by Sharon Sala
Howard Lee Martin stepped out from beneath the trees on the south side of the playground, watching as the last of the children entered the school building to begin morning classes, then jammed his hands in his pockets and started walking toward home. His mind was racing, his heart pounding with anticipation. He’d seen her again. A perfect little angel. As he walked, he began making a mental list of all the things he needed to purchase before the adoption. Not for the first time, he wished he’d gotten a chance to talk to her. He didn’t know what kind of ice cream she liked best and he needed to know her favorite color. They would play dress-up. Little angels like her always liked to play dress-up. And then they would play house. Just the thought made him smile. His mother had let him make a fort under the dining room table when he was small, but little girls liked to play house, not cowboys and Indians.
As he pictured his mother, he grew sad. She’d been gone almost two years now. He thought of the two little girls he’d recently adopted and sighed. His children would never know their grandmother and that was too bad. She’d always wanted him to marry and settle down.
After she died, he’d tried to make friends, but he didn’t know how. He’d joined a church, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to approach any of the single women who attended. He’d begun hanging out at bowling alleys and coffee shops, watching the interplay between other couples and trying to figure out how it was done. Not for the first time, he thought that his mother had demanded too much of his time. He’d never had the chance to socialize with the opposite sex. It was only at his job that he’d come in contact with them, and then he’d been too shy to do more than speak.
Lately, his shyness had given way to frustration, then frustration to anger. It wasn’t fair. Everyone had someone but him. That’s when he’d decided to make his own family. Lots of single people adopted children. He read about it all the time. But the process hadn’t been as simple as he’d believed. He didn’t make enough money. He didn’t have enough education. The excuses were endless, but they all boiled down to one thing. The authorities were not going to let him adopt. So he’d taken things into his own hands and done what he had to do.
A cat dashed across the street in front of him, just ahead of a small, black dog who was in pursuit. He laughed aloud, wishing the girls had been with him. They would have enjoyed the sight. It was important for children to interact with a parent, and he looked forward to the day when the transition from their old life to the new one was complete. Right now they were shy of him, but he had to believe the day would come when they would welcome him with open arms.
He glanced at his watch, making note of the time and hastening his steps. He had a lot to do before school let out today and he didn’t want to be late. It was important to make contact several times before the day of the adoption. Children were taught not to talk to strangers, but after a few innocent meetings, his little angel would no longer view him as such.
Mary was digging through the back of her closet when the phone began to ring. Dropping the shoes she was holding, she backed out of the closet and answered the call with a breathless hello.
“Mary…are you all right? You sound like you’re out of breath.”
“Daniel… Hi honey! I’m fine…just made a dash for the phone.”
There was a note of censure in his voice. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy today but something tells me you’re not.”
“I haven’t done one worthwhile thing this morning,” she said. “I swear.” His soft chuckle tickled her ear.
“Then how about meeting me for lunch?”
“Really? I thought you had court.”
“Had it…still having it, but we’re not due back for a couple of hours.”
“What did you have in mind?” Mary asked.
“We don’t have time for what’s on my mind, but I’ll settle for looking at your pretty face over shrimp scampi.”
Mary laughed. “Just tell me where to meet you. We’ll worry about the other stuff tonight.”
“It’s a deal,” Daniel said. “You know that little Italian place a couple of blocks down from the courthouse?”
She didn’t, but wasn’t going to tell him that. “Yes, just give me enough time to call a cab.”
“Cab? What’s wrong with your car?”
Mary frowned. Another roadblock she hadn’t anticipated. She hadn’t owned a car since the day she’d seen theirs go up in smoke.
“Uh…I—”
“Don’t tell me you’ve lost your keys again,” he teased. “There’s an extra set in the top drawer of the dresser. Just drive carefully, okay?”
“Uh…yes…okay.”
“I’ll get a table. Look for me inside.”
“I will.”
“Love you, honey.”
Mary shivered as his voice softened.
“I love you, too. See you soon,” she said, and hung up the phone.
She picked up her purse, then stared at it a moment before moving toward the bed. Impulsively, she turned it upside down and dumped the contents out onto the bed. Even though she saw the ring of keys falling onto the bedspread, it felt strange to accept the fact that they were there. Her hands were shaking as she picked them up. If this was the heaven she’d been given, then she should want for nothing. Okay. So she had a car. So what? She also had a husband and a daughter that she hadn’t had two days before. Anxious now to get to Daniel, she stuffed the articles back in her bag and then hurried into the bathroom to put on some makeup and give her hair a quick brushing. A few moments later she was on her way out the front door.
The unattached garage was about twenty-five yards to the right of the house and she headed toward it at a trot. When she walked inside and saw the powder blue Jaguar in the south stall, she couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. She’d never heard a preacher talk about a heaven like this, but she wasn’t about to question another blessing. She jumped into the driver’s seat, started the engine and backed out of the garage. Within seconds, she was out of the driveway and onto the street, heading downtown toward the courthouse. The sun was warm on her face and the wind tunneling through the partially opened window played havoc with the hair that she’d brushed, but she didn’t care. How could anything as superficial as windblown hair matter when she had everything her heart desired?
