Another Way Home

by Deborah Raney

  She took a detour past the dayroom where the greenish glow of the television told her Misty probably had been found. Sure enough, Berta came from the room and met her in the hallway.

  “We’re going to take a quick bath,” Danae explained.

  Berta frowned. “You should let his mother do that.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “It’s not that, Danae. It’s her responsibility. Not ours. This isn’t a babysitting service.”

  Feeling chastened, she nodded. “OK. I’ll take him to her. Is it OK if I help? Since she doesn’t know where things are yet?”

  “Of course. She just doesn’t need to be sitting on her butt in front of the TV while we play babysitter and laundress.”

  Berta had volunteered for many years at a homeless shelter in Kansas City before moving to Cape Girardeau, and while Danae had discovered that the woman had deep compassion for underdogs and for the down-and-out, she also had no sympathy for anyone who wasn’t willing to better themselves when they’d been given an opportunity.

  “I’ll be back in a little bit.” Danae picked up Austin, wrinkling her nose at the pungent odor, and asked Berta over his head, “Were there any more pajamas his size in the bins?”

  “I’ll see what I can find and bring them down.”

  “Thanks.” She carried Austin down the hall to the dayroom. Misty seemed oblivious to them over the low drone of the TV.

  “Mama?” He lurched from Danae’s arms and stretched toward his mother.

  Danae eased him to the floor.

  Misty jerked around. “What are you doing up, Oz?” The look she shot Danae was not one of appreciation.

  “I’m gonna take a baff.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s the middle of the night. You get back in bed.”

  “Misty.” Danae moved behind Austin and waited until his mother looked at her, then mouthed, “He wet the bed.”

  She shrugged. “That happens almost every night.”

  “Why don’t we run a warm bath? It’ll help him sleep. Berta’s looking for another clean pair of pjs, and I’ll change the sheets while you bathe him.”

  For a minute Danae thought Misty was going to argue, but she crawled off the dayroom couch with a sigh and headed toward their room. Misty had been given one of the family rooms that had its own bath, and Danae went through the room to the bath and started water running in the low tub.

  Misty turned Austin to face her and pulled off his blood-stained T-shirt and undershirt. She tossed them in a corner. “Take off your jeans, too, baby.”

  Danae gathered the clothes into a pile. “We can run these through the wash.” She held up the shirt and undershirt and inspected them. “Might as well throw these out. That blood will be pretty well set—”

  “No!” Misty snatched the shirt from her hand. “That’s the only thing he’s got to wear. I’ll just wash them out in the sink here. Done it enough times when we couldn’t get to the Laundromat.”

  “Oh, OK. Well . . . I guess we can put them to soak in the washing machine. I think there’s some stain removal stuff in the laundry room. You finish up his bath and I’ll go get a load started and make up his bed with fresh sheets,” she said brightly.

  “I hope the mattress didn’t get wet. He clean ruined his one at home.”

  “It’ll be OK. We have waterproof covers on all the beds here.” Didn’t everyone have those?

  She didn’t want to seem condescending to this young mother, but the woman seemed clueless. And oblivious to her responsibilities.

  Of course she was. She’d just been through a nightmarish situation. And now she was in an unfamiliar house in a strange town, apparently with only the clothes on her back, and likely no idea how she was going to support herself and her son. Give her a break, Danae chided herself.

  And still, the first thought that pressed in on her was that this woman had a child she could barely take care of, one she’d put in harm’s way, whether intentionally or not. Meanwhile, she and Dallas waited and longed desperately for a baby.

  It took all the willpower she had to force the thoughts from her mind. This volunteer gig would do her no good if she only used it as an excuse to whine and grow bitter. This was about getting her mind off her own troubles and making someone else’s life a little better. It was about being a blessing instead of a burden. Help me live that out, Lord. Please . . . I’m not doing so hot on my own.

  It was after midnight when they finally had the little boy settled back in bed. Misty insisted she wasn’t tired and parked herself back in front of the TV in the dayroom. Danae seethed. It was obvious Austin was upset and frightened. Why didn’t his mother go comfort him?

