“Margie helped Amber make a little scrapbook about her grandmother.” Pete said. “And we visited the cemetery together. I think it really did help her get through the grieving.”
“Yeah? I guess I could take the kids to the cemetery. We haven’t been back since the funeral.”
They went back to the tasks at hand, but he thought about what Pete had said. Wade hadn’t encouraged the kids to talk about their mother. Partly because he didn’t want to talk about her. It hurt too much. Not that Starr wasn’t in his thoughts from the time the sun crept over the horizon until he finally tossed himself to sleep in the wee hours of the morning. But somehow it had seemed foolish to deliberately inflict the pain––on himself or the kids––of recalling the sweet smile that made her cornflower blue eyes sparkle, remembering her contagious laughter, aching for her gentle touch.
But maybe he was wrong. He made a mental note to stop off at the flower shop after work. They’d have time to go out to the cemetery before it got dark.
“Have you ever heard what happened?” Pete’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Why she died?”
Wade stared at the handful of roofing nails in his palm. How many hours of sleep had he lost over that very question? “No. The autopsy report still hasn’t come back.”
“Good grief, what’s taking them so long?”
He shrugged. “Just your typical government red tape, I guess. They said it might take six to eight weeks. To be honest, I have a feeling that report isn’t going to tell us a blame thing anyway.”
Pete cocked his head and wrinkled his brow. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. Just a gut feeling.”
Wade had wasted too much time wondering what the coroner would find. It would likely be some technical medical mumbo jumbo he wouldn’t understand anyway. Everybody who knew anything about what happened speculated that Starr had been overcome by the paint fumes in the house, or she’d suffered a stroke or heart failure. But why or how it happened didn’t much matter anymore. Knowing what killed Starr wasn’t going to bring her back.
The evening breeze whipped Lacey’s and Danica’s fine, pale hair across their faces, but as they trudged across the cemetery, the little girls’ fists remained tightly clutched around the bouquets they’d brought for their mama. Wade turned to make sure Beau was coming. The boy lagged reluctantly behind their little procession, but he, too, carried a fistful of flowers.
Dani tugged at Wade’s jacket and looked up at him with soulful eyes. “Does Mama know we’re coming?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but Lacey relieved him of the burden.
“Sure she does,” Lacey said. “She’s in heaven looking down on us right now.”
Dani stopped walking and turned her pixie face to the sky. “Here, Mama! Look what I’m bringin’ you.” Her thin voice floated away on the breeze as she waved the daisies above her head.
“She can’t hear you, dummy,” Beau spat.
Even from across the grounds, Wade heard the antagonism in his voice. He turned and hurried back to where Beau was. Putting a firm grip on the slight shoulder, he kept his voice low. “Hey, bud. Let her be. Maybe your mama can see us. And even if she can’t, if it makes Dani feel better to think so, then don’t take that away from her.”
Beau wriggled out from under Wade’s grasp and walked ahead of him toward Starr’s grave.
The mournful call of a turtledove filled the silence as the four of them made their way to the new grave at the far end of the Coyote Municipal Cemetery just outside of town.
After four weeks the weeds had carpeted the mound of dirt over Starr’s grave in green. The tiny metal marker from the funeral home was dwarfed by the headstones and monuments dotting the rest of the cemetery. How much did one of these stones cost? Money was incredibly tight. He’d almost eaten through their wedding savings, and the stack of bills kept piling up at an alarming rate. He still hadn’t checked into Starr’s insurance, but he was terrified of the slippery slope he might tumble down once he started the whole process of making things legal with Starr’s children.
He probably owed it to them to collect on the insurance they had coming from their mother’s employer. Heaven knew the children were doing without because of his reluctance to take care of the matter. But they’d done without all their lives. In fact, they were living high on the hog now, compared to what Starr had told him about their life in Minnesota after she’d left Darrin.
