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Yet the thought of handing these children over to his father turned his stomach. The old man ruled through fear, not love. Joy and fun weren’t in his vocabulary. Josh and Emily would have 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.
The first bite of his burger was wonderful, and he closed his eyes as he chewed, enjoying the flavor. At least, he was enjoying it until he opened his eyes and found Josh and Emily staring at him with solemn faces, their food untouched.
He stopped chewing. “What’s wrong?”
“We didn’t say grace yet,” Emily said.
Trying not to choke, Clay swallowed his mouthful of burger with a gulp and wiped a paper napkin across his lips. He hadn’t said a prayer before meals since he’d left home at age seventeen. Racking his brain, he searched for the stale words his father used to say, but they eluded him.
Emily studied him. “Do you want me to say it?”
“Good idea,” he endorsed with relief.
She reached for Josh’s hand, then for his. Josh inched his other hand across the table, and Clay took it. Their small hands were swallowed in his much larger grasp.
Emily and Josh bowed their heads as Emily spoke. “Lord, thank you for this food we eat, and keep us safe until we meet. Amen.”
“Amen,” Clay echoed after they gave him an expectant look.
As the children began eating, devouring every last morsel, Clay realized how hungry they’d been. And how dependent they were on him. For everything. Food. Shelter. Security. Love. Like it or not, he’d inherited a family. Unless he sent them to live with his father.
That was still an option. But not a good one.
Meaning his life was about to change dramatically.
And all at once he wasn’t hungry any more.
“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.
She was about to hear bad news.
Cate Shepard knew it the minute she walked in the back door of the Dugan home and found both Brenna and Steve waiting for her. In the two years she’d provided in-home child care for their son they’d become good friends, and she’d learned to read their moods.
“Good morning.” She closed the door and summoned up a smile, steeling herself. “Why do I think this isn’t my lucky day?”
Brenna sent a quick look to Steve, who cleared his throat and rose.
“It’s one of those good news, bad news scenarios, Cate. I’ve been offered a great position with a new company in Chicago. Starting in two weeks. The bad news is we’ll have to leave behind the best child care provider we’ll ever hope to find.”
She was out of a job.
Cate managed to keep her smile in place. This had happened before; it would happen again. She’d manage, as she always did.
“I’m happy for you, Steve. But I’ll miss all of you.”
“We feel the same way about you, Cate.” Brenna stood and came forward to give her a hug. “You know we’ll give you a stellar recommendation.”
“Thank you.” Cate gave her a squeeze, then stepped back. “Now tell me about the new opportunity.”
She listened as the young couple explained Steve’s new position, commiserated with Brenna about her angst over finding a new job, and took care of Timmy for the rest of the day when the couple went to work.
Only later, as she drove through the streets of Washington to her condo—with a quick detour for a fudgesicle at a convenience store—did she let herself think about the future.
She always hated her jobs to end. In ten years of providing on-site child care, she’d been lucky to go through this only three times. Now she had to start the process over again. And while she’d never had trouble connecting with a family in need of her services, she usually had far more notice than this to find a new position.
Pulling into the parking place near her condo, she picked up the fudgesicle. It was already softening in the unseasonable warmth of this early March Missouri day, she noted, walking to her front door as fast as her slightly uneven gait allowed.
Once inside, she headed for the kitchen and unwrapped the treat. Leaning over the sink while she ate, she savored the fleeting sweetness as the rich chocolate melted on her tongue. And recalled, as she always did, the day she’d indulged in one after receiving the letter that had offered her a bright and shining future.
