Valerie Hansen - Blessings of The Heart

“I hate mush mellows,” Ryan said.

“Not mush. Marshmallows.”

Crossing to the table, she dropped several of the small, rounded balls of candy fluff onto the napkins with the boys’ cookies. “There you go. That’s what they look like. You can eat them just like that. When they’re floating in hot cocoa they melt and get really good and gooey.”

The children were still sitting there, pouting and staring at the napkins, when Bree set their mugs on the table. “Okay. Here’s your drink. It’s hot. Sip it slowly so you don’t burn yourselves. And be careful not to get melted marshmallow stuck to the end of your nose. That always happens to me.”

She sipped at the contents of her mug with theatrical relish, then licked her lips and set the drink aside.

“I’m going to go start the washing machine so you can have your regular clothes back,” she said. “I won’t be gone long.”

Eyeing Ryan’s defiant expression, she decided it would be prudent to add, “If you move off those chairs or do anything except eat and drink while I’m out of the kitchen, I’ll have to put you back in with your daddy like he said. Got that?”

Neither boy spoke, but Bree was certain they both understood. Headstrong Ryan was giving her a dirty look, and Bud was clutching his teddy bear so tightly it was leaving a damp spot on the front of his T-shirt.

As soon as Mitch was alone he wasted no time stripping and jumping into the shower. Thanks to the raging storm, the kids had only picked up a few ticks on their trek up the hill, but as far as he was concerned, one was too many. No doubt the boys would be itching like crazy by tomorrow. The power of suggestion was already doing a number on him.

He soaped and scrubbed from head to foot. If he couldn’t dig his car out of the mud in the morning he’d borrow transportation and run into town to buy something to kill whatever bugs had taken up residence in Barney’s thick coat—and in the cabin. Until then, he’d see that the little dog stayed confined to this one room of his hostess’s home to avoid contaminating it, too.

Mitch was chuckling when he stepped out of the shower and began to towel himself dry.

Panting, the little dog looked at him with shining ebony eyes and cocked its head.

“Yes, I was thinking about you,” Mitch said. That was all the attention it took for the pup to begin wagging its tail so hard its whole rear end wiggled with delight. “You, and the lady who owns this place. I’ll bet she’d have a fit if she knew we’d probably brought bugs into her fancy house.”

Barney whirled in tight circles at Mitch’s feet.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re so adorable you can get away with just about anything. Like those kids of mine. I hate to have to start out by being tough with them but I know they need discipline. Desperately.”

The little dog’s antics heightened to include a frenzied dash around the room. Mitch said, “Whoa. Come here.” He held out his hand, and the dog skidded to a stop and looked at him with clear devotion.

He bent to pet it. Barney threw himself on the floor at the man’s feet and rolled onto his back in complete surrender.

Mitch laughed as he scratched the dog’s exposed belly. “Now that’s the kind of love and respect I want from my boys. I wish they were as easy to win over as you are, little guy.”

Barney licked his hand.

“Yeah, all I have to do is figure out a way to show them how much I care, prove how much I’ve missed them, and make them behave—all at the same time.” He snorted in derision. “The way things have been going, I figure that shouldn’t take more than twenty or thirty years.”

When Bree returned, the cookies and cocoa were gone and Bud was sporting a sticky chocolate mustache. She could tell the children were fighting sleep.

“Okay, guys. Time for bed,” she said. “Use your napkins to wipe off your faces and hands, and let’s go upstairs.” Thankfully, there was no suggestion of rebellion this time.

Ryan made the choice of sleeping arrangements for himself and his brother. “We don’t need separate beds. We’re used to sleepin’ together,” he said matter-of-factly. “He’d get scared if he woke up and I wasn’t there. You know how it is.”

Brianne smiled. “Actually, I don’t. I never had any brothers or sisters.”

“Who’d you play with?” The eight-year-old looked astounded. Mimicking her motions, he turned down one edge of the embroidered coverlet while Bree did the same on the opposite side of the double bed.

“I had a few friends I used to hang out with,” she said. “We’d jump rope or swim or maybe go shopping together.”

“Girl stuff. Didn’t you ever wrestle or play ball on a team or nothin’?”

“Afraid not. My father tried to teach me to play baseball like a boy, but I never managed to please him.”

“Bet you didn’t even have a dog, huh?”

“No. My father didn’t like animals very much, either.” She grew pensive. “There was a stray cat I made friends with once. It was gray, with white paws and a white star on its chest. By being very patient, I finally managed to get it to trust me enough to take food out of my hand.”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know. It disappeared.”

“Probably died,” he said sagely. Pausing, he lowered his voice and added, “So did our mother.”

“I know. Your father told me. I’m sorry.”

The boy opened his mouth as if to speak, then quickly shut it and looked away.

Brianne helped Bud climb into bed. She stood aside so Ryan could join him before she carefully pulled the sheet over them both. Bud curled into a ball around his teddy bear, his eyes tightly shut. Ryan looked at her.

She tenderly stroked his damp hair off his forehead. “If you ever decide you want to talk about your mother, I’ll be glad to listen.”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about. She’s dead. That’s all there is to it.”

Bree could see his lower lip quivering in spite of his tough-guy affectation. Of course he was hurting. He was a little boy who’d spent the past few years of his short life mostly with his mother. And now she was gone. Forever. There must be some way to comfort him.

“Maybe you’ll see your mother in heaven some day,” she offered. To her chagrin, Ryan’s eyes began to fill with tears.

“That stuff’s for suckers,” he said, swallowing a sob.

Perched on the edge of the bed, Brianne took his small hand and gazed at him. No matter how lost, how far from God she’d felt since her mother’s death, she knew she should try to give the child some semblance of hope. “Oh, honey, Jesus said heaven was real. Who told you it wasn’t?”

“My mama.”

“How about your daddy? What does he think?”

Ryan shook his head. “Mama said he was stupid ’cause he believed all that ch-church stuff.”

“I see.”

Brianne’s vision misted with tears of empathy, of sympathy, for everyone involved. She wished mightily for the words to reassure the grieving child but found none. There was no way to go back and change things for Ryan and his brother, any more than she could change the painful facts of her mother’s demise, no matter how much she wanted to. All she could do at this point was continue to offer honest compassion and hope for the best.

She leaned down to kiss his cheek, then stood. “Go to sleep, honey. You’ve had a rough night. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

The child sniffled and nodded.

“Good. Sleep tight.”

Fleeing the room, Bree barely made it to the hallway before tears spilled out to trickle down her cheeks. She leaned against the wall and dashed them away.

“Those poor children. What can I do? How can I help them?”