Apprentice Father. Irene Hannon

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СКАЧАТЬ a dismal life with him. That was the last thing Anne would have wanted for them.

      So what was he supposed to do?

      “As we take our sister, Anne, to her final resting place, let us find some comfort in knowing she is at peace and with God.” Reverend Phelps’s closing remarks echoed in the church, and Clay tried to focus on his words. “And let us recall how she always tried to do the right thing. That’s a challenge we all face. Because the right thing may not always be the easiest thing. It may not be what we want to do. It may take great courage. But Anne gave us a shining example of courage and selfless love. Let that be her legacy to us, one that we all strive to follow.”

      Twin furrows dented Clay’s brow. He’d seen too many people fail at relationships—with parents, with spouses, with children. Enough to convince him he never wanted a family. But if what the minister said was true, he had one now. For how could he send these children to his father’s home, where their life would be little better than before?

      All at once Clay found it difficult to breathe. Reaching up, he tugged at his suddenly too-tight tie. He’d had this feeling of being trapped, of the walls closing in on him, twice before in his life. Once, as a kid, living under his father’s roof. And again, during Army training, when he’d been locked into a small, dark room for several days during a POW simulation. In both cases, he’d survived for one simple reason: he’d known he would get out.

      But there was no escape from this situation. Not if he did the right thing.

      Clay knew about duty from his years in the military. Knew about it, too, from years of living in his father’s house, where the phrase “doing your Christian duty” had been drummed into him. The minister had confirmed that obligation. There was no doubt in Clay’s mind about what he should do.

      But he wasn’t sure he was up to the task.

      Frustrated, Clay raked his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know a thing about little kids. If Anne had listened to him and left her husband instead of letting their father shame her into staying in that mockery of a marriage, he wouldn’t be in this predicament.

      Giving him yet another reason to resent his old man.

      As the pallbearers began to roll the coffin out, Clay moved into the aisle behind it. Emily and Josh remained in the pew, watching him with big eyes. He motioned for them to follow, and Emily nudged Josh. But the little boy shook his head and burrowed closer to Emily.

      Stepping back into the pew, Clay crouched beside the children. “It’s time to go,” he murmured.

      “Josh is ’fraid,” Emily whispered.

      A lump rose in this throat. “Neither of you need to be afraid anymore. I’m going to take care of you. How about I carry you, Josh? That way, you can see the pretty windows in the back.”

      Clay held out his arms and, with a nudge from Emily, Josh edged toward him. Swinging him up, Clay was startled by how little the boy weighed—and reminded yet again of the children’s vulnerability…and the terrifying responsibility he’d inherited.

      As the procession moved down the aisle, a tentative touch on his hand drew his attention and he looked down. Emily was watching him, her expression uncertain, as if to ask: Is this okay? In response, he pasted on a smile and folded her small, cold hand in his with a gentle squeeze.

      The tremulous little puff of air she released, the sudden relaxing of her features, almost undid him. Clay knew Anne had tried her very best to shelter her children and create a real home. But in the few days he’d been in Nebraska, he’d discovered her best hadn’t been good enough. The children had seen too much. Heard too much. Their eyes told the story. Fearful, anxious, uncertain, haunted—they were old beyond their years. Especially Emily’s. The damage was clear. And he was afraid it would take a miracle to undo it.

      Clay didn’t much believe in miracles…except the kind people made for themselves through hard work and perseverance. In this case, however, he wasn’t sure any amount of work on his part would give these children back their childhood. Yet they were in desperate need of help.

      Since he doubted he’d darken a church door again any time soon, Clay figured he should use this opportunity to seek help from a higher source. Not that he expected much. But what did he have to lose?

      God, I don’t know why any of this happened. And I don’t know if You care. But if You do, please take pity on these children. They need more than I can give. I’ll do my best, but I’m not equipped to handle kids. If You’re listening, help me find a way to heal these children. Not for my sake. But for theirs. And Anne’s.

      Clay saw the familiar arches in the distance, a short drive off the interstate, and cast an uneasy glance into the rearview mirror as he pulled into the exit lane. Josh was dozing in the back seat, and Emily was staring out the window. Since leaving Omaha four hours ago after the funeral, she hadn’t said more than ten words. And the eerie silence was beginning to unnerve him. Weren’t kids supposed to be noisy and restless on long car trips? Weren’t they supposed to chatter and ask how much longer and want a drink of water and need to use the bathroom every ten miles?

      These two, however, hadn’t made one request or asked a single question during the entire trip. But they must be hungry by now. He sure was.

      “How about some hamburgers and French fries?” Clay tossed the question over his shoulder as he started up the exit ramp.

      No response.

      He checked the rearview mirror again. Emily’s somber gaze met his.

      “Are you hungry?” He gentled his tone.

      She gave a slow nod.

      “Do you like hamburgers and French fries?”

      Again, an affirmative response. “Josh does, too.”

      “How about a milkshake to go with them?”

      Her face lit up a little and she gave her brother a gentle prod. “Josh. Wake up. We’re going to have milkshakes.” It was the first touch of life Clay had heard in her voice.

      A parking spot near the front door of the fast-food outlet opened up, and Clay pulled in. By the time he climbed out of the pickup truck, Emily had unbuckled her car seat and was working on Josh’s, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

      “Do you need some help?” Clay offered.

      “No, thank you. I can do it.”

      Five minutes later, after he’d settled them in a booth, Clay headed for the counter to place his order, keeping them in sight. But he didn’t have to worry. Unlike the other children in the place, who were crying, shouting, throwing food or running around, Josh and Emily sat in silence waiting for him. While Clay wasn’t anxious for them to emulate their peers, he was struck again by the need to restore some semblance of childhood to their lives. Some laughter and spontaneity and just plain silliness.

      In light of all that had transpired, however, that seemed like a monumental task.

      “Here’s your change, sir.”

      Clay swiveled toward the counter and pocketed the money. “Thanks.” Juggling the tray, he wove his way toward the booth, slid in opposite the children and quickly dispensed the food.

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