Apprentice Father. Irene Hannon

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      “Don’t make any noise, Josh.”

      The childish, high-pitched whisper penetrated Clay’s light sleep, and he squinted at the illuminated dial of his watch. Four-fifteen. If he didn’t get some rest soon, he’d be a zombie in the morning. But the uncomfortable couch that had become his bed since Emily and Josh had claimed his room three nights ago wasn’t helping, either.

      An odd sound came from the bedroom, and he frowned. What was going on in there?

      Swinging his legs to the floor, Clay padded toward the bedroom door, his bare feet noiseless on the carpet. As he eased it open, two heads pivoted toward him and Josh and Emily froze, like startled deer caught in headlights.

      The seconds ticked by as Clay tried to make sense of the scene. The two children stood at the far corner of the bed. Emily had taken the blankets off and piled them on the floor. Now she was trying to take the sheets off as well.

      “What’s going on?” Clay scanned the room again, bewildered.

      Josh moved closer to Emily, and she placed a shielding arm around his shoulders. “Josh h-had an accident.”

      Shifting his attention to the frightened little boy, Clay gave him a rapid inspection. In his definition, “accidents” entailed injury and blood. But Josh didn’t appear to be hurt. However, his pajama bottoms did look funny. They were clinging to him. Like they were wet.

      All at once, Clay understood.

      “It happens s-sometimes at night, if he’s afraid.” A tremor ran through Emily’s voice. “I can clean it up. You don’t have t-to be mad.”

      Clay took a step into the room—but came to an abrupt halt when Josh cowered behind Emily with a whimper.

      They were scared. Really scared, he realized with a jolt. Anne had said that Martin had never hurt them, but now he wasn’t sure that was true. Softening his tone, he moved slowly into the room. “Accidents happen. It’s okay. Emily, why don’t you help Josh change into dry pajamas while I put new sheets on the bed?”

      She took her brother’s hand and tugged. “Come on, Josh.”

      The little boy followed, skirting him warily.

      After scrubbing and blow-drying the mattress, remaking the bed and tucking a folded towel under the fitted sheet on Josh’s side, Clay beckoned the children. “Okay. Good as new. Climb in.”

      Emily got in first, then pulled Josh up beside her. She pressed him down on the pillow and lay next to him, taking his hand. Clay tucked the blanket under their chins and sat on the edge of the bed.

      “I know everything is new, and that you miss your mommy. But I’ll take care of you. You don’t need to be scared.”

      “How come you didn’t get mad at Josh?” Emily searched his face.

      “He didn’t do it on purpose.”

      “I know. But Daddy always got mad.”

      With an effort, Clay kept his expression neutral and tried for a measured tone. “What did he do when he got mad?”

      “He yelled at Josh. And at Mommy.”

      “Did he spank Josh?”

      “No. But I think…I think he hit Mommy. He said it was her fault we had accidents. I spilled a glass of milk once, and Daddy yelled at Mommy. She had big bruises on her arm the next day.” Emily’s features contorted with misery. “We didn’t m-mean to hurt Mommy.” The last word caught on a sob. “We tried t-to be good.”

      Clay felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. With an unsteady hand he brushed the hair back from his niece’s forehead. It was soft and fine and gossamer.

      “It wasn’t your fault that your mommy got hurt, Emily. Or Josh’s. Your daddy shouldn’t have yelled at you about accidents, and he shouldn’t have hurt your mommy. That was a wrong thing to do.”

      “I wish M-Mommy was here now.”

      “So do I.” More than Emily would ever know, he reflected. “But she would want you to be brave. Will you try to do that?”

      Emily gave a tearful nod and looked at Josh, who had fallen asleep again, cuddled up beside her. “Josh is kind of little to be brave, though.”

      Clay swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Then we’ll have to help him.”

      “Okay.” Emily snuggled next to Josh, and her eyelids drifted closed.

      For several more minutes Clay sat there. Once their even breathing told him they were asleep he rose and headed toward the door, pausing on the threshold. The two youngsters were lost in the queen-sized bed, their bodies an almost indiscernible bump beneath the blanket. They seemed so tiny. So forlorn. So defenseless. And they were relying on him to see to all of their needs.

      Their physical needs, Clay could handle. Food, clothing and shelter weren’t hard to provide.

      But when it came to matters of the heart, he was in way over his head.