He wondered what would happen to the money if no one ever tried to collect. Would it be put in a trust fund for the children? That would be good. Then, at least, they would have it to pay for college. Maybe he could call Mark Forester from church. He was an insurance salesman. He might be able to feel him out for an answer without putting his situation with the kids in jeopardy.
“Wade?” Lacey tugged at the hem of his jacket.
Monday morning, he would check with a monument company and see if it was something they might be able to afford. The children could help him choose the design. Maybe it would help them feel they were a part of their mother’s memorial.
“Wade?” Lacey’s voice, insistent now, forced his thoughts to the present.
“I’m sorry, honey. What did you want?”
“What should we do now?”
Wade hadn’t thought about what they should say or do when they got here. Help me, Lord. Surely God was sick to death of his three-word plea.
The four of them stood in a little knot on the windswept knoll. Finally, he put a hand on each of the girls’ heads. “Do you want to put your flowers on your mama’s grave?” he whispered. Dani bent and laid her offering on the mound of dirt. She looked to Wade for approval, and he nodded, afraid to speak over the lump in his throat.
Lacey followed suit, placing her bouquet beside her sister’s and kneeling to arrange the yellow ribbon that held the stems together. She straightened and stepped back to stand in Wade’s shadow, looking so grown-up he thought his heart would break.
Beau stood gazing across the cemetery, unmoving. Wade nudged him. “Beau?”
Beau tossed his flowers on top of his sisters’. Lacey quickly bent and arranged the three bouquets in a row at the foot of the mound.
Beau looked up over his shoulder at Wade. “Can I say something? For Mama?”
Wade raised his eyebrows in surprise and swallowed hard. “Sure, bud. Say whatever you like. That’d be nice.”
Beau cleared his throat and bowed his head. “I miss you, Mama. I wish…I wish you could come back. But I know if you’re with Jesus you probably don’t want to come back. So… Well, I guess that’s all. Except––”
Beau glanced over his shoulder, and Wade detected a spark of mischief in his hazel eyes. He hadn’t seen that gleam since before Starr’s death.
Beau bowed his head again. “Except,” he went on, “Wade’s not a very good cook, and we’re back to havin’ macaroni and cheese all the time.”
“Yeah, Mama,” Dani chimed, playful accusation in her voice.
Lacey giggled, then covered her mouth and looked over her shoulder at Wade.
He winked at her and stifled a chuckle. “It’s true, Starr,” he said, bowing his head again. “I’m not as good a cook as you were. We miss you, but––” His emotions took him by surprise and his voice broke. He cleared his throat and started again. “We miss you, babe, but we’re doing the best we can. And…I’ll try to do better about the macaroni.”
“Amen,” Lacey said too loudly. She clamped a hand over her mouth, but the giggles escaped anyway, and soon they were all laughing––even Beau.
Wade rubbed his knuckles over the top of Beau’s head. “You little tattletale,” he teased.
His joke might have seemed irreverent here at Starr’s graveside. But Beau’s satisfied grin and the girl’s bubbling laughter rewarded him. And somehow, he felt as though Starr might be laughing along with them.
Wade flung propriety to the prairie winds. He picked Dani up and slung her over his shoulde
r like a sack of potatoes. “And you, too! I ought to make you eat macaroni for breakfast!”
“No way!” Dani said. But she squealed with delight.
“Me, too,” Lacey cried, lifting her arms to Wade, a wide smile splitting her face.
He scooped her up and flopped her over his other shoulder.
Suddenly, it was like old times. They were teasing and laughing the way they had when Starr had been the instigator. It felt wonderful.
And at the same time, it cut like a knife. Because Starr wasn’t here to instigate. Wasn’t here to enjoy their playfulness. How she would have delighted in their laughter now. Would he forever be aware of the huge void she’d left in their lives? And would these children be scarred for life because of their tragic loss? Would every joyful moment like this be tainted with the memory of the loving mother they’d lost?
Yet, for tonight, the gift of laughter had been returned to them. He would dwell on that and be thankful. He’d take life’s sudden twists as they came, knowing he couldn’t face anything beyond today.
