Marta Perry - Mission - Motherhood

Amanda considered that for a moment, and then she nodded. “But you do ’zactly like I say.”

It was a small triumph, but she’d take it. As she shampooed and rinsed, carefully following directions, her thoughts drifted back to the afternoon. Odd, running into Steve Windham like that.

His idea of humor had been more than a little annoying. On the other hand, his concern for the girls had been obvious. And she’d taken note of the way he’d so easily averted Amanda’s tantrum by focusing her on the future instead. She’d remember that technique for the next time Amanda rebelled. And there probably would be a next time. Amanda, like her mother, seemed born to test the boundaries.

Maybe Steve had kids of his own. The thought startled her. It was certainly possible, although he hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring. And exactly why she’d taken note of that, she wasn’t sure.

With one little girl shampooed and one to go, she turned her attention to Josie, who submitted without argument to her shampoo. In a few minutes she was wrapping two wiggling bodies in one large towel.

“Oh my goodness, I’ve got an armful of eels,” she declared, rubbing wet curls. “That’s what Grammy used to say when she dried us.”

“She says that to us, too,” Amanda said. “Now pajamas, and then we’ll tell you just what you hafta do to put us to bed.”

She nodded, spraying Josie’s shoulder-length hair with conditioner before attempting to get a comb through it. This was her first attempt at getting the girls to bed on her own, and she needed all the help she could get.

Finally they were into pajamas and snuggled one on each side of her in their pink-and-white bedroom for a story. She held them close, a little surprised by the strength of affection that swept through her.

If anyone had asked, a few weeks ago, if she loved her nieces, she’d have said yes, but it would have been an abstract emotion. She’d loved them but she hadn’t known them. Now all that was changed.

“‘The Princess and the Pea,’” she read. “I remember this story. Let’s see if it’s changed any since I was a little girl.”

Amanda giggled. “Stories don’t change, Auntie Caitlyn. We read one book and then one Bible story from our Bible Storybook that you gave us for Christmas, and then we say prayers.”

She opened her mouth to say she hadn’t given them a storybook for Christmas, and then shut it again. She’d taken the easy way out and sent a check, and someone, probably Carolyn, had taken the time to buy and wrap presents and put her name on them.

Amanda’s innocent assumption made her feel—well, thoughtless, at the least. Surely she could have taken the time to find out what they wanted and buy the gifts on her own.

That faint uneasiness lingered through the stories and prayers. Caitlyn tucked matching pink quilts around them and kissed their rosy cheeks.

“Auntie Caitlyn?” Amanda was frowning. Had 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.”