“Me too.” She hugged her quickly. “No mushy stuff. Got it.” She opened Rachel’s office door, then crossed to the second door before she turned back. “Thanks, Rachel.”
“You’re welcome.”
Elsa opened the door.
Parents and grandparents clogged both ends of the hall leading to the auditorium. People chatted as they moved, a kaleidoscope of bright clothing and happy faces.
This is the normal, her conscience scolded softly. What you see right here, right now. This is what God intended, for his people to pass through life sure footed, to care for their young with love and compassion. Don’t blame God for what man has put asunder.
“Elsa?”
She turned toward Nick’s surprised voice. “Hey.”
He spotted Rachel behind her and nodded. “Mrs. Willingham, I know you’re busy, but I’d like to thank you for recommending your sister to work with my girls.” He settled his gaze on Elsa just long enough to make her wish it were longer. “She’s making a difference already.”
“I’m glad.” Rachel tapped her watch. “I’ve got to run. Mr. Stafford, there are seats saved down front so you don’t all have to walk so far.”
Sam was coming up behind Nick, flanked by Colt and Isabo. Angelina followed with Noah. Sam looked aggrieved at first, then nodded. “I’d appreciate not walking too far, actually.”
“I’ve always been a front-row-seat kind of guy.” Colt tipped an imaginary hat Rachel’s way. “You’ve got my thanks, ma’am.”
Rachel grinned and moved off as they followed her to the first access door.
Nick turned back to Elsa. “Stay.”
She almost did. It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes when Whitney strolled through the door.
She spotted Elsa standing near Nick. Her countenance changed. Her affect darkened and her gaze narrowed as if looking for confrontation. Elsa wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. “I’ve got to get things done today, but I needed to meet with Rachel first thing. I’ll be ready to start with the girls tomorrow, all right?”
He began to say something, then paused and let it go. “Cheyenne’s teacher sent home three study guides. Math, language, and reading with spelling lists too. They’re pretty big books.”
“We’ve got all summer, and we’ll take it day by day.” She moved another step back as Whitney drew close. “Enjoy the moving-up ceremony.”
“We will.”
It wasn’t Nick who answered. It was Whitney, smiling up at him as if he mattered. Touching his arm as if they were a couple. Standing close enough to send a proprietary message.
Her body language hinted one thing. Her eyes said another.
Nick eased away from her proximity. He kept his arms firmly at his side and didn’t make eye contact with her. Elsa started to turn, then remembered their last conversation. “Nick, I forgot to ask about the cow. How is she? How’s the calf ?”
He shook his head.
“Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry.” She was too. Her parents had taken animal losses seriously on their smaller ranch. Maybe it didn’t mean quite so much on a big holding, but Nick’s expression indicated otherwise.
“Rough night.” He splayed his hands slightly. “Today’s another day.”
She grimaced because she knew he meant more than the ranch loss.
Whitney looked bored. Maybe worse than bored. Disgusted was a better term, as if the thought of the ranch and the animals and the everyday dance of life and death annoyed her.
“Well, if you need an experienced hand on deck when those puppies come due, I’m happy to jump in.”
“Thanks, Elsa.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Whitney said nothing. She didn’t acknowledge Elsa’s existence with anything more than a cold hard look. She turned toward the auditorium and tugged Nick’s arm as Elsa moved toward the door.
Explosive.
The word filled Elsa’s mind as she went outside.
Whitney was a powder keg, waiting to explode, but why? Because of Elsa?
That made no sense. She’d left of her own accord and had been gone for years. So what was driving her return and the negative attitude? Lack of money? Regret? A combination of the two?
She started her car, and as she appropriately circled the parking lot to the exit, late arrivals pulled in, ignoring the exit arrows, using the exit for quick access to the school. As she waited, then threaded her way through, she was a salmon, swimming the right direction, but the wrong way, it seemed.
In Rachel’s office it had seemed momentarily right and tempting to take that next step forward. Did she dare?
Her bag had flopped open on the passenger seat. The folded sheet of copier paper lay tucked just inside, inviting her to take a chance.
You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Why not? Are you willing to let one person’s horrid choice steal your life too?
No.
She made up her mind as she took a left into town. She’d always have regrets about Will Belvedere’s precious children. But it was his choice, not hers, that stole two sweet lives that warm spring day.
She stopped by Hammerstein’s Mercantile and bought cream for her coffee and coarser sandpaper for the neglected shutters. And then she went back to the woods, determined to use this time to help shape up the odd little house, because if she did get a job…
She breathed deep and it felt good.
When she started working, she wanted something cheerful and friendly to come home to. She parked the car, made a cup of coffee, and got to work.
Ladies first. Nick allowed Whitney to precede him through the auditorium door and regretted the action as they descended the long, sloped ramp. Their entrance through the emergency exit door turned heads, and Whitney made the most of the moment. She paused, not quite striking a pose, but with a “notice me” stature, and Nick was pretty sure at least eighty percent of the crowd noticed her, all right.
He moved right by, refusing to be part of her charade. Colt had kept a seat at the far right, while Isabo had saved one at the near left.