  Still, the training had emphasized that the shelter wasn’t a prison, and that the goal wasn’t to try to impose their own ideas on the residents. They were free to come and go as they pleased and within limits, they were free to conduct themselves as they pleased. The only inviolable rule was that they keep the shelter location a secret for the security of all.

  She went to the foyer and looked out the arched window in the front door. It was almost one a.m. and the fog wasn’t as dense now, but since Sherry wasn’t coming in, and Dallas wasn’t expecting Danae home until morning, she relaxed and resigned herself to spending the night. She hadn’t yet worked an early morning shift, and it would be a good experience to see how things went.

  Berta insisted she take the empty bedroom in the basement. It felt odd to be sleeping here. She felt vulnerable and unsettled, but it struck her that what she was feeling was a fraction of what any of the women coming here must feel the first night they stayed overnight.

  The economy sheets were scratchy against her skin, but they were clean and she buried her nose in them, trying to mask the dank odors of the basement. She drifted to sleep feeling grateful for the chance to experience this day and hopeful it would make her more sensitive to the women the shelter would serve in the future.

  A gentle wave of—was it contentment?—washed over her. She let it lift her. There were thousands of hurting women in the world, and she would never be able to reach even a fraction of them. But tonight, just for a few minutes, she’d made a difference. She couldn’t wait to share her experience with Dallas.

  10

  Dad, where are you setting up the apple-bobbing station?” Danae loosened the strings on her hood and buttoned the red cape. They’d skipped Tuesday night family night in lieu of a Harvest Open House at Chicory Inn, an alternative to Halloween for the kids of the community.

  Her dad turned from where he was lighting lanterns on the front porch. “Well, don’t you look cute,” he said, tugging on one of her braids. “What are you supposed to be?”

  “Dad! Duh . . .” She held out the picnic basket she carried and pulled her hood up. “I’ll give you a clue: I came with a Big Bad Wolf.”

  “Ah! I get it now.” He looked past her and started laughing. “And there’s the big bad cheese.”

  Danae turned to see her brother-in-law in a Wisconsin cheese hat, yellow tights, and a sandwich board that looked like Swiss cheese. “Jesse! That’s hilarious.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Talk to your sister. She’s the one who coerced me into this.”

  She fished her camera out of the basket and snapped a picture.

  He deflected the flash with an upheld palm. “That had better not show up on Facebook!”

  “No promises,” she said, still snickering. “Where’s the rest of the family?”

  He pointed toward the house, and at that moment, the door opened and Corinne herded out three little stair-step girls dressed in gray sweat suits. From their long tails and whiskers, Danae guessed they were mice. Then she saw the masks covering their eyes. “Three blind mice! How adorable!” She eyed her sister quizzically. “And you are?”

  Corinne, wearing one of CeeCee’s frumpy house dresses with a frilly apron tied at her waist, pulled a giant cardboard “carving knife” from behind her back. “The farmer’s wife,” she said, st
raight-faced. “Who else?”

  Danae clapped and made them pose for a picture with the “big cheese.” Jesse was a good sport and let the littlest mouse climb up on his cheese board. Simone’s mask was askew so that one eye peeked over it. It made a darling photo.

  And it made Danae long for the day she and Dallas would be dressing up little “mice” of their own for a harvest party. She steeled herself against the feelings that always came when the family gathered and she and Dallas were the only couple without kids.

  “Have you seen the twins yet?” Corinne asked.

  “Not yet. Are they dressed up?”

  Corinne grinned. “Just wait till you see. But Landyn is going nuts trying to get everything perfect. If you want to go help her and Mom inside, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

  Tonight’s party had been Landyn’s idea, a safe way for the grandkids to celebrate Halloween, and a chance to get people to the inn with hopes that touring it would spur some new bookings for parties or guests. Business had been pretty good through the summer, but Mom confided that things had fallen off a little recently.