Chapter 10
Sophia Braden tossed her purse on the derelict sofa and flipped on the television. The insipid drone of an afternoon talk show immediately soothed her jangled nerves. She was wiped out. She’d worked a double shift again, her second in as many days.
She couldn’t take much more of these long hours, but she could sure use the money. She glared at the phone as she passed by, willing it not to ring. So help me, if Wade calls me to pick those kids up from school again, I’m going to scream. Maybe she just wouldn’t answer it. What would he do then?
Immediately, her thoughts heaped guilt on her. She slumped to the sofa and kicked off her shoes. She couldn’t blame Wade. Taking care of the kids single-handedly, he had to be as tired as she was. Oh, she’d helped him out from time to time, picking them up from school, or keeping them for an hour or two in the afternoon so he could finish up a job. After all, they were her sister’s kids, and she felt some sense of responsibility for them. She blew out a breath. Heaven knew Wade didn’t have to take them under his wing. There were other options for their care.
She still wondered about his motives sometimes. But unless Starr had won the lottery or something and failed to tell Sophie about it, she couldn’t imagine what would motivate a free man to take on three kids who didn’t share one drop of his blood. Watching him over the last few weeks, she was starting to believe that Wade Sullivan might be the real deal.
She hadn’t liked the man when Starr first started going out with him. Of course, in her twenty-seven years, she could count on half a hand the men she liked. Or at least the ones she trusted. But Wade had eventually grown on her. He’d been good to Starr.
Not like that good-for-nothing Darrin Parnell. She’d known he was trouble the minute she’d laid eyes on him. She knew his type all too well. She’d even tried to warn Starr. But her starry-eyed sister hadn’t listened to her. She’d been duped by Darrin’s good looks and charm. She’d fallen for his whole sorry act, and by the time Starr realized what a bum the man was, he’d given her three little mouths to feed and a few broken bones to remember him by.
Sophie had moved to Coyote before things got so ugly between Starr and Darrin. She hadn’t realized how bad it was until Starr showed up on her doorstep in Coyote bruised and battered, scared to death, kids in tow, having driven straight through from Minneapolis.
Sophie wanted to believe Wade Sullivan was different. She’d known him for longer than Starr had. Wade and Pete came into the café for lunch at least once a week. She’d thought Pete was cute––until she found out he was married. Very happily married. Wade had made that quite clear when he recognized that she was flirting with Pete. At first she’d thought Wade was trying to turn her attentions his way. After all, he was one of Coyote’s most eligible bachelors. But it soon became obvious that he’d only been defending his friend’s honor. He wasn’t interested in her––or in anyone else, it seemed. Rumor had it that Wade rarely dated and was perfectly content to remain single the rest of his life.
Sophie had actually been the one to introduce Wade and Starr, though not with any hint of an agenda. She’d sure never dreamed Starr would end up with the guy.
It turned out Wade, like Starr, was one of those semi-religious freaks. Went to church every Sunday, talked about God like he actually knew the guy. Sophie was leery from the start. It all seemed a little too weird to her.
But she had to admit she’d never seen Starr so content. And unless her sister had become an Oscar-caliber actress, Sophie thought she’d been truly in love with Wade.
Not that it mattered now. Starr was dead. So much for happily ever after.
May was half over, and summer came in earnest on a wave of hundred-degree days. Wade and Pete were building a great room and master bedroom addition onto a Tudor-style house twenty miles outside of town. It was a fun project and a lucrative one, but the added commute each day meant the kids were in daycare that much longer.
Sophie volunteered to keep them for a while after school and drop them off at daycare before she started her evening shift. Most nights it was after six before Wade picked them up from the center.
Martina Blackwell, who ran the Coyote Childcare Center, had been very understanding of his situation, but after two weeks of picking up the children after the center was officially closed, he could sense she was growing impatient. He’d apologized till he was blue in the face, but Marty had a family of her own, and it wasn’t fair for him to expect her to neglect her own kids while she took care of his.