Hope O’Rourke’s little backpack was bumping against her shoulders as she marched out of the school toward the bus stops. Only Hope didn’t ride a bus. She had to stand in line with the kids who were picked up by their parents and wait for the buses to leave. She craned her neck as she walked, looking for Mrs. Barnes’s bright blue van, but she didn’t see it. Her steps slowed as she sighed with disappointment. It wasn’t the first time Mrs. Barnes had been late to pick her up and she hated having to wait. It always made her a little nervous, afraid that somehow she would be forgotten.
Her teacher was busy sorting through the waiting children, making sure they got on the proper buses, so Hope slipped out of line and dawdled toward one of the benches beneath the big shade trees by the street. She knew she was supposed to wait in line, but today she was tired and hungry and wished it was Mommy who would be picking her up and not Mrs. Barnes.
She tossed her backpack onto the bench and then crawled up beside it as her eyes filled with tears. A big boy walked past her, staring at the look on her face. Embarrassed, she drew her knees up under her chin and hid her face.
“Hey there, are you all right?”
At the touch on her shoulder, Hope flinched, and then looked up. There was a very tall man kneeling on the ground in front of her. Instinctively, she pulled away and looked nervously toward her teacher, Mrs. Kristy. But Mrs. Kristy had not realized that Hope was out of line and was busy with the other students.
“It’s okay,” the man said. “I just saw you crying and wondered if you were hurt.”
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Hope said.
The man smiled and Hope thought he looked like a real clown w
ith his wide, thick lips and the funny little spaces between his teeth. Interested, in spite of her fear, she sat when she should have been moving away.
Howard Lee resisted the urge to laugh. With little girls, it was so easy. It was always so easy. They were born with an innate sense of wanting to please.
“Well, you’re right of course. You should never talk to strangers who might hurt you. But I’m not going to do that, am I?”
Hope shrugged, her gaze still riveted on the way his tongue brushed against the inside of his teeth as he talked.
“You know what?” Howard Lee asked.
Hope shook her head.
“You look like a little girl who’s about to have a birthday. Am I right?”
Hope’s eyes widened as she nodded. She was inordinately proud of the fact that she would soon be seven and a year older than a lot of the kids in her class.
“I thought so!” Howard Lee said, and clapped his hands together, as if in quick delight. “I’ll bet you’re having a party, aren’t you? Going to invite all your friends and play games and eat cake and ice cream.”
Hope’s expression fell. “I don’t think so,” she said.
Howard Lee’s mouth turned downward, giving his expression a sudden mournful look. He wanted to touch her, but knew it was far too soon. However, he couldn’t resist a quick touch to her hair as he stroked a finger down the length of one curl.
“Why, that’s just awful,” he said. “A little girl as pretty as you should have a party…lots of parties, in fact.”
Instinct kicked in as Hope retreated from the intrusion of his touch. She grabbed her backpack and slid from the bench just as her teacher suddenly realized she was missing.
Lena Kristy saw the familiar blue van pulling up at the curb and looked around for Hope O’Rourke. She frowned when she realized she was no longer in line, but when she turned around to search for her and saw her talking to a stranger, her frustration turned to fear.
“Hope! Hope! Please come here!”
Hope bolted, relieved that the responsibility of conversation had been removed. She saw Mrs. Barnes and headed for the van, but her teacher stopped her before she could get in.
“Who was that man you were talking to?” Lena asked.
Hope shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Where did he come from, dear?”
“I was crying. I didn’t see.”
Lena squatted down beside the little girl and then cupped her chin.
“Why were you crying, dear? Are you ill?”
“No,” Hope said.
“Did someone hurt you?”
“No.”
“You had to be crying for a reason. Can’t you tell me what it was?”
“Mrs. Barnes wasn’t here. I don’t like it when she’s late. It makes me sad.”
Lena sighed and gave Hope a quick hug. Anxiety was hard to deal with, especially when you’re only six.
“But she’s here now, isn’t she?” Lena said. “So off you go, and if you see that man again, you run and tell me. It’s not okay to talk to him.”
Hope nodded.
Lena ushered the child into the van and then turned around, searching the schoolyard for the man she’d seen, but he was no longer in sight. Anxious to report to her principal, she hustled the other children into their parents’ cars and then headed for the school building. Two little girls had already gone missing in Savannah and she wasn’t taking any chances. While these children were in her care, they were her babies.
“Mommy, it’s not okay to talk to strangers, is it?” Hope asked.
The curious inflection in Hope’s voice made Mary’s skin crawl. She dropped the potato she was peeling into the sink, wiped her hands on a towel and then turned to look at her daughter, who was sitting at the kitchen table. Her head was bent toward her coloring book, the cookie Hope had given her earlier was gone, and her glass of milk was half-empty. It was an innocent scene, but the question Hope asked was not.
