Читать книгу Mission: Motherhood - Marta Perry - Страница 10

Caitlyn knelt beside the bathtub, wondering how two five-year-olds in a tub could so resemble a pondful of frogs.

Amanda bounced up and down on her bottom, sending a wave of soapy water sloshing toward her sister. Josie’s squeal echoed from the tile tub surround, and she scrambled backward.

“Easy, Amanda.” She caught each twin by a slippery arm. “Don’t fall back against the spigot. That would hurt your head.”

“I won’t.” Amanda bounced again. This time the water splashed Caitlyn’s sleeve to her shoulder.

“Hey!” Smiling in spite of herself, she splashed Amanda back. “No fair. I’m still dressed, not like you.” She tickled a bare dimpled elbow, eliciting a giggle from Amanda.

“I love my bath.” That might be the first thing Josie had volunteered since Caitlyn had been here. Usually she waited for a question before speaking, or echoed what her twin had said.

“What do you like about it?” Caitlyn put a plastic doll into a red boat and zoomed it toward her small, shy niece.

Josie managed a hint of a smile. “Giving my dolls ’ventures. They like that.”

“Good idea.” She let Josie have the boat. “You give your doll an adventure with the boat, while I wash Amanda’s hair.”

Josie nodded, smiling, but Amanda’s face puckered up at the suggestion. What now? Was it ever possible to get both of them happy at the same time?

“I don’t want my hair washed.” Amanda pouted. “You’ll get soap in my eyes.”

“No, I won’t.” Although now that she considered it, she wasn’t sure how you managed to shampoo a wiggly child without disaster. “Tell you what. You show me how Grammy does it, and I’ll do exactly what you say. You be the director, okay?”

Amanda considered that for a moment, and then she nodded. “But you do ’zactly like I say.”

It was a small triumph, but she’d take it. As she shampooed and rinsed, carefully following directions, her thoughts drifted back to the afternoon. Odd, running into Steve Windham like that.

His idea of humor had been more than a little annoying. On the other hand, his concern for the girls had been obvious. And she’d taken note of the way he’d so easily averted Amanda’s tantrum by focusing her on the future instead. She’d remember that technique for the next time Amanda rebelled. And there probably would be a next time. Amanda, like her mother, seemed born to test the boundaries.

Maybe Steve had kids of his own. The thought startled her. It was certainly possible, although he hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring. And exactly why she’d taken note of that, she wasn’t sure.

With one little girl shampooed and one to go, she turned her attention to Josie, who submitted without argument to her shampoo. In a few minutes she was wrapping two wiggling bodies in one large towel.

“Oh my goodness, I’ve got an armful of eels,” she declared, rubbing wet curls. “That’s what Grammy used to say when she dried us.”

“She says that to us, too,” Amanda said. “Now pajamas, and then we’ll tell you just what you hafta do to put us to bed.”

She nodded, spraying Josie’s shoulder-length hair with conditioner before attempting to get a comb through it. This was her first attempt at getting the girls to bed on her own, and she needed all the help she could get.

Finally they were into pajamas and snuggled one on each side of her in their pink-and-white bedroom for a story. She held them close, a little surprised by the strength of affection that swept through her.

If anyone had asked, a few weeks ago, if she loved her nieces, she’d have said yes, but it would have been an abstract emotion. She’d loved them but she hadn’t known them. Now all that was changed.

“‘The Princess and the Pea,’” she read. “I remember this story. Let’s see if it’s changed any since I was a little girl.”

Amanda giggled. “Stories don’t change, Auntie Caitlyn. We read one book and then one Bible story from our Bible Storybook that you gave us for Christmas, and then we say prayers.”

She opened her mouth to say she hadn’t given them a storybook for Christmas, and then shut it again. She’d taken the easy way out and sent a check, and someone, probably Carolyn, had taken the time to buy and wrap presents and put her name on them.

Amanda’s innocent assumption made her feel—well, thoughtless, at the least. Surely she could have taken the time to find out what they wanted and buy the gifts on her own.

That faint uneasiness lingered through the stories and prayers. Caitlyn tucked matching pink quilts around them and kissed their rosy cheeks.

“Auntie Caitlyn?” Amanda was frowning. Had she gotten some part of the routine wrong?

“What is it, sweetie?” She smoothed still-damp hair back from Amanda’s face.

“Are Mommy and Daddy happy in Heaven?”

Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been that. A theological question was out of her realm. She wasn’t the person to ask. Chaplain Steve, he’d do a better job of this.

“Well, I think so. Have you talked to Grammy about it?”

She nodded. “She says God takes care of them in Heaven, so they must be happy.”

“Well, Grammy must know,” she said, grateful to have squeaked through that tricky spot.

“But how can they be?” Tears shone in her eyes. “How can they be happy without us?”