More than anything, he hated that he only saw the kids for a few minutes as he hurried them through supper and tucked them into bed, only to get up and rush them off to school the next morning.
The only good thing he could see in the whole lousy situation was that the long hours and hectic schedule gave him little time to think about Starr. He’d lived almost two months without her now. Sometimes it seemed like forever.
On this warm day in May, Wade and Pete straddled the rafters of the addition, hammering away in companionable silence. The Kansas sun pierced a cloudless blue sky, baking the earth and them with it. Across the blacktop road, the wheat was already beginning to turn gold.
Wade had planned to knock off at five tonight. Beau had basketball practice, and the coach had scheduled a scrimmage with another team. It would be a good chance to spend some time with the kids. But when five o’clock hit, he and Pete were so close to finishing this phase of the project that he ignored his nagging conscience and kept hammering. By the time he parked in front of the daycare center on Coyote’s Main Street, it was close to six-thirty. He’d be lucky if he had time for a shower before Beau’s game.
He pulled open the front door and walked through the entry hall into the large playroom. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he spotted Dani bent over a child-size table in the corner, her pixie face a mask of concentration.
As if sensing his presence, she looked up from the puzzle she was working. “Wade!” She snapped one last piece into place and ran over to wrap her arms around his knees.
“Hey, Dani Banany! Careful, sweetie. I’m all dirty. How was your day?” He rubbed his knuckles affectionately over the top of her head. “Where’re Beau and Lacey? We need to hurry. Beau’s got basketball tonight.”
“He’s out on the playground. I dunno know where Lacey is.”
“Well, get your things. I’m extra late tonight, so we need to hustle.”
Wade hurried through the back entrance to the playground. Beau and Lacey were both on the swing set, but when they spotted him, they jumped off and ran to meet him.
“Get your stuff, guys,” he told them. “We need to grab some supper and get home. Your scrimmage starts in less than an hour, bud.”
He looked up to see Marty Blackwell watching them through the large window in her office that overlooked the playground. He gave her a sheepish wave.
A pained expression pinched Beau’s face. “
Um…you’re s’posed to talk to Miss Marty before you leave.”
Wade cocked his head. “What about?”
Beau looked at the ground.
“Did you get in trouble?”
“He hit Taylor Bishop,” Lacey volunteered.
“Shut up, Lacey!”
Wade put a hand on Beau’s shoulder. “Hey…look at me. Is that true?”
Beau nodded reluctantly.
“Beau, why would you do that?”
He looked up at Wade, narrowing his hazel eyes and jutting out his chin. “That stupid Taylor was making fun of me!”
“Well, you don’t haul off and hit somebody just because they’re making fun of you.”
“Yeah, but he said––”
Wade squeezed Beau’s shoulder firmly. “Okay, okay…we’ll talk about it later. Let’s go see Miss Marty.” He turned to the girls. “You two wait for us in the playroom.”
He led Beau to Marty’s cluttered office. Wade knocked on the doorjamb. “Marty?”
“Hi, Wade. Come on in.” She looked at Beau and nodded a greeting. “Hello, Beau,” she said, her tone turning stern. Sweeping away a stack of picture books from two straight-backed chairs in front of her cluttered desk, she motioned for them to take a seat.
“Did Beau tell you what happened?”
“Well, sort of. He hit a boy?”
The teacher nodded, looked at Beau, then back to Wade. “Yes, he hit Taylor Bishop. I’ve already talked to Beau about this, and he apologized to Taylor. But this isn’t the first time this has happened.”
Wade turned to Beau, who suddenly found something fascinating outside the window overlooking Main Street. Wade hadn’t heard about a previous incident.
“I’m sorry, Wade,” Marty said, “but if this happens again, I’ll have to dismiss Beau from the daycare. I’m sure you understand why we can’t have other parents worrying about whether or not their children are safe here.”
He cleared his throat and placed his palm on Beau’s head. “I understand. We understand. It won’t happen again. I can assure you of that.”
A Nest of Sparrows Page 7