by Beth Wiseman
Brad was practically swooning. Darlene kicked him under the table.
“Ow.”
“You pick lasagna every year,” Ansley said to Grace as the lasagna was passed to her. She scooped out a small portion as she frowned. “Does this have eggs in it?”
“Are you allergic to eggs?” Cindy asked.
Chad grunted. “No. She’s not allergic. She’s collecting them.”
Darlene cut her eyes at Chad. He just shrugged, shoveling a generous amount of lasagna onto his plate.
After everyone had served themselves, the room went quiet. Darlene glanced around the table, trying to keep her eyes from straying toward Layla, especially since Brad couldn’t seem to get his eyes off her. The guests were all eating, except maybe Skylar, who was dissecting her lasagna, peeling the noodles away from the meat and stacking them to the side of the meat sauce and cheese. Darlene kept watching as Skylar forked out mushrooms and other vegetables, also pushing them to the side. When she was done, she had three piles, and Darlene wondered which one she would eat.
“What are you doing?” Chad asked Skylar, smirking.
Skylar shrugged, her cheeks blushing. “I—I just like to eat it this way.”
Chad elbowed Cindy, and both of them grinned. Darlene wished Chad was sitting beside her so she could kick him under the table too.
Layla cleared her throat. “I hear it’s healthier to eat your food that way.” She smiled at Skylar, then began to pick her own lasagna apart.
Darlene had never heard of such a thing. But it was a kind gesture, and Skylar seemed to relax.
From there, the conversation drifted to a girl at school who was pregnant, the math teacher who was having an affair with the PE teacher, and then lastly, Ansley’s English teacher who picked her nose all the time. Darlene didn’t think she’d ever heard a worse display of improper talk at the table. Layla probably thought they were all a bunch of bumpkins. And Brad was laughing.
“I’m pretty sure this is not how I raised my children to talk at the dinner table.” Darlene glanced around. “Don’t you have something else to talk about?” The kids paused momentarily, then just kept on talking. She glanced at Layla, who locked eyes with her and grinned. Darlene just shook her head and smiled.
At the end of the meal, Brad spoke up. “If everyone’s through eating, maybe it’s time for Grace to open her presents.” He leaned back in his chair. “I think there might be something out behind the barn . . .”
Grace jumped from her chair and ran toward the door . . . followed by Ansley, Chad, Cindy, and Skylar.
“I’m guessing a car?” Layla helped herself to another piece of garlic bread as the door slammed behind all the teenagers.
“Not a new car. It’s a Ford Explorer. Big enough to be safe, sporty enough not to be embarrassed in, and old enough that we could afford it.” Darlene waited until Layla finished her bread and laid her napkin across her plate. “Let’s go see if she likes it.”
Darlene, Brad, and Layla went outside. She could hear the chatter coming from the other side of the barn. A few moments later, Grace emerged and ran toward them.
“Thank you, Mom! Thank you, Dad!” She threw her arms around them both, and Darlene kissed her on the forehead.
“You’re welcome, my sweet girl.”
An hour later, Grace thanked Layla for the card and check, and she opened the rest of her presents. Chad and Cindy gave her a gift card for Royer’s Restaurant in town. Ansley gave her a pink blouse she’d been eyeing at Bealls in La Grange. Her favorite gift—besides the car, of course—was a silver ring that Skylar gave her. There was a beautiful angel on it, tiny and delicate. Even though Skylar didn’t mention it, Mom spoke up and said that the ring had belonged to Skylar’s mother.
“Are you sure, Skylar?” Grace asked her. She thought about all the time she’d spent with Skylar this past week, and in addition to the science project, they’d talked a lot. About Skylar’s family. About Grace’s family. And other things that were hard for Grace to talk about.
“She’ll keep you safe and strong.” Skylar smiled, and they both knew what she was referring to.
“Thank you,” she said to Skylar before she turned to each of them. “Thank you all so much.”
Grace knew she was blessed with a great family, and now a new friend. And she had a new car. Life was perfect.