She was totally out of her depth now, and her throat was so tight she couldn’t have gotten an answer out even if she’d been able to think of one.

Fortunately her mother was there, coming quickly into the room to bend over the bed. She must have been waiting in the hall, giving Caitlyn a chance to finish the bedtime routine.

“Of course they miss you, darling.” Mama’s voice was soft. “And that might make them sad sometimes. But they know you’re happy and that we’re taking care of you, so that makes them happy, too. You see?”

Amanda nodded slowly. Caitlyn suspected the little girl wasn’t entirely satisfied, but at least she wasn’t asking any other questions that Caitlyn couldn’t answer.

Hugs and kisses all around, and then she and her mother were out in the hall, leaving the door open just a crack. “Not too much chatter, now,” Mama called as they started down the hall. “You had a big day today.”

“Thanks for coming in when you did, Mama.” She put her arm around her mother’s waist. “I didn’t know how to handle that.”

Her mother gave her a gentle squeeze. “You’ll learn by experience. That’s the only way anyone ever learns to be a parent.”

Something in her rebelled at that. She wasn’t a parent, and she didn’t intend to be here long enough to learn. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that, but she closed her lips on the words.

Her mother looked tired, too tired for the sixty-five Caitlyn knew she was. Grief, she supposed, combined with the stress of caring for two lively five-year-olds for the past six months.

“Carolyn and Dean shouldn’t have expected you to take over when they were deployed,” she said. “It was too much for you.”

Mama shrugged. “It’s made me realize I’m not as young as I used to be, that’s for sure. Taking care of two five-year-olds is a Texas-size job. But you do what you have to do. It’s not as if they had any other options.”

She wanted to say that they should have been responsible enough not to get in that position to begin with, but her mother wouldn’t hear anything critical of Carolyn.

Well, maybe her mother wouldn’t admit it, but in Caitlyn’s opinion, Carolyn had been too quick to dump her responsibilities on other people.

“Listen, would it be any use if I hired someone to help out a little? With the girls, or the house, or whatever?”

Her mother looked surprised. “That’s sweet of you, darling, but I’ll be okay now that you’re here. The two of us can handle things.”

There it was again—that assumption that she was here to stay.

“You’re not planning to go away, are you?” Her silence must have lasted too long, and her mother looked so dismayed that she couldn’t possibly do anything but deny it.

“Not now, but I have a job possibility at Children of the Day. I’m supposed to go for an interview with the director tomorrow. It’s only part-time, but I don’t want to burden you—”

“Children of the Day? That’s wonderful.” Her mother interrupted her with a hug. “You’ll love it there. I’m so pleased.”

The hug strengthened. Caitlyn hugged her mother back, but the feel of her mother’s arms was like fragile, yet strong threads tightening around her, trying to bind her to this place.

“Welcome to Children of the Day. I hope you’ll enjoy your work here.” Anna Terenkov, the founder and director of the charity, rose from behind her desk after the briefest of interviews, extending her hand.

Caitlyn blinked for a second before she stood to shake the woman’s hand. She’d met executives who prided themselves on quick decisions before, but Ms. Terenkov had them beat by a mile.

“Ms. Terenkov—”

“Please, call me Anna.” A smile banished her businesslike expression. “We’re all on a first-name basis here, volunteers and staff alike.”

“Anna.” She tried to grasp a situation that seemed to be sliding away from her. “Isn’t there anything else you’d like to ask me about my qualifications?”

The director waved that away. “I’ve seen quite enough to know you’ll be an asset to the organization. And, frankly, we’re in need of a capable person to step into the care coordinator position. That’s one job I don’t want to lay on a volunteer, and our last coordinator had to leave quite suddenly.”

That sounded ominous. Anna seemed to read her expression and laughed.

“Nothing bad, I assure you. Her husband was transferred to a post in the Northeast, and naturally she and the children went with him.”

“He was in the military, I gather.”

Anna nodded. “Almost everyone in town has some connection to Fort Bonnell, in one way or another. Now—” she rounded the desk “—let me show you our facility and get you started.”

She hadn’t imagined being hired that quickly, let alone starting, but she followed the petite blond human dynamo out of her office for a whirlwind tour of the building.

Children of the Day was housed in a gracious slate-blue Victorian on a quiet side street just off Veterans Boulevard, Prairie Springs’s main drag. Sheltered by shrubbery and a white wrought-iron fence, the charming Victorian looked more like an elegant private residence than a nonprofit foundation.

“As you can see, the first floor is dedicated to the organization.” Anna waved at the volunteer who was seated behind a desk in the welcoming lobby area. “The kitchen downstairs is for the staff and volunteers, so don’t hesitate to use it. My mother and I have our private apartment upstairs.”