  “Jesse, have you seen Dallas?”

  “You mean that scraggly wolf that wandered through the yard?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “He’s out back, getting the fire pit ready.”

  “Thanks.”

  She started up the steps to the front porch, but ran back to the driveway to snap a photo of the inn before it was completely dark. The place looked beautiful in the dusky autumn light, the woods making a perfect backdrop behind it. Dad had worked his holiday magic with lights strung all across the porch, and glowing lanterns nestled among mums and pumpkins along the sidewalks and fences. Even Huckleberry was dressed for the occasion with a pumpkin-colored bandana tied around his neck.

  Watching the kids, Danae thought about little Austin at the women’s shelter. Berta had told her the shelter didn’t participate in Halloween because of safety concerns. Since the safe house, Cape Haven, was hidden away in a residential neighborhood, that meant they had to turn out the lights and pretend no one was home. “We’ll have a movie night in the dayroom,” Berta had said. “Make a party of it ourselves.” But Danae doubted that would be much fun for Austin.

  She hadn’t worked since last Friday, but she hoped someone would think to take Austin trick-or-treating in the neighborhood, at least to a few houses. Of course, Misty probably wouldn’t appreciate having her three-year-old on a sugar high. But still, it made her sad to think of him missing out on the festivities.

  She opened the front door and her brother almost bowled her over on his way out. “Link! Where’s your costume? Come on, get into the spirit, will you?” she teased.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I don’t want to show anybody up, you know?”

  “Yeah, right. You just couldn’t come up with anything clever enough. Rumor has it Dad has a prize for the best costume.”

  Link frowned, looking skeptical.

  “A cash prize.”

  “Seriously? Man, that might be worth getting in on.” He did an about face and led the way back into the house.

  Danae laughed and gave him a brotherly shove.

  He ignored her, but asked over his shoulder. “Have you seen the dice yet?”

  “Dice?”

  A big grin spread across his face. “Follow me. This is going to be a tough act to beat.”

  He led the way to the kitchen where Landyn and Chase stood wearing white cardboard boxes painted to look like dice, and feeding two smaller “dice”—the seven-month-old twins dressed in white Onesies with rows of black felt circles sewn on their fronts and backs.

  “Would you look at that!” Danae crowed. “A full house!”

  “Actually”—Link gave an exaggerated wink—“It’s paradise. Get it? Pair. Of. Dice?”

  Danae and Mom laughed at the puns, but Landyn just groaned and handed Danae a baby spoon. “Hey, Red, would you mind taking over here?”

  “Sure. What are we eating?” Danae held up a jar and squinted at the label.

  “Squash and peaches in the jars.” Chase poked another spoonful of peaches into Emma’s eager mouth.

  “I want to put the girls down around eight before it gets too wild here,” Landyn said.

  “Too late.” Link affected a droll smile.

  Landyn fanned herself. “It’s hot in here!”

  Link sucked in a short breath. “Hey, that gives me an idea for a costume.” He bounded for the basement stairs.

  “You’ll never outdo the Yahtzee family!” Danae hollered.

  Her brother ignored her and disappeared down the stairway.

  “Is Bree coming?” Danae asked, realizing she hadn’t seen her sister-in-law yet.

  Her mom looked up from the huge bowl she was loading with candy. “She went to pick up CeeCee. They should be here any minute.”

  The back door opened and Dallas stepped through wearing his wolf mask and hairy gloves with fierce looking rubber claws. Grace and Emma took one look at him and broke into howls.

  “Dallas!” Danae put down the spoon and shook a finger at him. “You’re scaring them.”

  Looking sheepish, he yanked off his mask and smiled big at the girls. But that just made it worse, since he had fangs.

  “Take out your teeth,” Danae hissed.

  “Huh?”

  “Your fangs! Take them out.” She turned back to the babies and cooed, “It’s OK, girlies. It’s just Uncle Dallas.”