Chapter Seven
Darlene snuggled up to Brad in bed later that night. “Do you think Grace had a good birthday?”
Brad yawned. “As long as there was a car involved, she was going to have a good birthday.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Yes, I think she had a great day. And your meal was fantastic, complete with a famous guest, who by the way”—Brad’s voice rose in pitch—“wasn’t anything like you said. I thought she was very nice.”
“I bet you did.” She teasingly pinched him on the arm. “She’s beautiful, no doubt. But I’m telling you, she warmed up to me a lot the other night when I dropped her dress off.” She paused. “I wonder why she never told me who she was.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Next Saturday night is that gala, right? Are you going to say anything to her?”
“I don’t know. I guess I should. Something like, ‘Hey, Layla, I didn’t know you were famous.’ Is that what you had in mind?” She smiled as she eased away from him, fluffing her pillow as Brad flipped television channels. “I hope you’re not looking for a Layla Jager movie.”
“Sometimes those movies are on one of the cable channels late at night.”
Darlene snatched the remote control.
“Hey, give me that.” He reached for it, but Darlene clicked the TV off and put the remote on the nightstand.
On Monday morning, Darlene rushed to the front door but turned when she heard Chad coming down the stairs.
“What about breakfast?”
The desperation in his voice should have been amusing, but she was running late this morning. “Chad, eat some cereal. Make some toast. You’re a big boy, I’m sure you can find something to eat.” She grabbed her purse from the hutch by the entryway.
“I’ll get Ansley to make me something, or I’ll threaten to eat her eggs.”
“Be nice, Chad. I’m leaving.” She looked over her shoulder. “I love you. Have a good day.”
On the way to work, she thought about what a great day they’d all had yesterday. After church, Brad and the kids had surprised her by taking her to lunch at Scotty and Friends to celebrate her new job. It was Darlene’s favorite place to eat a burger in Round Top. The kids had all chipped in and bought her a new purse—one that both Grace and Ansley said would be more stylish now that she was working. Brad said he’d ordered her something, but it hadn’t come in yet.
But yesterday’s Scripture readings at church had left her feeling a bit unsettled. Proverbs 31:27—She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.
Wasn’t that what she was doing—taking care of her household, not being idle?
But the next part of that Scripture reading made her question her choices. Proverbs 31:28—Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.
Would her husband and children still praise her if dinner wasn’t on time, the house clean, clothes washed, and things handled in a way that Darlene had always taken pride in?
Maybe her husband and children should have appreciated her efforts a little more.
She cringed, gripping the steering wheel, as the thought assaulted her. Then came that feeling of being torn between her life as mother and wife . . . and her new venture at the school.
In reality, was she just shifting her motherly duties to a new group of young people, who in essence wouldn’t appreciate her efforts either?
So why take on a job outside of the home?
She could say it was for independence—partly true. And she could say the extra income would be nice—also true. But deep down, she knew there was another reason. She wanted Brad to be proud of h
er. He’d never given her any reason to think that he wasn’t proud of everything she’d accomplished as a homemaker—and maybe it was her own hang-up—but the feeling was still there.
She gave her head a little shake. All of the unnecessary analyzing had made it start to ache. Her job was enjoyable. The employees were nice, Myrna was great, and she felt like she was doing something important. So she focused on the mini-breakthrough she’d had with Cara on Friday and refused to let worry bring her down.
The group session flew by in the morning with all of the children and teachers in attendance. Cara disrupted the class several times when she tried to talk to Darlene about Ansley and the chickens. Darlene promised her that they would talk later, during their one-on-one class.
By the time the afternoon rolled around, Cara was talking so fast that Darlene could barely understand her. “Cara, honey . . . slow down so I can understand you.”
Cara shook her head hard several times, then tried to start again, but frustration won out and she started to cry. It was the first time Darlene had seen her cry. Darlene reached for her hand, but Cara jerked away and let out a low groan.
