Rachel blinked back unshed tears of empathy. More than once she’d wished for a similarly comforting vision. Like the day her stalwart father had passed away unexpectedly when she was hardly more than a child herself.
Or the night Craig had informed her he wasn’t going to marry any woman who couldn’t promise to give him the sons he needed to carry on his family name.
Chapter Six
Completing that first week of the fall semester left Rachel so drained she almost didn’t get up early enough on Sunday to make it to church. If she hadn’t laid out a favorite jacketed sundress the night before, she might not have managed to pull herself together in time.
Sunday school was nearly over when she dashed through the door to the main sanctuary and plopped down in a rear pew to wait for the morning worship service to begin. She’d barely caught her breath when her mother joined her, accompanied by Hannah Brody.
“Mom! Hi.” Rachel gave Martha a brief hug, then glanced past her to speak to the other woman, too. “Good morning, Hannah. How are you?”
“Fair to middlin’,” the heavy-set woman said.
“Did you bring Samantha with you?”
“Sure did. If there ever was a kid needed Sunday school teachin’, it’s that one. She’s ‘bout to drive me crazy.”
Rachel leaned closer and took care to speak very softly. “Is she still seeing things?”
“That, and more,” the foster mother said. “Now she’s sayin’ that you and that Bates fella are angels, too! I’ve never seen the like.”
“Me? An angel?” Rachel snickered. “Not hardly.”
Martha was smiling, too. “I can vouch for that.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime. Want me to have a talk with the little girl and tell her what a trial it’s been to raise you?”
“I think we can skip that much frankness,” Rachel said with mock cynicism. “Teachers are supposed to set good examples. I wouldn’t want you to destroy my positive image.”
“Of course not.” Martha reached over and patted her daughter’s hand. “Hannah tells me that that poor baby has been through some heavy trials. I suppose it’s natural for her to latch on to you. I’m glad you can be there for her.”
Martha’s sentence had trailed off, leaving Rachel wondering what had remained unspoken. She prodded, “But…?”
Sighing, Martha stared off at the distant altar as if making a decision, then answered. “But, you need to remember that you can’t always be a part of her life the way you are now. It’s not wise to let yourself get too attached to any of your students, honey. I’ve seen you do it before. Letting them go when the year is over is always a lot harder on you than it is on them.”
“If I didn’t have compassion, I wouldn’t be nearly as good at my job.”
“Maybe so. And maybe the opposite is true.” Martha took her daughter’s hand. “You also need to be fair. Can you really do that if you’re overly fond of one or two of your students?”
“I’m not overly fond of anybody,” Rachel argued. “My whole class is important to me. Teaching is my life. I wish I could make you understand that.”
“I do understand it,” Martha replied. “I felt the same way when I was your age. My job at the county clerk’s office gave me a wonderful sense of accomplishment—and more money than I’d ever had growing up. Looking back, I’m still thankful I worked there, but not for those same reasons.”
“I know. That’s where you met Dad.” Rachel had heard many versions of the story and they all led to the same conclusion.
“Yes. But that isn’t what I’m trying to say this time. Things change. People change. Chances for added happiness come and go. If I hadn’t met your father, I wouldn’t have you.” She smiled wistfully. “And I wouldn’t give that up for anything. Until you’ve had children of your own, you’ll never understand how special you are to me.”
Children, again. Rachel’s heart twisted. Buried disappointment gave her voice a sharper edge than she’d intended when she said, “If you wanted grandchildren, Mom, you should have let me have the brothers and sisters I kept asking for.” The distressed look that suddenly came over Martha was a surprise.
Glancing beyond her mother, Rachel saw Hannah give a barely perceptible shake of unspoken warning.
Thoughtful, Rachel sat back in the pew, eyes forward and hands folded in her lap as if the service had already begun. How odd. In all the times she and Martha had argued the merits of motherhood, she’d never seen her get teary-eyed before. Was it possible she’d wanted more than one child?