  He turned aside, removed the mouthpiece, and tucked it into his shirt pocket before approaching the high chairs, grinning and talking baby talk. “That’s right. This ol’ wolf wouldn’t hurt you—”

  The babies were having none of it. They screamed at the top of their little lungs until Landyn came running.

  “What happened?”

  Danae couldn’t help but laugh. She rose and made a production of shooing Dallas outside. “Out, Mr. Wolf,” she scolded him, for the girls’ benefit. “Get! Get outside where you belong!”

  When the wolf had been properly dispatched and the babies calmed down, Danae finished feeding them and offered to put them to bed upstairs.

  “That would be awesome, sis,” Landyn said.

  “Let me get some pictures of you guys first.”

  She wiped their tiny hands and faces and cleaned off the high chair trays. Landyn and Chase each picked up one of the “dice” and the little family posed beside a display of pumpkins and squash that Mom had arranged in a corner of the large kitchen.

  “You’re sure you don’t mind putting the girls down?” Landyn gave Danae that look of pity she was learning to loathe.

  “No, of course not. Are their pajamas up in the room?”

  “The room” was one of the inn’s guest rooms that Dad had finally designated for family after first Landyn and Chase, and more recently, Corinne and Jesse’s family had needed to move back home temporarily. As much as they’d all had trepidation about their childhood home being turned into a bed and breakfast, the Chicory Inn had been a haven when they’d needed it. For Landyn, while she and Chase put their marriage back together. For Corinne’s family, while the two couples had made the big house switch.

  Danae wondered who might need the sanctuary of the old house next.

  “Yes, pajamas and diapers too,” Landyn said. “And you don’t even have to rock them unless you just want to. They pretty much put each other to sleep these days. Just put them in the crib feet to feet and maybe sing a couple of songs, and you’re golden.”

  “OK. Come on, girlies.” She picked Emma up from the high chair and parked her on one hip, then waited while Landyn put Grace in her other arm. “Let’s go night-night with Aunt Danae.”

  She headed upstairs, nervous about tripping or dropping a baby. She was always a little self-conscious with her nieces, feeling like everyone was evaluating what kind of a mother she would be. And usually feeling like she was failing the test. Not that they ever said anything, but she
sensed their judgment.

  She was good with kids. And it would be different when she had her own. She nudged the door to the bedroom open and knelt to put the girls on the floor. They both flopped into crawling mode and made a beeline for the open door. She retrieved Emma, and by the time she turned around, Grace was escaping.

  “You silly girls,” she said in her best baby-talk voice. “You’re giving a whole new meaning to ‘roll the dice.’ ” She giggled at her own joke and made a mental note to be sure to find an opportunity to try it out on Link, which made her laugh harder thinking about it. The twins seemed to think she was laughing at them, and they upped their antics.

  “Come here, you little wiggle worm.” She scooped up one twin—three dots on the Onesie . . . that would be Emma—and plopped her into the crib, then nabbed Grace before she escaped.

  The two quickly pulled to standing and peered over the rail at her while she gathered diapers and wipes and pajamas. She didn’t know how Landyn and Chase did it. But I’d be willing to give it a go, Lord. Even twins.

  The sweetness of her youngest nieces brought tears to her eyes as she sang the same lullaby Mom used to sing to them when they were kids. Sleep my child, and peace attend thee, all through the night. They finally settled down and she took turns patting their little backs, lulling them to sleep.

  Within a few minutes, their even breaths told her they were out, but she lingered upstairs, playing the game she so often did when she had a chance to care for babies—pretending just for a minute they were her own. Making believe her prayers had been answered and her dreams had come true. She should have come dressed in costume as a mommy because that was all she really wanted to be.

  The sound of unfamiliar voices in the foyer below brought her out of her little charade, and she gave each pajamaed bottom a final pat, made sure the baby monitor was turned on, and closed the door behind her.

  She looked over the stair rail to see Mom in the foyer handing out candy to some kids who looked too old to be out trick-or-treating. Her mother had changed into a terra-cotta sweat suit and a crazy hat covered with flowers. Maybe she was supposed to be a