“Is your mother involved with Children of the Day also?”

Anna smiled. “My mother does a little bit of everything, all with great enthusiasm. You’ll see where I get my energy when you meet her. She also runs the grief center at Prairie Springs Christian Church. I think she mentioned that your nieces are involved in her children’s program.”

Something else Caitlyn hadn’t known. She’d have to ask her mother about that. At least the twins were apparently getting some professional help.

Anna led the way to the next room. “This is Laura Dean. Laura, meet Caitlyn Villard, our new care coordinator.” Anna paused by a desk in the room behind the lobby.

“It’s nice to meet you, Caitlyn.” The slim young blonde flashed a welcoming smile. “Especially since I’m sure you’re going to take some of the load off my shoulders.”

“Laura is officially our secretary, but like everyone else, she does whatever needs to be done. And she does it very well, by the way.”

Anna was out of the room before Laura could respond, but Caitlyn guessed Laura was probably used to that.

“This will be your office.” Anna ushered her into a high-ceilinged room with windows looking onto a side lawn. It had probably once been a modest parlor, with its small fireplace and beautiful molding, but was now furnished with a computer desk and file cabinets. Several maps were pinned onto a bulletin board on the wall.

Anna waved at the small blue pins that dotted the map. “Those are places where we have programs. We provide food, shelter, medical care, educational programs—anything we can to alleviate the suffering of those touched by war.” Anna’s passion was impressive.

“It’s a big job.”

“A huge job,” Anna agreed. “Those projects are ongoing, and they’re already established and running well. What I need you to do is coordinate the kinds of services we provide for individual special needs that arise frequently.”

“I see.” She didn’t, but surely she was going to get more explanation than that.

Anna bent over the desk for a moment and brought up a file on the computer. “Here’s the project I want you to start with. There’s very little information yet, but you’ll read everything we have.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Ali Tabiz was orphaned and injured in the fighting. We’ve been contacted by Dr. Mike Montgomery, a surgeon with the army currently stationed in the Middle East. We’ve worked with him for a while. Little Ali may need heart surgery, and Mike wants him brought here to see a pediatric cardiac surgeon. That’s your job.”

So she was supposed to get a minor foreign national out of a war-torn country and bring him to Texas for treatment. She couldn’t even begin to ask the questions that flooded her mind.

“Don’t panic,” Anna said. She pulled out a black three-ring binder. “Our last coordinator was very organized, and we’ve done this sort of thing many times. She’s outlined a step-by-step process with all the things you’ll need to do.”

Caitlyn grasped the binder as if it were a life preserver and she were sinking under the waves. “Good. I’m going to need it.”

“You’ll be fine. And I’m just across the hall. Come to me with any questions.” She frowned slightly. “Dr. Mike is usually in touch via e-mail, but sometimes things get pretty hot where he is.”

“You think that’s why you haven’t received any other information?” That must mean that the child was in a dangerous place, as well.

“Probably, but we won’t waste time. You can start by alerting the medical facilities and personnel we normally use that we’ll have a case coming their way. Once we know more, you can get the details nailed down.”

Someone tapped on the frame of the open door, and Caitlyn turned to see Sarah, the kindergarten teacher. “Anna, you’re needed on the phone. It’s some CEO who wants to make a donation and won’t talk to anyone else.”

“Okay, I’ll take it. Never turn down an eager donor.” Anna was gone in an instant, leaving Caitlyn with her mouth still open to say goodbye.

She looked at Sarah, who stood there smiling, probably at her expression. “You didn’t tell me she was a whirlwind.”

Sarah laughed. “How else would she get everything done? Don’t worry—you’ll get used to it.” She waved and disappeared, leaving Caitlyn staring blankly at the computer screen.

She found she was still clutching the binder. All right. She could do this. She needed a job, and here it was. She wouldn’t let anything keep her from succeeding at it.

An hour later she was feeling far more confident. As Anna had said, her predecessor had been organized.

She’d already made several calls, and she’d been pleasantly surprised by her reception. The physicians and hospital administrators had obviously worked with Children of the Day in the past and were perfectly ready to jump into the new project. As soon as she had some more information—

That was the sticking point. No one could do anything until they learned a bit more about the case. She checked the e-mail inbox again, feeling a flutter of excitement at a message from Dr. Montgomery. Maybe this was what they needed.

She clicked it open, and a small face appeared on the screen. This, clearly, was Ali Tabiz.

Big brown eyes, short dark brown hair, an engaging smile. According to the brief statistics attached, the little boy was five, the same age as the twins, but he looked—what?

She grappled for the right word. He was small, maybe suffering from the shortages that went along with having a war in your backyard, and there was a bruise over one eye. But he didn’t look younger than the twins. In a way, he looked older, as those dark brown eyes seemed to hold a world of sorrows.