He slipped into the tufted seat next to his brother and whispered, “Thank you.”
“Yup.”
Eyes forward, Colt ignored Whitney’s approach from the left, and when she made a show of smoothing the bottom of her dress over her hips before she settled into her seat, Nick bit back a sigh.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
He’d used that prayer long ago, and it helped. Then he spent some years not praying at all. Once he’d married Whitney and had Cheyenne, he prayed for show, he and his perfect family lined up in church.
He wasn’t sure when he’d started praying sincerely again. Sometime between Whitney’s departure and that second Christmas alone, when he realized it was time to be something better than a fake example to his daughters.
The program started, and as the kindergarten and first grade classes marched in wearing miniature caps and gowns, adult drama faded.
“ ’Kota!” Colt pseudo-whispered her name as she walked by. She giggled, hands up to her mouth, and sent her dad and her uncle a look of delight. The line had to pause as they mounted the steps on the right-hand side. Row by row they marched up, each child taking a seat on the graduated risers. Dakota peeked back over her shoulder. She waved to Angelina, then to Sam and Isabo.
And then she turned back toward the teacher, dismissing her mother completely.
Nick refused to glance Whitney’s way.
Kids had their own ways of getting a message across, and Dakota had made hers clear. She didn’t remember Whitney, she didn’t think she needed her mother, and she wasn’t about to acknowledge her. Did that hurt Whitney? He didn’t know, and if it took years for her to regain ground with their youngest child, so be it. He didn’t walk out. She did. Simple science said reactions generally met actions headfirst. If that held true, Whitney would be wo
rking her way back into Dakota’s good graces for a while.
Elsa’s sister moved to the podium. The teachers instructed the first row to stand and come forward. One by one their names were called to accept their scrolled diploma from the principal. And when it was Dakota’s turn, she clutched Rachel’s hand with a squeal of delight. “Mrs. Willingham! Your sister is coming to my house this summer. To help us! Isn’t that so special?”
The crowd tittered.
The Staffords exchanged looks, unsurprised because Dakota wasn’t one to hold back her enthusiasm.
Whitney froze.
“It is.” The principal smiled down, squeezed the little one’s hand, then turned for the next student.
Dakota hurried down the left-hand steps, curls bouncing, and when she passed in front of their seats again, she waved to her family, a picture of innocence. She made eye contact with everyone in the row, starting with Isabo and working her way down. And once again she ignored Whitney’s existence.
As the program drew to a close, teachers released the students to their parents, ready to begin summer vacation.
“Daddy!” Dakota launched herself into Nick’s arms, then held on tight. “I’m so glad you came!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweet thing. We’re going to gather up your sister from her class and take everyone out to lunch. Sound good?”
“Even her?” She whispered the words, but when she pointed to Whitney, her expression made it clear that she didn’t consider her mother to be part of the family.
“All of us.” Angelina didn’t wait for Nick to answer. “Because we’re all quite proud of you, little one.”
“And I was so good!” Surprise hiked Noah’s voice and made people smile around them. “Can I have chocolate chip pancakes for lunch, just like Uncle Nick’s?”
“Well, little man”—Nick aimed his gaze down —“there isn’t a restaurant around that makes chocolate chip pancakes better than the Christine Stafford original recipe. Your grandma started the tradition a long time ago. I’m just happy to keep it going.”
“Huh?” Noah looked up, befuddled.
“The restaurants won’t have the right ones,” Nick explained in easier terms. “But I’ll make your favorite ones soon, if you’re good.”
“I’ll be good,” Noah promised.
“Me too!” Dakota squeezed Nick’s neck in a big hug. “So maybe I’ll just get chicken nuggets to celebrate today, okay?”
“Me too!” Noah fist-pumped the air. “And then we can play, ’Kota!”
“Some of us can.” Cheyenne came toward them. Stubborn reluctance dragged her steps. Nick had given her the choice of staying in class or being excused for Dakota’s special moment. She’d stayed in her classroom. Now she totally ignored the joy of her little sister’s moving-up ceremony as she shifted her gaze from her mother to Nick and back again. “I bet if I lived with Mom, I wouldn’t have to do stupid summer school every single day and miss out on all the fun stuff kids are supposed to do in summer.”
Angelina started moving toward the door, but she shot a quick look over her shoulder. “You should have considered that last fall, darlin’. You set the stage by your choices then. And now you have to fix those choices.”
“Like you and Elsa know so much,” the girl muttered. She folded her arms and glared at Nick. “Why do so many people get to boss me around? All I need is one mother and one father and not so many bosses. Why can’t we just be normal?”
She’d raised her voice as she spoke, until she ended on a note loud enough for half the thinning auditorium to hear.
“We’re as normal as anyone else these days, kid.” He reached out to ruffle her hair.
She edged away.
“Why is she doing summer school?” Whitney faced him much like Cheyenne had done, and the resemblance wasn’t lost on Nick. “Kids are supposed to be able to relax and enjoy summer. Not be tied down to a desk. That comes soon enough, doesn’t it?”
This from the woman who’d worked for less than four years of her thirty-one years on the planet. “She needs to make up work she missed this year.”