Was it possible she’d been unable to conceive a second time? Or a first? Rachel’s breath caught. Was I adopted?
Her head snapped around and she stared at Martha. No, that wasn’t the problem. It couldn’t be. She and her mother looked enough alike to be sisters, taking into account their age difference. So why was her mom suddenly acting upset? Too bad this wasn’t the right time or place to ask.
Resigned to wonder, at least for the present, Rachel glanced at her watch, then smiled at the women beside her. “It’s getting late. I think I’ll wander down the hall toward the Sunday school rooms and pick up Samantha so she doesn’t get lost in the rush. Be back in a flash.”
Rather than give anyone a chance to object, she quickly got to her feet. The sanctuary was filling up, as usual, and there was a hum of muted conversation as families milled around in the aisles, searching for enough unoccupied space so they could all sit together.
Being short, Rachel couldn’t see past the nearest parishioners. She smiled, offered an all-inclusive “Excuse me,” and stepped out into the crowded center aisle.
Someone jostled her. Touched her arm from behind. Her first thought was that Sean Bates had changed his mind and come to church, after all! Excited in spite of herself, she turned and looked up with an expectant, jubilant smile.
The smile quickly faded. Standing there, grinning down at her like a sated cat with bird feathers still clinging to its whiskers, was Craig Slocum.
Rachel was deeply grateful that her concern for Samantha had provided a ready-made excuse to gracefully escape from Craig. His smug expression had instantly made her so furious she doubted she’d have been able to come up with anything else socially acceptable.
By the time she reached the kindergarten Sunday school room she’d pulled herself together. Most of the children had already left. She peered in the open door. Samantha had stayed behind and was helping the teacher straighten the chairs.
“Hi,” Rachel said, smiling.
Samantha’s eyes widened. She squealed, “Miss Rachel!” forgot everything else and raced across the room.
Rachel bent down to welcome the child and was immediately caught in a possessive embrace. Samantha’s thin arms wound around her neck and she clung as if she planned never to let go.
“I’m glad to see you, too,” Rachel said. She straightened with the little girl in her arms and balanced the extra weight on one hip. “Did you like Sunday school?”
“Uh-huh. How come you’re not my teacher?”
“I am. In regular school. Don’t you want me to have a little time off?”
“I guess so.” Samantha’s eyes remained bright and curious. “Is this where you live?”
“At church?” Rachel laughed softly, her tone gentle. She was used to having students ask her if she lived at the school because that was where she was every time they saw her, but she’d never been asked if she lived at the church. “No, honey. I live in a regular house. Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“Oh.” Remembering Hannah’s earlier mention of Samantha’s angel fixation, Rachel assumed that might be the underlying reason for the question. Since angels were spiritual beings, they might live in a church—it was a logical conclusion for a five-year-old.
“Would you like Mrs. Brody to bring you to see my house someday? I have a dog, Schatzy, you could play with.”
“You have a dog? Really?”
“Yes. And a cat. Muffi
n. But she’s pretty old so she isn’t nearly as much fun. She gets kind of grumpy sometimes.”
“Mrs. Brody is old, too.”
Amused, Rachel followed the childish reasoning. “And grumpy?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, I know she doesn’t mean to be.”
“I wish I could come live with you,” Samantha said. Her grasp on Rachel’s neck tightened.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. If I took my whole class home with me, poor Schatzy would go crazy. Besides, you see me in school every day.”
“What if I have to move? I do that a lot, since…”
“I know, honey,” Rachel said, gently stroking her back to comfort her. “Don’t worry, okay? Everything will be fine.”
“Promise?” There was a quaver in Samantha’s voice.
“I promise.”
Rachel knew she had no business promising happiness to anyone, let alone a child caught in the midst of life’s trials. Yet she couldn’t help herself. Not in this case. There was no way to make a five-year-old understand that sometimes bad things happened for good reasons. Convincing grown-ups of that concept was hard enough, even though it had a basis in scripture.
