But Mom was gone. Something made her stop and listen harder. Her breath caught. It wasn’t Harley making that awful sound. Her little sister had stopped crying.
Trembling, she peeked around the corner. Dad was sitting in the rocking chair with Harley on his lap. She was cuddled up against his chest, sucking her thumb like she did when she was about to go to sleep.
The sound, the terrible sound, was Dad. He was crying. Sobbing and moaning—like the noise Frisky had made when he got hit by a truck out on the highway. They’d had to put the puppy to sleep after that.
Kayeleigh’s heart was beating so fast she was afraid she was dying. In all of her eleven years, she’d never seen Daddy cry. She wanted to fall into his arms and cry herself. But her legs wouldn’t work right.
She stumbled backward. Would Dad be mad if he knew she’d seen him? Breathing hard, she stood there, frozen to the spot, terrified he’d see her, and yet, wanting him to see her—wanting him to stop.
But he stayed, clutching Harley to his chest, his sobs coming like hard hiccoughs.
“Dad?” she whispered.
He didn’t seem to hear her.
She choked out his name again.
This time he stopped crying, lifted his head, and stared out into the hallway. Even in the dim yellow glow of Harley’s night-light, she could see that his eyes were red and puffy. But he looked past her, and she somehow knew he didn’t see her. Something in his face frightened her.
She slunk farther into the shadows of the hallway, trying to figure out what to do.
Everything was quiet in the house now. Kayeleigh stood in the darkness, her shoulder blades pressed against the cold doorframe, knees locked. She waited. For what, she wasn’t sure. To hear Dad put Harley back to bed? To hear him crawl back into his and Mom’s bed?
But the only sounds now were the baby’s ragged breathing and the creak of the rocking chair. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Finally, careful to avoid the creaky boards again, she crept back up the stairs and crawled into the empty bed. But sleep never came, and she lay there until the sun rose, red and bright, over the top of the white eyelet curtains Mom had sewn for their room.
She knew then that nothing would ever be the same.
There was something exciting about the start of a brand-new year. But the tragic events of the holiday season tempered her enthusiasm this morning.
Chapter Five
Mickey scurried around the classroom, taking down the last of the Christmas decorations and watering the jungle of plants on the sunny windowsill that spanned the width of the room. She’d neglected them over the Christmas break, but a little water and some fertilizer and they’d bounce back.
There was something exciting about the start of a brand-new year. But the tragic events of the holiday season tempered her enthusiasm this morning. Keeping one eye on the window to the street, she put away the watering can and laid out paper and supplies for a finger-painting project.
The DeVore kids would be back today, and she was nervous about how to help them adjust. She hadn’t talked to Doug DeVore since before the funeral, although he’d left a brief message on the answering machine at the daycare, asking her to hold the kids’ spots.
Mary Harms, the librarian, told Mickey that Doug had pulled the kids out of school for the whole month of December, and Kaye’s mother had not gone to Florida, where she wintered, so she could stay with them.
What a sad Christmas it must have been at the DeVore house. And today, while everyone jumped into the new year, Doug and the kids were learning to go on without their mom and sister. She shook her head. Sometimes life didn’t make sense at all.
Pushing a toddler-size chair under the puzzle table, she recited the feeble words in her mind once more. A dozen times she’d rehearsed what she would say to Doug and to the kids when they came back. But now nothing sounded right. How could she offer anything that didn’t sound trite and hollow?
She looked up to see the door open and a ball-capped head bobbing above the bookcases that hid her view. A current of nerves shot through her, then subsided when she realized it was just Mike Jensen, dropping his kids off.
She’d dared to hope the DeVores might get here before the other children arrived so she could spend a little time with them and assess how the kids were adjusting.
She stopped to greet Brett Jensen and his little sister, Hallie. They gave their dad distracted good-bye hugs, then chattered to Mickey about the presents Santa had brought them. She steered them toward the reading corner and helped them settle in with some books and games.
By the time she got back to the front, Brenda Deaver, her main teacher, was making coffee.
“Hi, Mickey. How was your New Year’s? You do anything special?”
“Not really…same as every year…went to my brother’s.” She knew Brenda’s real question was “Did you have a date?” She was getting tired of disappointing everyone with her love life—or rather the lack thereof. She might be forced to deck the next person who felt the need to tell her, “You’re so beautiful…I can’t believe you’re not married.” As if beauty were some magic key to wedded bliss.
Time to change the subject. “Listen, Brenda, would you mind doing story hour this morning? The DeVore kids will be back today, and I want to stick pretty close.”
Brenda frowned. “Of course. Those poor kids…”
The door opened again and Doug walked in, a bundled-up Harley in his arms. He herded the twins toward Mickey and Brenda, nodding a greeting, then lowering Harley to the floor.
Mickey wiped her palms on the knees of her pants and went to greet them, watching the children closely. The twins seemed cheerful, like it was any ordinary weekday morning. They shrugged out of their coats and followed Brenda to the reading corner.
But Harley stood there, droopy-eyed, trying to put a mittened thumb in her mouth.