“Why did she miss it?” Whitney’s eyes went sharp. “Was she sick and you didn’t tell me, Nick?”
He refused to play her game and let Cheyenne and Dakota think this was his fault. “You were unreachable, as you know. And she wasn’t sick. She simply didn’t complete assignments. Now she needs to make them up. It’s that simple.”
“Were they too hard, baby?” Whitney bent low and gazed into Cheyenne’s eyes. “Did you ask for help and no one helped you?”
“All right, before this enchanting little display of enabling behavior gets out of hand, Cheyenne and I have this all worked out, and none of it is open for discussion. Everything’s arranged, and if she doesn’t like it?” Nick shrugged and started for the door. “Maybe she’ll work harder next year. Let’s go, girls, the family’s waiting.”
“Isn’t Mom coming?” Cheyenne hung back and put a death grip on Whitney’s arm. “I’m not going if Mom’s not invited.”
Should he count to ten? Or discipline Cheyenne for her very public display of bad manners? He almost stayed calm, then didn’t. “Go to the car. Now.”
Cheyenne froze, staring up at him.
“Nick.”
“Go.” He ignored Whitney and leveled a hard look at his daughter. “I’m the parent, I make the rules, and no kid of mine is going to issue challenges to me. Got it?”
She scowled and scuffed her feet all the way out of the auditorium and probably to the car. He turned back to Whitney. “Listen, you’re more than welcome to join us for lunch. Cheyenne would love it and that’s reason enough for me, but you’ve been gone, Whitney. You walked away and gave up custody of them three years ago, so don’t think you can stroll into town and start making waves. You can’t. You need to abide by my rules for them or leave them alone. We’ve spent three long years without a mother’s help, so don’t think you can instantly reassume the role. You made your choice, just like Cheyenne did in school, and in the real world, those choices have consequences.”
Dakota buried her head in his shoulder.
He sighed.
He shouldn’t be doing this here, in front of his little girl. He took a deep breath and began again. “You’re welcome to come along. We’re going to Mustang Bob’s off I-90. But there can’t be any more talk of Cheyenne getting out of schoolwork. It’s not an option.”
She glared up at him, then lifted one shoulder in an insolent shrug. “You go have lunch with your family, Nick. I’ve lost my appetite.”
She stalked off, and when they both reached the parking lot, she made a show of stomping to her worn car, enough of a performance for any remaining people to notice.
Whitney had always loved a public fuss, but they used to be more positive in nature. Her love for attention came flooding back into his memories as he crossed the asphalt and settled Dakota into the backseat.
Colt pulled up alongside, his window down. “We’ll get a table. See you up the road. And congratulations, kid.” He smiled down at Dakota from his higher vantage point. “Nice job.”
“Thank you!”
Her smile returned and she wriggled in delight.
Nick climbed into the driver’s seat, torn.
He didn’t want to fight with Whitney. Yes, things were easier with her gone, but he understood that having your mother shrug you off was one of those things you never forgot. To this day he still wondered why his had never bothered looking back. Or returned just to check up on him.
Had Sam paid her to leave?
He’d never asked. What if his father confirmed the rumor? What kind of woman could be paid to abandon her child?
He didn’t like to think about it, so he didn’t, but if he purposely pushed Whitney away, he’d be guilty of the same thing, laying the groundwork for his girls to ask the exact same questions.
He didn’t want that gaping hole for the girls, but he didn’t want a drunken
caricature of a mother either. At the moment those appeared to be the only two choices he had.
Elsa finished painting the trim, put a first coat on the clapboards lining the south side, and lightly sanded all six shutters.
Then she cleaned up her hands and studied the school district application she’d just printed.
The ideal job. Perfect for her credentials. And the weaker pay scale of a smaller district didn’t pose a problem for her here. Her costs were low, and she kept her needs minimal.
A job. With kids. Surrounded by coworkers. Tackling the things she’d loved.
You loved it then. Are you strong enough to take this on?
She studied the multipage document while she pondered that question.
She’d stepped out of the shadows, ready to embrace the light, but applying for this job would bring everything out into the open by necessity. Professionals would handle her past based on facts and discernment. They’d assess if she’d overreacted, and they’d decide if she’d done anything wrong.
But it wasn’t their rejection that made her fingers grip tighter. What if Nick couldn’t handle it? Would his reaction send her back into doubt and despair? Was she ready to take a chance on the truth?
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”
She’d tried that. She’d been a staunch believer, a front-pew cheerleader, but grievous actions had doled out a mind-numbing dose of reality. Professing love for God and others did little if the mind clung to the poisons of hate.
She sat on the bench and let afternoon sounds churn around her. Achilles came around from out back. He moved quietly through the yard, then sat at her feet, staring out, mimicking her stance.
The finches had chorused all morning. Now they sat silent, enjoying an afternoon nap. Birds flitted above, darting for food here and there, but other than the pass of their wings, the forest was quiet. Waiting. Wondering. Just like her.
Our Father, who art in heaven…
Her phone interrupted the old prayer. She saw Rachel’s name and lifted the receiver. “Hey, Rach. What’s up? How did your little-people celebration go today?”
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