“Humph,” Rachel mumbled as she made her way back to the pew where her mother and Hannah waited. Grown-ups is right. I believe that God is in charge of my life, yet half the time I don’t understand why bad things have to happen, so how can I hope to explain it to anyone else, let alone a child?
She looked up. Her steps slowed. Speaking of bad things… Apparently, it wasn’t even safe to come to church anymore. Not with her mother and Mrs. Brody in the same congregation.
Assessing the situation, Rachel stared. Martha and Hannah had scooted farther into the pew to make more room. The problem was, Craig was now sitting with them and the only empty space left was right next to him! Well, it was going to stay empty.
Continuing to hold Samantha, she approached the others. “I’ve decided to take my little friend to Children’s Church.”
“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Martha asked with a sidelong glance toward Craig.
“Probably not,” Rachel said. “You know me. I get along with kids better than I do with adults. I’ll probably stay to help whoever is running the program this morning.”
That said, she spun around and headed back down the aisle toward the haven beyond the official sanctuary. There was nothing wrong with worshiping the Lord in the company of children, she assured herself. After all, their faith was pure, not all cluttered up with ritual and hidden agendas the way many adults’ was.
“Mine included,” she murmured.
Samantha noticed. “What?”
“Nothing, honey.” Rachel gave her a parting hug, bent to set her back on her feet, then released her and took her hand. “Come on. You and I are going to a special church service just for kids.”
“I know,” the child told her, looking up with innocent adoration. “Angels always do.”
By the time the main worship service concluded and Rachel rejoined her mother, Craig was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t help showing relief.
“Here’s your purse and your Bible,” Martha said, holding them out. “You left them here when you ran off.”
“I didn’t run anywhere,” Rachel said. “I walked.”
“There’s more ways to run than with your feet,” her mother argued. “Well, no matter. Craig’s long gone. You missed your chance.”
“Thank heavens for small favors.”
Martha sighed. She eyed the petite blond girl clinging to her daughter’s hand and gazing up at her lovingly. “Speaking of small, how did you two like Children’s Church?”
“We had a lovely time, didn’t we, Samantha?”
The child nodded.
“Hannah and I were talking about going out for Sunday dinner at Linden’s Buffet,” Martha said. “Would you like to join us?”
“What about Hank?” Rachel asked. She knew Hannah’s husband well enough to be sure he wouldn’t appreciate being left out of any meal, let alone an all-you-can-eat buffet.
“Went fishin’ out to the lake,” Hannah said. “Serves him right for leavin’ me home alone. ‘Sides, he took every bit o’ the chicken I’d fried. Didn’t even leave me a cold ole drumstick.”
“In that case, I think you definitely deserve a restaurant meal,” Rachel said, smiling. “I’d love to come along.” She felt the child’s grip on her hand tighten. “We both would. Wouldn’t we, Samantha?”
“Okay,” Hannah said. “But she rides with me. That’s the rules. I been at this fostering business long enough to know better’n to break ’em.” She held out a hand. “Come on, Sam. Let’s go.”
The little girl hesitated. Rachel looked down kindly. “She’s right, honey. She’s responsible for you. I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I promise.”
Instead of arguing as she’d expected, Samantha went straight to Hannah. She trusts me, Rachel thought. Completely. And because of that she also trusts Hannah. That was a new development, a very welcome one.
Rachel’s eyes met the foster mother’s, paused, then went to Martha’s. Understanding flowed among them. Everyone knew what had just happened. Rachel rejoiced. What better place than in church to learn that her efforts were being rewarded.
And what better place to give thanks. She blinked slowly, reverently, silently grateful for the clear confirmation that she was doing the right thing in regard to the lonely child. No matter what anyone said, she knew she’d been meant to help Samantha. And that was exactly what she intended to continue doing.
Linden’s Buffet was located in a strip mall in East Serenity, well away from the older part of town. On Sunday mornings the restaurant opened at eleven to accommodate the after-church crowd, then closed early. With such a brief window of opportunity, the buffet was always swamped, especially right after noon.
