Mother of Prevention

by Lori Copeland

  Mazi exclaimed in delight over the Christmas tree. “I never put one up. Warren is usually gone over the holidays and it seems a waste of time to decorate just for me.”

  “You can share ours,” I assured her.

  After stuffing ourselves on chips, dip and more junk food, we settled down in the living room, where the girls insisted on singing Christmas carols. Mazi didn’t know some of the words, but she joined in the best she could. She had a lovely soprano.

  We were just sitting and talking when Kelli and Kris brought in the crèche. I caught my breath. Not tonight. I couldn’t. But one look at their faces and I knew I had to. They placed the figurines on the floor by a table already arranged next to the front window. Kris brought me her father’s Bible.

  “Read the story.”

  I swallowed and turned to the second chapter of Luke.

  “‘And it came to pass in those days that there went out from Caesar Augustus a decree that all the world should be taxed.’”

  The familiar words stuck in my throat, but I ploughed on. The girls placed the figures in the proper place at the proper time until I finished reading and let my hands rest on the open Bible. Neil’s baritone echoed in my mind. Good girl, Kate. I knew you could do it.

  Subtle warmth filled my heart. It was almost as if he was there with me. Almost.

  Mazi smiled. “That was beautiful, Kate. I’ve never heard the Christmas story read like that.”

  Kris knelt beside my chair. “Dad would be pleased, wouldn’t he?”

  Kelli dropped down on my other side. I rested my hands on their heads. “He would have been very pleased.”

  The girls’ new school was half a mile away, nestled in a wooded lot. We drove there one afternoon and I let them spend a few moments out of the car getting acquainted with their new surroundings. The low brick building looked like a nice place to spend a school term.

  Then I tackled the interviews—women to take care of Kelli and Kris after school. My new job would require me to work some late nights and Saturdays.

  Four people had made appointments for the job, and I was nervous. We had never left the girls with anyone except Helen Murphy and I was worried about leaving them with a stranger. The first applicant arrived in a bright yellow Volkswagen with all four wheels painted to look like daisies.

  A young woman looking to be in her late twenties got out and strode toward the door. I lifted the window shutter and peeked out, standing back where she couldn’t see me, and I almost decided not to open the door. She was tall, dressed in orange-and-green-striped stockings, clunky shoes and a black skirt cut thigh-high. Her skimpy attire barely covered the essentials.

  My gaze focused on the yellow sweater and long lavender scarf wrapped around her throat and draped over her shoulders like Tiny Tim’s muffler in Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. It seemed hardly appropriate “work dress”—at least in Oklahoma. But then, I was in California now.

  The doorbell rang and I answered, tempted to tell her I gave at the office. Up close I had a very good look at her short spiked blond hair, the blue eye shadow, the magenta lips. Leave my girls with this…this…whatever she was? I didn’t think so.

  She chomped gum. “Hi. I’m Tina. I’m here about the, you know, the job.”

  “Ah, yes. Come right in.” I indicated the chair I had placed where the light would shine the brightest. A trick I had learned from reading mystery novels. “Now, Tina, what do you have in the way of references?”

  She blinked. “You mean like…credentials?”

  “Not exactly. I mean like previous work history. You know—people you’ve worked for before? Have you ever taken care of children before?”

  Kelli already wanted a nose ring. What would she want after being around Tina a week?

  She shook her head, her eyes glazed. “No. I’ve never done that. But I know I’d be good at it.”

  “Are you employed now?”

  “No. I’m an actress.”

  “Oh.” I paused. “Aren’t you a long way from Hollywood?”

  She leaned forward. “See, that’s part of my strategy. Everyone goes to Hollywood. I’m going to be discovered here in San Francisco.”

  “Discovered doing what?” I asked, totally confused.

  She looked at me as if I was abysmally stupid. “You always read about the big stars being discovered waiting tables or something. Well, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to be discovered.”

