Marta Perry - Mission - Motherhood

The hair that had once been flaxen was now a rich golden brown, tousled in a way that he suspected was style, not nature. Her eyes hadn’t changed, though. They were a warm hazel with glints of gold when the sun caught them.

Well, the important thing wasn’t how she looked, although she was certainly worth a second glance from any man. What was crucial was whether she could take care of those children.

She’d probably used that single-minded determination of hers that he remembered to take the big city by storm. From what he could see, apparently she’d made it, despite all the obstacles there must have been for a little girl from Texas with no family backing or money.

But now she was faced with even harder barriers in learning how to be a mother to two precious children. Did she have that in her? He didn’t know.

His thoughts automatically went inward in prayer. Lord, You know what You have in mind for Amanda and Josie, and for their aunt. If there’s a way in which I can help, please use me.

When he looked again, the door was opening and Caitlyn and the twins were coming out.

Amanda spotted him first and let out a squeal. She came running toward him, waving a welcome, with Josie scurrying behind.

He bent to hug them, holding them away from his paint stains and grinning at their enthusiastic greeting. “Hey, you two. Y’all been having some fun in the kindergarten room with Miss Sarah?”

“I made a picture and printed my name,” Amanda said importantly. “And I said my numbers, too.”

“How about you, sugar?” He tugged gently at a strand of Josie’s hair. Josie always had to be coaxed a little. “Did you print your name, too?”

She nodded. “I printed Josie,” she said. “Not Josephine.”

“Girls.” Caitlyn had reached them by now, and she clearly didn’t know what to make of this. “What are you doing?”

He smiled at her. “The twins and I are old friends.” He caught Amanda’s hand as she reached for the paint can. “That’s wet, Amanda.”

Amanda pouted for a fraction of a second before turning to her aunt. “We love Chaplain Steve,” she said. “He’s our friend.”

“Chaplain Steve?” Caitlyn’s voice accented the title, and annoyance danced in her eyes. “Are you really a minister?”

He shrugged. “Guilty.”

“You knew I thought you were a painter.” Her lips tightened.

Obviously Caitlyn didn’t like being fooled. “Sorry.” Truth to tell, he felt a little embarrassed that he hadn’t been up front with her. “I did know what you were thinking, but you looked so disapproving I couldn’t resist teasing you just a mite.”

Faint color came up on her cheeks. “I wasn’t disapproving. It’s nothing to me what you do.”

“Come on, now,” he said. “Tell me you weren’t thinking that I’d failed to live up to my potential, like Mrs. Clemente used to say in trigonometry class.”

Josie tugged at his sleeve. “What does potential mean?” She said the word carefully.

“It means doing everything that you’re able to do,” Steve answered.

“Oh.” She seemed to be storing the definition away for possible future use.

“As I recall, your father was a chaplain, wasn’t he?” Caitlyn had herself in hand now, and she asked the question with just the right degree of polite interest.

“That’s right. I guess I could have been assigned most anyplace, but I requested Fort Bonnell, and here I am. I’ve taken over the Fort Bonnell Christian Chapel, but I had to redecorate, since Daddy took all his fishing pictures with him when he and Mama retired to Wyoming.”

“And you know the twins how?” Her voice expressed doubt.

“They’re part of my job, as it happens, ministering to those of our Fort Bonnell community who’ve suffered losses.”

He managed to keep his mind from straying to his own loss. “Not that these two adorable ladies aren’t more than just a job to me.”

“I see.” Her face had stiffened at the reminder of Carolyn and Dean, and he felt a pang of remorse for teasing her as he had. This couldn’t be easy for her.

“I’m sorry for your loss. It must be rough.”

“Yes.” She clipped off the word, as if reluctant to accept sympathy. “Well…” She managed a smile and extended her hand. “It was nice to see you again, Steve.”

He took her hand solemnly, a little amused. “Same here. But it’s a small town, Caitlyn. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

Her smile was stiff. “Come on, girls. It’s time to go home.”

“Don’t want to.” Amanda pouted, looking dangerously near to stamping her feet. “I want to stay with Chaplain Steve.”

“We have to go.” Caitlyn held out her hand.

“No.” Now Amanda did stamp her foot. “I don’t want to.”

Josie took a step closer to him, clearly not knowing what to do at this open mutiny, any more than her aunt did. Caitlyn’s expression said only too clearly that she wasn’t prepared to cope with this.

He knelt next to Amanda, putting one arm reassuringly around Josie. “I’m afraid you can’t stay with me, Amanda, because I have to go to a meeting. And I’ll bet your grandmother is waiting to hear all about how you did at school, don’t you think?”

Amanda pouted a moment longer, as if reluctant to give up her grudge. Then she spun around, holding her picture up. “I’m going to show Grammy my painting. She’ll put it on the refrigerator.”

“Mine, too,” Josie said. “Mine, too.”

“She’ll put mine up first,” Amanda said, and darted toward the car.

“Mine, mine,” Josie shrieked, and ran after her sister.

Caitlyn seemed frozen to the spot for another instant. Then she hurried after them without a backward glance for him.

Steve watched them go, frowning a little. Those children were hurting, and he hurt for them. They needed so much. Was Caitlyn going to be able to provide that?

Or had Carolyn Mayhew made the mistake of her life when she named her sister as their guardian?

Caitlyn knelt beside the bathtub, wondering how two five-year-olds in a tub could so resemble a pondful of frogs.

Amanda bounced up and down on her bottom, sending a wave of soapy water sloshing toward her sister. Josie’s squeal echoed from the tile tub surround, and she scrambled backward.

“Easy, Amanda.” She caught each twin by a slippery arm. “Don’t fall back against the spigot. That would hurt your head.”

“I won’t.” Amanda bounced again. This time the water splashed Caitlyn’s sleeve to her shoulder.

“Hey!” Smiling in spite of herself, she splashed Amanda back. “No fair. I’m still dressed, not like you.” She tickled a bare dimpled elbow, eliciting a giggle from Amanda.

“I love my bath.” That might be the first thing Josie had volunteered since Caitlyn had been here. Usually she waited for a question before speaking, or echoed what her twin had said.

“What do you like about it?” Caitlyn put a plastic doll into a red boat and zoomed it toward her small, shy niece.

Josie managed a hint of a smile. “Giving my dolls ’ventures. They like that.”

“Good idea.” She let Josie have the boat. “You give your doll an adventure with the boat, while I wash Amanda’s hair.”

Josie nodded, smiling, but Amanda’s face puckered up at the suggestion. What now? Was it ever possible to get both of them happy at the same time?

“I don’t want my hair washed.” Amanda pouted. “You’ll get soap in my eyes.”

“No, I won’t.” Although now that she considered it, she wasn’t sure how you managed to shampoo a wiggly child without disaster. “Tell you what. You show me how Grammy does it, and I’ll do exactly what you say. You be the director, okay?”