Doug squatted and pulled off her mittens, then sat back on his haunches and went to work at the knotted strings tied under the toddler’s chin. He glanced up at Mickey. “She’s not quite awake yet.”
“Here…let me get that.” Mickey knelt beside him and reached for the dingy white laces, asking permission with her eyes.
“They make these stupid strings too short. Or else my fingers are too big.” He inspected his hands as if he’d never seen them before. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his face looked thinner than she remembered.
Mickey swallowed hard and busied herself with the soggy knot, training her attention on the toddler. “How are you this morning, Miss Harley? We missed you. Did you have a good Christmas?” Her heartbeat faltered, and she silently begged the thoughtless, stupid words to evaporate.
Instead, they hovered between her and Doug. Did you have a good Christmas? Was she a complete idiot? Somehow her carefully rehearsed speech had disintegrated, and she’d spouted the same lame greeting she’d given her other students as they came in.
Her cheeks burned while she finished working out the tangled ties on Harley’s hood. She unzipped the little coat and slipped off the hood to reveal blond curls in dire need of a comb. She rose to find herself eye level with the collar of Doug’s flannel shirt.
Her throat swelled. Forcing herself to meet his eyes, she croaked out an apology. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered, then realized he probably thought she was apologizing for her thoughtless comment. She couldn’t leave it at that.
Clenching her fists, she started again. “I’m so sorry about…what happened. We’ve been praying for you and the kids. We’ll—miss Rachel so much. And Kaye, of course,” she added quickly.
Words that had sounded compassionate in her head came out clunky and cold. Shut up while you’re ahead, Valdez.
She recognized his effort to paste on a smile, but it didn’t work, and for a minute she was afraid he might break down.
His jaw worked and he bent to pick up Harley again. “Thanks.” He hitched the little girl up on his hip and kissed the top of her blond head before settin
g her back down.
But she scrambled after him, lifting her hands. Her face crumpled. “Daddy!”
“Bye-bye, Harley. You stay with Miss Mickey. Daddy will see you tonight.” Doug gave Mickey a pleading look and backed away. He turned and walked purposefully toward the door, but Harley toddled after him, sobbing now.
It broke Mickey’s heart. She raced after Harley. “Come on, honey. You come with Miss Mickey. Let’s go find your sisters.” She scooped the toddler into her arms, but Harley only screamed louder.
“Daddy!”
The shrill cry pierced Mickey’s eardrums and she winced, but Doug kept on going. With one hand on the door, he turned around and gave Mickey a look that said, “Help me out here.”
But she’d never seen Harley like this. Usually the little girl was all sunshine and giggles. How could he walk away from her like this, after all she’d been through? She hurried to the door, Harley screaming in her arms. “Are…are you sure you want to leave her like this?”
Doug stared at her. “I don’t have a choice. I’ve missed enough work as it is.”
She nodded. “All right, then.”
Poor Harley. Her face was rosy and tear-stained, but her crying subsided a little. Sniffing, she looked between the two of them, suddenly interested in their conversation.
Mickey bounced the toddler on one hip. “She does seem to be calming down a little. Maybe I can distract her. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” She nodded in the direction of the reading corner, where Sarah and Sadie were sitting quietly. “How are the girls doing? Is there anything I should know…anything they’re especially struggling with?”
His expression was dull. “You mean other than the obvious?”
His caustic tone sent her reeling, and she looked away. This was a side of the man she’d never seen in the five years she’d had his kids in daycare. Tears pressed at her eyelids, but she blinked them back. The last thing he needed was to feel guilty about hurting her feelings.
But he didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve got to get going.” He pushed the door open.
She nodded and started back to the reading corner with Harley. She worked to keep her voice from trembling. “Let’s go see what your sisters are doing, okay?”
Harley pointed toward the dayroom and gave a shy smile. Mickey sighed. She should simply have dealt with Harley the way she did with any child who didn’t want to be left. Still, this was different. Harley might not be old enough to understand the tragedy her family had experienced, but she’d been exposed to their grieving. That had to have an effect.
Mickey left Harley ensconced between her sisters, sucking her thumb and looking at a picture book, but she fretted over the exchange with Doug. He was understandably not himself, but he could have been a little more helpful. Under the circumstances, she wouldn’t have been wrong to insist he stay until Harley calmed down a little.
Turning to go back to her desk, she looked up to see Doug peering over the bookcase. She hurried to where he was.
“I guess…she settled down okay?” Worry etched his forehead.
She forced a smile and found that it diminished some of her ire. “She’s fine. I’m sorry I—”
He held up a hand. “No. I’m the one who’s sorry. I—I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” He dipped his head.
“It’s okay. I understand. This has to be terribly hard…for all of you.”
He nodded. “I think she’s a little afraid of being left. She doesn’t want anybody else to disappear out of her life.”
“Of course.” She could have kicked herself. She was the one who was supposed to be the expert on childhood development. “Don’t worry. We’ll reassure her that you’ll be back soon.”
“Thanks.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to go.”
She lifted a hand. “Go. She’ll be fine. They all will.”
Doug gave his girls one last longing glance before he turned and walked out the door.
She’d been ready to punch the guy a minute ago. But now the hunch of his shoulders made Mickey want to give him a hug. Poor guy.