“No, it’s not okay,” Mary said. “Why do you ask?”
Hope shrugged and discarded her red crayon for a blue one.
Mary sat down in the chair across from Hope and for a moment, simply watched the intensity on her daughter’s face. As she sat, it occurred to her that fear was not something she would have expected in heaven, and with that came the thought that her theory could be horribly flawed. If so, then she wasn’t dead, but if she wasn’t dead, then where was she?
It wasn’t the first time today that she’d experienced something disturbing, but this was the worst. And while she had no explanation for what was going on in her life, the reality of her “here and now” was too vivid to explain away as a dream.
“Did a stranger talk to you today?”
Without looking up, Hope nodded.
“Where, honey? At dance class?”
“No,” Hope said, and abandoned the blue crayon for a yellow one.
Mary sighed. If only she was more confident about this parenting business. She’d only had three months of practice at it before everything had come to an end, and even though she felt a natural and enduring love for this child she was just getting to know, she was uncertain about how to connect.
“Come sit in my lap,” Mary asked, and without urging, Hope immediately abandoned her coloring and did as Mary asked.
Mary pulled her close, wrapping her arms around the tiny girl’s shoulders and rocking her where they sat.
“Where did you see the stranger?”
“At school.” Her features crumpled. “I don’t want to go to dance class with Mrs. Barnes anymore. She’s always late. I don’t like to be last to go home.”
“Okay, sweetie, we’ll talk about dance class later. Right now I need you to tell me more about the man. Did he come to your classroom?”
“No. He was by the gate where we go home.”
“Where was Mrs. Kristy?”
Hope hesitated, knowing that it was her fault for getting out of line.
“Honey, you can tell me.”
Hope sighed. “I got out of line. Mrs. Barnes wasn’t there and I sat on the bench.”
Mary’s heart sank, thinking how swiftly a child could be lost—and in the place where she should have felt safe.
“Did Mrs. Kristy see him?”
“I don’t know. I came when she called me, Mommy. Really I did.”
“That’s good. Now tell me something else. Were you afraid of him.”
Hope shrugged. “I don’t know…maybe.”
Mary struggled with a sudden fear of her own, knowing that someone they didn’t know had violated her daughter’s naivety.
“Did he touch you?” Mary asked, and heard the tremble in her own voice.
Hope nodded.
Oh God. Oh God. “Where did he touch you, baby?”
“On my hair. He said I was pretty.” At this point, Hope looked up. “Am I, Mommy? Am I pretty?”
Mary made herself smile, but she couldn’t talk. Not yet. Not while the taste of bile was so rancid in her mouth.
“He looked like a clown,” Hope said.
For a moment, Mary started to relax. A clown. There had been a clown at school—probably in another classroom. It was okay after all.
“Oh…a clown! Did he have a funny costume?”
Hope frowned. “He wasn’t a real clown, Mommy. He just looked like one. He had yellow hair and a big mouth with holes between his teeth.”
“Holes?”
“Yes, you know…like this.”
“Oh! You mean spaces…like his teeth didn’t touch each other good.”
“Yes. Like that,” Hope said.
“What else did he say to you?” Mary asked.
“I don’t remember. Mommy, can I go outside and play until Daddy comes home?”
Mary hesitated and then nodded an okay. “But only in the backyard with the fence.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Oh, Mommy. I never play outside my fence. You know that.”
Mary made herself lau
gh, but she felt like crying as Hope bounced off her lap and bolted out the back door. She followed her to the porch, assuring herself that she was right where she’d said she’d be, and then went back inside to finish peeling potatoes.
From the window above the sink, she could see Hope swinging on her swing and sliding down the slide, but it wasn’t enough to alleviate the sick feeling in her stomach. And all the while the realization kept growing that she wasn’t in heaven after all.
Chapter 6
Daniel’s steps were weary as he entered the house, but his spirits lifted as he heard laughter and smelled the welcoming scents of their evening meal. He laid his briefcase on the hall table and then headed for the kitchen. He wanted to shower and change into some comfortable clothes, but he needed to see his girls first.
“I’m home,” he yelled, and grinned to himself when he heard his daughter squeal.
“Daddy!” she shrieked, and launched herself toward him, knowing full well he would catch her before she fell.
“Wow,” Daniel said, as he hugged her close. “That’s quite a welcome. What did I do to deserve that?”
“’Cause you’re my Daddy, that’s why.”
Daniel laughed and pretended to pinch at her nose, then looked over her shoulder toward Mary. She was trying to smile, but he could tell by the look on her face that something was amiss.
“Honey?”
She shook her head and then looked at Hope. He nodded in understanding as Mary spoke.
“Supper is ready, but you have time to change if you want.”
He set Hope down and then gave her a playful swat as she dashed toward the kitchen. As soon as Hope was out of hearing, he took Mary in his arms.
“Talk to me.”
“Hope said there was a stranger at the schoolyard gates who told her she was pretty. She said he touched her hair.”
