Mission: Motherhood. Marta Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ she gotten some part of the routine wrong?

      “What is it, sweetie?” She smoothed still-damp hair back from Amanda’s face.

      “Are Mommy and Daddy happy in Heaven?”

      Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been that. A theological question was out of her realm. She wasn’t the person to ask. Chaplain Steve, he’d do a better job of this.

      “Well, I think so. Have you talked to Grammy about it?”

      She nodded. “She says God takes care of them in Heaven, so they must be happy.”

      “Well, Grammy must know,” she said, grateful to have squeaked through that tricky spot.

      “But how can they be?” Tears shone in her eyes. “How can they be happy without us?”

      She was totally out of her depth now, and her throat was so tight she couldn’t have gotten an answer out even if she’d been able to think of one.

      Fortunately her mother was there, coming quickly into the room to bend over the bed. She must have been waiting in the hall, giving Caitlyn a chance to finish the bedtime routine.

      “Of course they miss you, darling.” Mama’s voice was soft. “And that might make them sad sometimes. But they know you’re happy and that we’re taking care of you, so that makes them happy, too. You see?”

      Amanda nodded slowly. Caitlyn suspected the little girl wasn’t entirely satisfied, but at least she wasn’t asking any other questions that Caitlyn couldn’t answer.

      Hugs and kisses all around, and then she and her mother were out in the hall, leaving the door open just a crack. “Not too much chatter, now,” Mama called as they started down the hall. “You had a big day today.”

      “Thanks for coming in when you did, Mama.” She put her arm around her mother’s waist. “I didn’t know how to handle that.”

      Her mother gave her a gentle squeeze. “You’ll learn by experience. That’s the only way anyone ever learns to be a parent.”

      Something in her rebelled at that. She wasn’t a parent, and she didn’t intend to be here long enough to learn. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that, but she closed her lips on the words.

      Her mother looked tired, too tired for the sixty-five Caitlyn knew she was. Grief, she supposed, combined with the stress of caring for two lively five-year-olds for the past six months.

      “Carolyn and Dean shouldn’t have expected you to take over when they were deployed,” she said. “It was too much for you.”

      Mama shrugged. “It’s made me realize I’m not as young as I used to be, that’s for sure. Taking care of two five-year-olds is a Texas-size job. But you do what you have to do. It’s not as if they had any other options.”

      She wanted to say that they should have been responsible enough not to get in that position to begin with, but her mother wouldn’t hear anything critical of Carolyn.

      Well, maybe her mother wouldn’t admit it, but in Caitlyn’s opinion, Carolyn had been too quick to dump her responsibilities on other people.

      “Listen, would it be any use if I hired someone to help out a little? With the girls, or the house, or whatever?”

      Her mother looked surprised. “That’s sweet of you, darling, but I’ll be okay now that you’re here. The two of us can handle things.”

      There it was again—that assumption that she was here to stay.

      “You’re not planning to go away, are you?” Her silence must have lasted too long, and her mother looked so dismayed that she couldn’t possibly do anything but deny it.

      “Not now, but I have a job possibility at Children of the Day. I’m supposed to go for an interview with the director tomorrow. It’s only part-time, but I don’t want to burden you—”

      “Children of the Day? That’s wonderful.” Her mother interrupted her with a hug. “You’ll love it there. I’m so pleased.”

      The hug strengthened. Caitlyn hugged her mother back, but the feel of her mother’s arms was like fragile, yet strong threads tightening around her, trying to bind her to this place.

      “Welcome to Children of the Day. I hope you’ll enjoy your work here.” Anna Terenkov, the founder and director of the charity, rose from behind her desk after the briefest of interviews, extending her hand.

      Caitlyn blinked for a second before she stood to shake the woman’s hand. She’d met executives who prided themselves on quick decisions before, but Ms. Terenkov had them beat by a mile.

      “Ms. Terenkov—”

      “Please, call me Anna.” A smile banished her businesslike expression. “We’re all on a first-name basis here, volunteers and staff alike.”

      “Anna.” She tried to grasp a situation that seemed to be sliding away from her. “Isn’t there anything else you’d like to ask me about my qualifications?”

      The director waved that away. “I’ve seen quite enough to know you’ll be an asset to the organization. And, frankly, we’re in need of a capable person to step into the care coordinator position. That’s one job I don’t want to lay on a volunteer, and our last coordinator had to leave quite suddenly.”

      That sounded ominous. Anna seemed to read her expression and laughed.

      “Nothing bad, I assure you. Her husband was transferred to a post in the Northeast, and naturally she and the children went with him.”

      “He was in the military, I gather.”

      Anna nodded. “Almost everyone in town has some connection to Fort Bonnell, in one way or another. Now—” she rounded the desk “—let me show you our facility and get you started.”

      She hadn’t imagined being hired that quickly, let alone starting, but she followed the petite blond human dynamo out of her office for a whirlwind tour of the building.

      Children of the Day was housed in a gracious slate-blue Victorian on a quiet side street just off Veterans Boulevard, Prairie Springs’s main drag. Sheltered by shrubbery and a white wrought-iron fence, the charming Victorian looked more like an elegant private residence than a nonprofit foundation.

      “As you can see, the first floor is dedicated to the organization.” Anna waved at the volunteer who was seated behind a desk in the welcoming lobby area. “The kitchen downstairs is for the staff and volunteers, so don’t hesitate to use it. My mother and I have our private apartment upstairs.”

      “Is your mother involved with Children of the Day also?”

      Anna smiled. “My mother does a little bit of everything, all with great enthusiasm. You’ll see where I get my energy when you meet her. She also runs the grief center at Prairie Springs Christian Church. I think she mentioned that your nieces are involved in her children’s program.”

      Something else Caitlyn hadn’t known. She’d have to ask her mother about that. СКАЧАТЬ