  “Ah.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say next. I was all for free spirits, just not taking care of my daughters. I stood up. “Well, Tina, I have a few more applicants to interview. We’ll be in touch.”

  “Sure. Could you let me know by, say, around four o’clock? I have a shot at a waitress job at Fisherman’s Wharf. I only came because I’d already asked you for an interview.”

  “I think your chances of being discovered would be better there.”

  She nodded. “Just what I was thinking. Well, I’ll be going. Thanks for your time.”

  I watched her clunk back to her car. She had come to be interviewed for a job she didn’t really want because I had agreed to see her.

  Maybe there was more to her than wild makeup and weird clothing.

  The second applicant arrived thirty minutes later. Eloise Ferguson. This one looked much more normal—short, dumpy, graying hair curling around her face, and a sweet, benign expression.

  Lavender and lace and tea cozies.

  I expelled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. After Tina, this one was a touch of sanity.

  I opened the door and ushered her in. “Mrs. Ferguson?”

  “Yes. Mrs. Madison? I have an appointment.” Her voice was soft and high, reminiscent of a chirping canary.

  I indicated a chair. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” I was so eager for her to like me I’d have baked cookies if she had requested them.

  “Oh, no, dear. We’ll only be here a moment.”

  I felt my brows rise. “We?”

  “Oh, yes.” She glanced to her left and smiled, her eyes aimed slightly above her eye level. Just at the height where someone would be…if someone were there…. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. She nodded. “Homer doesn’t care for coffee.”

  “Homer?” My gaze slowly—and I hope discreetly—searched the room. There was no Homer.

  She glanced to her left again, smiling, and I found myself staring at that spot beside her. I jerked my eyes back to hers. She simpered. “He has a very delicate stomach, and coffee is too strong for his taste. Not that he’s finicky, though.”

  My mouth snapped shut.

  Her eyes roamed the room with a pleased expression, lingering in approval on the crèche. She looked at her invisible companion, eyebrows raised. “You think it will be all right, dear?”

  She nodded, glancing in my direction. “Homer likes your house,” she informed me. “We’ll be very happy here.”

  I offered a faint smile as my mind slid over the possibilities of sharing my home with an invisible man. I could think of plenty of scenarios where that might be a trifle embarrassing.

  “Who’s Homer?” I asked in only a barely perceptible, quivering voice.

  She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes…at Homer, I guess. She sure wasn’t looking at me. “Why, my husband, of course.”

  “Oh, of course.” I swallowed. “Uh…does he go everywhere with you?”

  “Oh, my, yes.” Her china-blue eyes grew wide and childlike. “I wouldn’t think of leaving him at home.” She lightly touched her temple. “He…he tends to be forgetful.” She smiled.

  “Really…I had an uncle once who forgot to turn off the stove. That can be dangerous.”

  I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Ferguson. I fear I have brought you all the way over here, and the position has been filled.”

  The sweetness slipped from her expression. A hint of disapproval tinged her voice. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “Well, yes
, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.” I decided that didn’t sound very sympathetic or respectful. “I mean, I’m awfully sorry.”

  I got to my feet, wondering what I would do if she refused to leave. To my relief she stood up, too.

  Her expression was stony. “Come along, Homer. The position has been filled.” She crooked her elbow and I glanced involuntarily to her left, half expecting to see Homer materialize.

  Eloise swept out, head high, looking more royal than the queen. I shut the door behind her and leaned against it, surprised to find I wasn’t even trembling. Evidently my troubles were coming so thick and fast I no longer had time to be afraid.

  The third applicant was a large woman with iron-gray hair twisted in a bun. She approached my front door with all the dignity and bearing of a battleship. I opened the door, wondering what to expect this time.

  She looked me up and down as if she wasn’t sure what species I belonged to. “Mrs. Madison? Letha Harrod. I have an appointment with you and I believe I am one minute early.”