Martha rode over with Hannah and Samantha. Rachel thought it would be best to reinforce the foster mother’s authority by driving separately. Slowed by the only traffic light in the entire town and unable to find a parking place on her first circuit through the Linden’s lot, she entered a few minutes after the others. They’d already been seated. Samantha and Hannah were on one side of the table. Martha was alone on the other.
Breathless and grinning, Rachel joined them. “Whew! Thanks for saving me a seat. I’ve never seen this place so busy.”
Martha made a face. “You don’t get out much, do you.”
“Not on Sunday mornings. You know very well I usually go straight home after church, change clothes and work in the yard. My garden gets away from me if I don’t.” Her smile widened. “Which reminds me. I have another batch of ripe zucchini for you, Mom.”
“Oh, goody.” There was no doubt of the older woman’s sarcasm.
Rachel giggled. “I knew you’d be thrilled. I suppose I can spare a few vine-ripened tomatoes to go with it, providing you’ll promise to take the squash off my hands, too.”
“’Course I will.” Martha winked at Hannah. “The last squashes she gave me were big enough to use as baseball bats!”
“I’ll take some if you really have too many,” Hannah said.
“Sure do.” Rachel laughed at the scrunched-up face Samantha was making. She leaned closer to say, “It’s very good for you,” but the child’s expression didn’t improve. Obviously, there were some barriers that even a pseudo-angel couldn’t overcome, zucchini consumption being one of them.
“Well, shall we go fill our plates before all the food is gone?” she asked.
“I’ll wait here with the purses and order our drinks when the waitress finally gets around to us,” Hannah offered. She gave the little girl beside her a pat and a kindly smile. “You can go ahead with Miss Rachel if you want to, Sam.”
Rachel mouthed a silent Thank you, and held out her hand. Samantha immediately latched on to it, and they both followed Martha toward the steaming buffet tables.
“I’m going to sta
rt with salad,” Rachel said, looking down at the child to check her reaction. It was predictably negative.
“Not me,” Martha said, grinning. “I’m going straight for the pizza and the Mexican stuff, like tacos.” She reached out toward the child. “Anybody who doesn’t want to eat rabbit food can come with me.”
Samantha didn’t ask Rachel, she merely looked up at her to request permission with her eyes.
“Go ahead,” Rachel told her. “I don’t mind.”
The child shyly accepted the older woman’s hand. Watching them walk off together, Rachel was struck with an impression: her mother behaving like a grandmother. She would make a wonderful one, wouldn’t she. No wonder she was so eager to see the next generation come into being.
“What I need to find is a man who already has kids,” Rachel muttered under her breath. “Like that Mitch guy Brianne Bailey married last year.”
The biggest problem was the scarcity of handsome, eligible widowers with small children. It had been years since Rachel had encountered anyone who fit that description—and she was in the perfect job to spot such a man because she’d probably meet his children first.
Slowly filling her salad plate, she let her mind wander. It wasn’t until Martha hurried over and grabbed her arm that she realized she’d been holding up the line by daydreaming.
“Did you see her?” Martha asked.
“See who?”
“Samantha. One second she was right next to me and the next she was gone.”
Rachel frowned, forced herself to concentrate. “Calm down, Mom. What do you mean, she’s gone? She can’t be gone. She wouldn’t just leave us like that.”
“Then, she’s been kidnapped! Oh dear. Oh my. It’s all my fault. I only took my eyes off her long enough to pick up a slice of pizza.”
“She hasn’t been kidnapped,” Rachel assured the panicky woman. “She’s around here somewhere. She has to be. Maybe she went back to Hannah. Come on. Let’s start by looking there.”
Though she was outwardly calm, Rachel couldn’t help the telltale tremor in her hands as she carried her salad to their table and set it at her place.
Blessings of the Heart and Samantha's Gift Page 22