“Cute kid.” The voice, coming from behind her without warning, startled her so much that her hands jerked from the keys, and she swung around. It was Steve Windham again, this time in uniform. Somehow it made him seem even taller, his shoulders even broader. Or maybe that was because she was sitting down.

She shoved her chair back, standing. “Steve, hello.” She noted the bars he wore. “Or should I say Captain Windham?”

He shook his head, giving her that easy smile. “I’m Chaplain Steve to everyone. Since we’re old friends, I’m just Steve to you.”

She wouldn’t, she decided, exactly call them old friends. “First the elementary school, now Children of the Day. Are you following me?”

His grin widened. “Afraid not. Not that that’s not a good idea.”

Maybe it was safest to ignore the comment. “What are you doing here?”

“I coordinate all the military volunteers who work with Children of the Day, so I’m in and out of the foundation office all the time.”

“Painting at the elementary school, volunteering here, counseling the grieving—surely a chaplain’s not expected to do all that.”

“All that and more.” He shrugged. “An army chaplain has a surprising amount of autonomy. His or her duties are what he or she makes of them, outside of regular services. I follow where the Lord leads me to minister, and He led me here.”

Which meant she’d be tripping over him, apparently. He’d been right to remind her. Prairie Springs was a small town.

He nodded toward the computer screen. “Is this little guy your first project?”

“Yes.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not a state secret, you know. Tell me about him.”

“Look, Steve, I’m not trying to kick you out, but I have work to do. I just don’t see why you need to know about my project.” It was her project, after all.

“If that child has to be brought to the States from a war zone, then I need to know.” Now his smile had developed an edge. “I also coordinate any military involvement in Children of the Day projects—which probably will mean getting that child out.”

“Sorry.” That didn’t sound very gracious, did it? “I am sorry. I didn’t realize that you were involved to such an extent.”

He shrugged. “Now you know. So, are you ready to tell me about him now?”

“Of course.” She managed a smile. “I don’t know much yet. His name is Ali Tabiz, and he’s five years old. He was referred to Children of the Day by a Dr. Mike Montgomery.”

He nodded, his eyes intent as he studied the face on the screen. “I know Mike. If he wants our help, he has good reason.”

“I suppose so, but he hasn’t gotten back to us with much information on the boy’s condition yet. It’s apparently a heart problem that may need surgery. Oh, and we do know he’s an orphan.”

“Poor little guy.” Steve reached out and touched the screen. “What do you say we send him a message?”

“A message? Well, I suppose we could ask Dr. Mike to tell him something.”

“We can do better than that.” He nodded to her desk chair. “If you’ll let me use your computer for a minute, that is.”

In an effort to seem more congenial, she slid out of the chair and watched as he started an e-mail. But the letters that appeared on the screen were Arabic.

Her mouth was probably hanging open in surprise. “How did you do that?”

He grinned. “All the computers here are equipped to switch to an Arabic alphabet. It’s necessary, given where the greatest need is at the moment.”

“But how do you know Arabic?” Steve seemed to be full of surprises.

He shrugged. “I have a knack for languages, I guess. And I was in the Middle East in an earlier offensive.”

“I didn’t know.”

An awkward silence followed, making her wonder what war had been like for a chaplain.

He frowned at the screen. “Since he’s only five, he’s probably not reading much yet, so let’s keep it simple and say we love him and want to see him.”

“That sounds good.” It did, and she was touched that Steve had thought of something that hadn’t even occurred to her.

“There we go.” Steve addressed it to the doctor’s e-mail address and hit Send. “Mike will see that he gets it and that somebody reads it to him.”

“I wish the doctor would get back to us. There’s not much more I can do until I hear from him.”

“You can trust Mike to do what’s right. We’ve worked with him before. He’s one of the good guys.”

She was beginning to think that Steve was one of the good guys, too. But that didn’t mean she wanted him taking over her job.

“I have a few more things to do before I go home, so if you don’t mind—”

He nodded, getting up from the computer. “I know. It’s your job, not mine.”

“Well, yes, I guess that’s what I mean. I’d like to show my new boss I can do it.”

He stood watching her for a moment, and she almost thought there was a shadow of disappointment in his blue eyes.

“Not alone,” he said. “Nobody around here is a solo act. It takes all of us to make this work.”

“I’m sure cooperation is important, but—”

“But you’re staff, while I’m just a volunteer?”

“I didn’t mean that.” She wasn’t sure where this tension between them had come from.

He shrugged and started for the door, but before he reached it, he turned back toward her. “Keep me posted on Ali, will you?”

“All right.”

He didn’t seem convinced that she meant it. “Don’t forget that I’m your military contact, Caitlyn. You’d better get used to working with me.”