  “Oh, no p-problem,” I stammered. “Please. Come in.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You’re sure? I am one minute early, and I can assure you I am always accurate.”

  And never wrong. The words flitted through my mind, and for one horrible instant I thought I had spoken them out loud, judging from her expression. Then I realized she was looking past me.

  “What is that?”

  “A s-sailor,” I stammered. “I mean…no! A dog. A puli. His name is Sailor.”

  “He’ll have to go.”

  “Go?” I stared at her wondering where I had missed a turn in this conversation. “Go where?”

  She drew herself into a formidable fort. “I will not work in a house where there is a dog. Miserable, dirty creatures.”

  Sailor took one look at her and backed away, whimpering.

  I dredged up the last remnants of my courage. “I’m sorry. My daughters adore Sailor. He stays.”

  But yes, he could be a dirty little foul-smelling creature—at times.

  “Then obviously I would not find you a suitable employer. The interview is over.”

  She stepped off the porch and surged down the street like the Queen Mary in full steam. I watched her go and then headed back inside, totally overwhelmed.

  Lord, all I want is someone reliable and normal…to stay with my children. Is that too much to ask? Please help me out here.

  I barely had time to consider that I still wasn’t asking anything of Him.

  Thirty minutes later, a young woman, looking to be in her early twenties, dressed in jeans and a blue sweatshirt, came up the walk. She wore her long brown hair straight, shiny and clean. I quickly tallied her attributes in my mind. Her expression was open and friendly.

  I almost hugged her.

  “Mrs. Madison? I’m Alissa Devon.” The young woman paused on the steps. “I called about the baby-sitting job?”

  “Please, come in.” I glanced past her to see a late-model Chevy parked at my curb and drew a sigh of relief.

  Well, God, maybe our relationship is beginning to thaw.

  Inside, Alissa smiled. “You will want references.”

  “References?” I held my breath. “You do have them?”

  She reached into her purse. “I’m a college student, working on my thesis in child care. I don’t have any previous employers, but I have references from my school professors. Names and phone numbers are listed. My pastor also is willing to offer his recommendation.”

  I leafed through the pages she handed me, skimming the type. Friendly, trustworthy, honest, loves children.

  Thank You, Lord.

  Alissa was so fresh and so open she reminded me of Oklahoma. For a moment I was homesick.

  “The job is very basic. I need someone to be here when my daughters get home from school. Usually you will leave around six o’clock—but there will be times I’m required to work late. Of course I would compensate you for your extra time.”

  She nodded. “That would work fine for me. I have classes until one every afternoon, and I don’t mind staying late when you need me.” She flashed an affable grin. “I can use the extra money.”

  So. As simple as that, God had sent me a lovely young woman I felt reasonably sure I could entrust with my daughters’ security. And once more, I hadn’t asked Him to.

  Chapter 10

  Saturday morning I stepped back and admired the new kitchen border I’d just hung. I still had umpteen boxes to unpack, but I’d spotted the border at a chic shop not far from the salon on my lunch hour yesterday and I had to have it. My choice wasn’t all that bad—blue background with tiny buttercup colored irises that looked as if the wall covering came right out of the pages of House Beautiful. Sighing, I poured a second cup of coffee and anticipated my day. Through careful scheduling, I’d penciled out the last three hours on my appointment book. I’d promised Kelli and Kris a Christmas shopping expedition, though none of us was exactly in a festive mood. Everywhere I turned sparked old memories. I’d thought if I moved and started over, thoughts of Neil would be less frequent. How wrong could anyone be? I thought of him day and night, in places we’d never even visited together. When I saw egg rolls I cried; Neil had a passion for egg rolls. Our ninth anniversary would be coming up in January and I worried how I would get through the poignant day.

  On the plus side, the girls adored Alissa. The three had formed an instant friendship.

  And Mazi. Well, Mazi was another one of those gifts from God that I hadn’t asked for but He’d given me. She had a dichotomous personality: happy, depressed, full of energy, fatigued—you never knew which Mazi would breeze through the doorway. But I adored them all.