“Why don’t we try one of your math problems, then we’ll talk about the chickens?” She eased the math workbook in front of Cara, but Cara pushed it away and cried harder. “Chickens,” was all she managed to get out between sobs.
Darlene thought for a few moments. “Why don’t we draw a picture of the chickens? Do you think you can do that?”
Cara sniffled as she nodded.
Darlene was relieved that her crying was easing up. She wanted to hug her like she would anyone who was upset, but Cara didn’t like to be touched. Darlene quickly found a pad of paper in the pile of work for the day. She pushed it toward Cara, along with a pencil. “Do you know how to draw a chicken?”
Cara had Darlene’s photo album in one hand. She put it down on the table and picked up the pencil. Then she turned to Darlene. “Help me.” Darlene was surprised that Cara had spoken slowly and clearly.
“Okay. I can help you draw a chicken.” Darlene reached for another pencil, but Cara shook her head.
“No, no, no.” She started to cry again.
Darlene put the pencil down. “Okay.” She wasn’t sure what to do.
Cara pointed the pencil at Darlene’s chest, tears streaming down the little girl’s cheeks. She said something very fast, but Darlene didn’t understand her. She seemed to be repeating the same thing over and over, the pencil still pointed at Darlene. Darlene had been told that Cara could become violent, and now Cara had a very sharp pencil pointed at her.
“Cara . . . can . . . you . . . talk . . . very . . . slowly . . . like . . . I . . . am?” Darlene’s heart was racing, but she didn’t move.
Cara put the pencil down and opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Just say your words very slowly so I can understand you, and I’ll help you with whatever you want.”
“Ansley’s chickens.”
Darlene took a deep breath. “Do you want to draw Ansley’s chickens?”
“No.” Cara squeezed her eyes shut. “I want to see Ansley’s chickens.”
“You want to see Ansley’s chickens?”
Cara smiled, nodding her head.
Darlene thought about how all this had started. If she’d known Cara would become so consumed with the chickens, she would have never mentioned them. “Well, uh . . .”
Cara touched the top of Darlene’s hand, her eyes glistening with hope.
“Okay. Let’s do all your work, and we’ll ask your dad if you can see Ansley’s chickens sometime.”
Cara eased her hand away. “You are a mother.”
Darlene smiled. “Yes.”
Cara picked up her pencil and did every math problem Darlene gave her . . . and every lesson for the rest of the afternoon.
Dave eased up to the door of The Evans School, then peered through the glass pane. He’d been coming in the side door that went directly to Cara’s room for months. It was easier than coming through the main entrance, and Myrna didn’t mind. Darlene was talking to Cara, and his daughter was laughing— just like she was last Friday when Dave had arrived to pick her up. The jury was still out on this new teacher, but seeing her and Cara laughing together brought a smile to his face. He opened the door, closing it behind him. Darlene and Cara turned to face him, both of them still laughing.
“More laughter. That’s always good to hear.” Dave walked up to Cara, leaned down, and kissed her on the forehead. “Another good day?”
Darlene spoke up as Cara nodded. “We were talking about the chickens again.”
Dave had heard about chickens all weekend long, and he’d buy Cara an army of them if she really wanted them. At the moment, though, he was wondering if there was any work getting done. His expression must have shown his concern.
“Cara did all of her work, plus she did some of tomorrow’s assignments also.” Darlene’s blue eyes gleamed as she spoke. It was hard not to smile at her enthusiasm about Cara’s progress. But this was only Darlene’s second week. What was she going to do the first time Cara threw a fit about something, or if she hummed all day long, or refused to do anything? Dave loved his daughter more than life, but he knew how challenging she could be.
Dave straightened. “Well, it sounds like another good day.”
Darlene stood up, then bent at the waist and spoke to Cara. “Cara, I need to talk to your dad. Can you sit here by yourself for a minute?”
Cara didn’t look up, but concern filled Dave’s mind. Maybe Darlene was already going to quit. Dave recalled the way he treated Cara’s last teacher, Mae. Looking back, he knew he had been way too hard on her. And the last thing Cara needed was another change. He followed Darlene as she motioned him to the other side of the room. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a whisper.