Mickey hung back. It felt awkward to just barge into the house.
Chapter Six
Mickey zipped up Timothy Plank’s coat and sent him out the door with his mother. That was everybody except the DeVore kids. She waved a hand toward Brenda Deaver. “You might as well go on home. I’ll wait with the kids.”
The teacher rolled her eyes. “The kids have barely been back for three weeks, and he’s been late every single night, Mickey.”
“Not that late. I feel for the guy.”
“Are you going to talk to him?”
“How can I, Brenda? He’s trying to be mom and dad both.” The puff of air Mickey blew out ruffled too-long bangs off her forehead. She’d missed a hair appointment Tuesday, thanks to Doug being late. “It’s not like he can help it.”
Brenda propped her hands on her hips. “So you’re going to start keeping the center open till seven every night, then? Because if you are, you’d better think about hiring another worker.”
“I know. I know. But what am I supposed to do?” Mickey threw up her hands. Brenda was her only full-time employee, and as it was, Mickey struggled to pay her after-school help and the substitutes, and still pay herself and Brenda a salary with benefits.
“I thought Kaye’s mom was staying with the kids.” Brenda glanced toward the playroom.
The children’s laughter filtered through the wall of windows that separated the reception room from the rest of the center. Kayeleigh and Landon had come from school and managed to turn “I Spy with My Little Eye” into a rowdy game for their siblings. Mickey smiled. She might have tried to settle them down…before. But it was good to see them having fun. They’d been glum for too many days of this new year.
She turned back to Brenda and lowered her voice. “Kayeleigh said Harriet went back to Florida for a few days to close up her condo. She’s apparently going to stay in Clayburn for the rest of the winter. I sort of got the impression she’s not a whole lot of help, though.”
Brenda nodded. “I could see that. She’s not exactly Mary Poppins. But at least there’ll be somebody to—”
The phone on Mickey’s desk rang. She held up a hand. “Hang on…. Clayburn Day Care, this is Mickey.”
“Mickey, it’s Doug. I’m sorry, but I’m running late again. I had to deliver some printing to Ellsworth. Are the kids doing okay?”
“They’re fine.” She waved Brenda out the door and took the phone to the entrance of the playroom. “You can probably hear them.”
“I hear them.” There was a smile in his voice. Too rare these days for a man who used to always be laughing. “It’s probably going to be another twenty minutes. I just left town, but I’m in the van, so I’ll have to stop by the office and switch vehicles.”
That meant a good twenty-five minutes. “Let me bring the kids home. I’ll meet you there. There’s no sense in you having to backtrack.”
“You don’t need to do that.” But his voice sounded hopeful.
“I don’t mind. I’m not doing anything else. I’ll meet you there.”
“Can you fit everybody in your car?”
“I can take the center’s van. Hang on. Let me make sure there’s a car seat here.”
She carried the phone to the closet and found the car seat under a box of Christmas decorations she hadn’t gotten around to putting up on the shelf yet. “Okay,” she told Doug. “We’re good to go.”
“Thanks, Mickey. I really appreciate it. I’ll add some gas money to your next check.”
She went to help the kids into their coats. She truly didn’t mind. It wasn’t like the extra trip was keeping her from a hot date or anything.
Twenty minutes later she pulled the minivan up behind Doug’s Suburban in the DeVores’ driveway. She never would have found the place if Kayeleigh and Landon hadn’t told her where to turn. The two-story farmhouse stood in the center of the section facing east, but it was se
t back from the road about a thousand yards, hidden behind a thick shelterbelt of red cedars. An overgrown, tumbledown barn north of the house appeared faded and scoured by half a century of summers.
Bicycles in an array of sizes littered the front yard, and three tiger-striped cats perched on the porch railing. The house looked as if it had been added on to numerous times over the years, but a fresh coat of white paint unified the patchwork of rooms tacked to the house.
She unbuckled Harley from the car seat while the kids piled out of the car. With the toddler on her hip, she followed the older kids up the porch steps. They jostled to be first through the front door, but Mickey hung back. It felt awkward to just barge into the house. “Wait. Kayeleigh, is your dad home?”
“His truck’s not here,” Landon said.
Kayeleigh motioned her inside. “He’s probably parked in back. Come on in.”
Mickey shook her head. “I need to get home. But I want to make sure your dad’s here before I leave.”
Kayeleigh shrugged her narrow shoulders. “It’s okay. I can babysit until he comes in.”
Mickey hesitated. “I’m sure you can, but I should wait and make sure…” She cleared her throat and started again. “I should stay until he gets home.”
The living room was a pigsty. There was no polite way to put it. And the house smelled musty—like a basement that had been closed up for a long time. The coffee table was littered with dirty dishes, and she had to pick her way around toys and stacks of newspapers and magazines before she found a place to set Harley down. She helped the twins out of their coats and gloves while Kayeleigh did the same for the baby.
With the matching coats draped over one arm, she turned to Kayeleigh. “Where should I hang these?”
Kayeleigh looked around the room as if she hadn’t lived here her whole life. “Um…you can just throw them on the couch.”
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