didn’t seem to be any other rooms. She chewed her lip, seized with a sudden fear that she’d misunderstood Mr. Henderson’s job description.

      “Coffee?” Harris called, stepping into the room carrying a tray from the kitchen.

      She settled herself on a hard chair by the warm stove. He’d thoughtfully put leftover holiday gingerbread cookies and chunks of cheese on crackers on a plate along with a blue pottery pitcher filled with milk. He poured a glass of it for Marion and set a few chunks of cheese on a napkin before her. She quickly gobbled them up. Ella took a sip from her mug, glad to have something to do with her hands in the awkward silence. The coffee was good and strong, not that black water some people made. Restored, she waited until he was settled on the sofa with his coffee before speaking.

      “Mr. Henderson,” she began, sitting straight in her chair. “Allow me to get right to the point. This is a live-in situation, isn’t it?”

      He hesitated with his mug close to his lips. He placed it back on the table and put his hands on his knees. “Yes.” A faint blush colored his cheeks as he chose his words. “I realize that the house is small. Not too small, I hope. It might be a bit cramped at first, but once the weather warms, I figured…well, there’s a small cabin by the pond. There’s no heat, you see. But come spring, I could move there. And use the outdoor shower.”

      “Oh, I’m sure the house will be fine,” she replied hastily, relieved that she hadn’t misunderstood. “But…Mr. Henderson, which is to be my room?”

      Understanding dawned on his features and he brightened. “I guess I should have showed you that right away. I gave you the main bedroom. It’s the largest and it has a nice view of the pond. I put a little television in there, too. And a small rolltop desk. I thought, well, I figured you’d want some privacy.”

      “I hate to put you out.”

      “It’s no problem. There’s a bed in my study for me. I’ll sleep fine there, and besides, I’m at the clinic most hours, anyway.”

      Ella was enormously relieved. It would be cramped, indeed, but manageable.

      She saw Marion eyeing the cookies. Ella reached out to place a few more crackers and cheese on the child’s plate. These she ate without argument. Ella made a mental note to toss away all the gingerbread cookies, cakes and other sugary items that might tempt a five-year-old.

      “Can you tell me about Marion’s diabetes,” Ella began. “What are her current insulin levels?”

      Harris wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Marion,” he said, turning to his daughter, “why don’t you go in your room to play for a while. Miss Majors and I need to talk.”

      “Do I have to?”

      “She can stay,” Ella added.

      “I think we should be alone to discuss this,” he replied firmly.

      “It’s healthy for Marion to be a part of this discussion. She might have questions of her own.”

      “I don’t think she has any questions.”

      “No? After all, the disease is happening to her.”

      He paused, and she wasn’t blind to his growing annoyance “I don’t want her to be afraid of the disease,” he said with finality.

      “She might already have fears that need listening to.”

      The two adults stared at each other, each recognizing the stubborn strength in the other.

      Harris turned again to his daughter. “Marion, do you want to hear this or do you want to play in your room?” His tone clearly was trying to persuade her to play.

      “I wanna stay,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation, settling farther back into the sofa with a smug gleam in her eye.

      Harris pursed his lips, his eyes flashing his irritation, but conceded.

      It was hardly a victory, thought Ella, since there was no real battle, yet it established her position in the house. She couldn’t possibly stay if he was going to dictate her job. The house may be strange and new, but managing a diabetic child was her field.

      They moved into a lengthy discussion of Marion’s diabetes, during which Ella noticed that, though the child picked at a scab and looked at the ceiling, she was listening intently. Ella had experience with children of all ages who had diabetes. Though they all reacted differently according to their personalities and level of maturity, they had one thing in common. They each wanted to know what was going on in their own bodies, and most of all, they wanted to know how many shots they needed to take each day.

      “Would you like to take a walk and look around before it gets dark?” Harris asked after they were through.

      “When did Marion last have her blood checked?”

      Ella saw Marion tuck her legs in close and her face grow mutinous. Harris’s face visibly paled.

      “I checked it before you arrived,” he replied.

      Ella looked at her watch. “There’s been lots of nervous excitement since then. Let’s give it a look-see before we go out.”

      Harris cast a wary look at his daughter. Ella saw this—and how Marion watched and waited for it. On cue, Marion began to howl like a banshee, kicking and screaming. Harris went toward her, but Ella stuck out her arm, warding him off. She stood abruptly and slammed her hands on her hips.

      “That will be quite enough of that, young lady,” she said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the wails. “I will be testing you four, five, six times a day, and I’ll be giving you your shots, too. Every day. That’s my job and…Marion, listen to me.” She moved quickly to grasp hold of the child’s shoulders and lift her to a sitting position. She held tight, ignoring the pummeling.

      “Marion!” she said louder, in a command.

      Marion sucked in her breath, silent for a second.

      Ella rushed, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m a nurse. I know exactly what to do and I’m good at this. Really, I’ve given lots of shots to hundreds of children.”

      “But it hurts.”

      “It will hurt a little, I know, but not that much if you sit still. And pretty soon, you will get used to it. I promise.”

      Ella spoke quickly, while she had the child’s attention. “I want to show you something. I have a special little tool.” She looked over her shoulder at Harris, who stood with his arms by his side, waiting to assist. “Could you bring my purse over here? Quickly, please.”

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