“Oh, nothing’s wrong. I just didn’t want to mention this in front of Cara. I didn’t want to put you on the spot, but . . .” She tucked her shoulder-length blond hair behind her ears and leaned forward. “Do you think that Cara could come see my daughter’s chickens?”
“At your house?” He didn’t like the thought of Darlene taking Cara somewhere in a car away from the school, especially since she wasn’t familiar with Cara’s unpredictable temperament.
“I told her that if she did all of her work we might be able to do that.” Darlene smiled, and Dave felt his blood pressure rising.
“So you bribed her?”
Her smile faded, and she bit her bottom lip for a moment. “I guess, in a way. She was so fixated on the chickens, I thought maybe a trip to see them might motivate her.”
“I don’t think you should have promised her that before you asked me about it.”
She hung her head for a moment and sighed, then she looked up at him. “I know. I thought about that the minute I said it, but . . .” She paused, folding her arms across her chest, then grinned. “Since you reward her with ice cream after a bad day, I thought a trip to see the chickens after a good day might be nice.” Her mouth spread into a wider smile.
Dave opened his mouth to tell her she was out of line, but then he thought about Mae. Cara seemed to like Darlene, so he didn’t want to run her off. But she had a lot of nerve. Even so, it wasn’t worth a battle with her right now about his parenting tactics. “I’m not comfortable with you taking Cara away from the school to your house.” He paused. “Not yet. You don’t really know Cara, and anything can happen. She can be unpredictable.”
She pulled her eyes from his, twisted her mouth to one side, then sighed. “I know you’re right. I’m sorry I promised her that. It’s just that . . .” She bit her lip again and shifted her weight. “I took this job because I wanted to make a difference, and I was just trying to connect with Cara. I really am sorry.”
Dave had seen the pictures of Darlene’s family. He was curious if she took this job for the money, or if she was telling the truth, that she really did want to make a difference in Cara�
�s life. He just wasn’t sure how to pose the question . . . that is, at least not with tact. But this woman was going to be spending more time with Cara than he was, so he decided just to be honest. “Most of the teachers are either here for the money, or this small school is just a dot on their résumé, a step toward a larger facility. Why are you here? Why is it important for you to make a difference in Cara’s life when”—he paused, rubbed his chin— “when you have your own family?”
She glanced back at Cara, who was sitting patiently, much to Dave’s surprise. Then she turned to face him again. “My kids are twelve, sixteen, and seventeen. They don’t need me the way they used to.” She smirked. “Except they seem to be suddenly unhappy that they aren’t getting a cooked breakfast in the mornings, and they’re having to help with the housework.” She waved a hand in the air. “Anyway, I’ve always been a stay-at-home mom, and if I was going to work outside of the home, I wanted it to be doing something besides shuffling papers. Something important.”
Dave could tell by the conviction in her voice that she had given him an honest answer, but as was his way, he badgered her one more step. “Are you trained in special education?”
“No. I’m not.” She blew out a heavy breath of air. “I know I’m the only teacher to work here who doesn’t have a degree or special ed training, and if you don’t want me working with Cara, I’d be disappointed but I’d understand.”
Dave couldn’t believe it when her eyes started to water up. Finally, someone who really did seem to care about Cara’s well-being.
“What would you think if Cara and I just followed you to your house and had a quick look at the chickens?”
She brought one hand to her chest, smiling. “I think that would be great.”
Dave held up a finger. “But . . . I better warn you. Cara gets focused on something, and then she never lets go of it. Like with jewelry.” He glanced at her left hand. “Sorry you’re not able to wear your wedding ring around her.”
“That’s okay.” Then she leaned closer to him, whispering, “You know, Cara might have forgotten about visiting the chickens, so we don’t have to mention it. She seemed content talking about and drawing the birds. But I wanted to say something to you privately in case she did say something about a visit.”