  The phone rang and I jerked up the handset, glancing at the clock. The salon: my eight-thirty had canceled.

  But instead of Wendy Curry, I recognized Gray Mitchell’s baritone.

  “Hope I’m not calling too early.”

  “No, not at all.” I perched on the step stool and wondered what time the man got up. Certainly earlier than I, because if it wasn’t the holiday season, and I wasn’t scheduled to work today I would still be snoozing away.

  “How’s the new house?”

  “I love it. I still can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

  He’d earlier mentioned that he’d returned to the nursing home after our talk that night, and had a long visit with the owner. He’d wanted to make sure she understood the terms, and who the new owners would be. After she’d read the informational sheet Gray had prepared she had asked for a pen and immediately signed the offer.

  “She and her deceased husband built the house,” Gray said. “They lived there their entire married life, so the residence is more than a house to her—it’s a symbol of happiness. When she learned of your circumstances, and that you have two small children to raise, she smiled and said she would pray that the home would bring you as much happiness as it has her.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful person.”

  I made a mental note to take Kelli and Kris by the nursing home before Christmas and introduce ourselves. I thought of La Chic’s outrageous poinsettia display filling the leather-and-cherry-wood sitting area, and decided that I’d stop by the florist before we went and purchase a plant for this lovely and compassionate woman.

  “Kate, I was wondering if you had plans for this evening.”

  The question took me by surprise, and I answered honestly. “Tonight? No.”

  Were there more papers to sign? Something I had failed to do?

  “There’s this Realtors’ dinner tonight. Would you like to go with me?”

  Oh, boy. I felt faint. I was being asked for a date? The very word felt heavy on my tongue. I wouldn’t know how to act on a date—I hadn’t been on a “date” in close to nine years. Alarm bells sounded in my head. Too soon! Too soon! The mere thought of going anywhere with a man other than Neil left me faint with guilt and disloyalty. I would have murdered Neil had I died
and he dated this soon. Or ever, actually.

  “Oh—thank you, Gray. I’m flattered. But I…”

  “I know this is early for you, Kate. And we wouldn’t consider it a date, per se, just a relaxing evening—if you think of office parties as relaxing.”

  No, I didn’t. The mere thought left me lukewarm. I’d have to have a new dress, arrange for one of the stylists to do my hair and makeup.

  “Thanks, but it is early—too early for me to—”

  He interrupted. “Tell you what. Would you feel differently if I skipped the office party and invited the girls to go? We could make it a foursome—hamburgers and fries at a local restaurant. What do you think?”

  Hamburgers and fries. The plan sounded innocent enough, and the girls would enjoy a little socializing. When Neil was alive, we ate out often, shopped together, visited theme parks, and zoos…. I shook the memories aside.

  “Kate?”

  “Yes?”

  “How about I meet you, say…” I pictured him consulting his watch. “Around five. There’s a great restaurant about two blocks from your salon. Parlyvista’s?”

  I knew the place; I’d seen the trendy restaurant on my drive to work. A far cry from a hamburgers-and-fries joint.

  “I know the restaurant.”

  “Okay. Five o’clock. If you get there first put our name in for a table.”

  “All right.” I still had plenty of reservations about the whole idea, but apparently I’d accepted the invitation—though I didn’t remember accepting. I shook off the mental fog.

  “Got to run—got a call on the other line. See you at five.”

  I nodded, and punched the off button. Now what had I done?

  You have just cut out an hour and a half Christmas shopping from your planned expedition, my petulant conscience informed me.

  One hour in holiday crowds and you’re pulling your hair out by the roots anyway, I smarted back, but I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to go to dinner with Gray Mitchell. Oh, he was nice enough—very nice, in fact. Helpful. Great personality and sense of humor—all traits I admired in a man. Without him I wouldn’t have gotten the house.