A Family To Share. Arlene James
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burble as the girl spied Connie. She threw out her little arms beseechingly, crying something inarticulate.
Connie did the only thing she could: She hurried to take the shuddering child into her arms.
Larissa wrapped all four of her limbs around Connie and dropped her head onto Connie’s shoulder, sniffling and gasping with her tears.
Marcus raised both eyebrows.
The nurse—a young, normally cheerful woman with an infant of her own—looked from Carlita to Connie and drawled, “One of y’all is a genius.”
The remaining three looked at Carlita, who shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “With my kids, first you got to get their attention.”
“Words of wisdom,” Miss Dabney muttered to Connie, who was rocking Larissa from side to side.
The atmosphere had lightened considerably. Larissa took a deep, shuddering breath, but she was quiet.
“Why don’t we take her into my office?” Marcus suggested softly, lifting a hand.
Keeping her movements slow and gentle, Connie preceded Marcus past Miss Dabney and through the hallway into his private office, where she took a seat in the corner. The day care director followed while Marcus instructed Carlita to expect Kendal Oakes and send him right in. Finally, he joined the two women and the child in his office, skirting around behind the desk between Miss Dabney’s chair and the bookcase.
The room was small but well arranged, and Marcus enjoyed the view of the chapel in the compound square a great deal. The world seemed a fine place from his office window. Marcus often took comfort in the view during difficult moments. He gave himself a brief moment to do so now before turning to his guests.
“You certainly do have a way with her,” he whispered to Connie.
It seemed to him that she had a way with children in general. What a pity that her record kept her from formally working in child care. He’d broached the subject with Miss Dabney early on and had been saddened to learn that Connie’s situation effectively prevented her from being licensed to work with kids in most states, including Texas. He firmly believed that Connie had gotten a raw deal, but what was done was done.
Marcus glanced at the curly-haired toddler who sat with her cheek against Connie’s chest. Larissa was asleep. Obviously, she had exhausted herself with her tantrum. Marcus hoped she wouldn’t become too warm, as she was wearing her coat. Evidently, the nurse had expected Kendal to be there when she arrived with the child.
“She certainly seems fascinated by you,” Miss Dabney said softly.
“I wonder if you look anything like her mother,” Marcus mused.
Connie looked to those blond curls again, murmuring, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You don’t,” said a voice flatly, just before Kendal Oakes walked through the open doorway.
“Well, maybe a little around the eyes,” he said a few minutes later, leaning forward from the edge of the pastor’s desk. “And I suppose you’re about the same size.”
When he’d first heard the question and realized who it was being asked of, he felt a spurt of denial so fierce that it had momentarily rattled him, but then he took a look at his daughter, sleeping against Connie Wheeler’s chest, and the feeling had fizzled into gratitude.
Larissa seemed at peace for the first time in memory. It had occurred to him that, sitting there together, the pair really could have been mother and child, and for the first time, he let himself really study Connie Wheeler.
She was beautiful.
Laura had been pretty in her own way. When they were dating, he’d thought her facial features were neat and symmetrical; later, they had seemed sharp and cold to him.
He couldn’t imagine Connie Wheeler that way.
He shouldn’t be imagining her anyway, especially not with the good parson sitting right behind him.
Kendal realized that he really liked Marcus Wheeler. Moreover, Marcus and Connie made the perfect couple. Even their coloring was complementary. Both were golden, despite the minister’s slightly darker hair.
Kendal rubbed his hands over his face, appalled at himself, and fixed his mind on his daughter.
“What happened?”
Miss Dabney explained, keeping her voice low, and despair swept through Kendal, followed swiftly by anger.
“I thought parents were supposed to remain outside of the classroom.”
“Yes, they are,” Miss Dabney admitted, “but it’s a rule, not a law, and easily dealt with all in all. Larissa, on the other hand…”
The day care director darted her eyes at the minister.
Kendal closed his eyes, knowing what was coming even before the minister had cleared his throat. Larissa had already been dismissed from one day care center since they’d arrived in the Fort Worth area.
“We may not be best equipped to deal with her,” Marcus said gently.
Kendal swallowed and rose from the corner of the desk, putting his back to the bookcase to face the others.
“I’m aware of Larissa’s…special needs. I told you when we came that she’s in treatment.”
“Private care might be best,” Miss Dabney said bluntly.
“I’ve tried that!” he said, struggling not to raise his voice.
The last thing he wanted was to wake his daughter and have her prove how difficult she could be, but the painful truth was that, in the months since her mother’s death, they’d been through four private sitters, only one of whom had seemed able to control Larissa. Then he’d found out that she’d been giving his daughter sleeping pills! That was the closest he’d ever come to becoming violent.
“I’d stay home with her myself if I thought it would do any good,” he admitted bitterly.
“Is there no one who could help you?” Connie asked softly. “No one you could trust?”
Kendal shook his head. He couldn’t ask his stepmother to take over raising his daughter, and he wouldn’t ask his late wife’s mother. That would be the worst possible thing he could do.
All right, not the worst possible. The doctor suggested that residential care might be a solution, but Kendal couldn’t even think of it. His daughter didn’t need to be locked away, for pity’s sake. She must already feel abandoned by her mother. How would she feel if he sent her away?
The idea that she might actually feel relief was almost more than he could bear.
If only he could somehow reach her, make her understand that he loved her and wanted to help.
“I simply don’t know what to do,” he admitted softly.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a look that passed from Connie to Marcus.
“Let’s pray about it diligently for a few days,” Marcus suggested after a moment, “and see what accommodations we can make.”
Kendal nodded, aware of a lump in his throat. It was only a reprieve, of course, and Miss Dabney wasn’t looking too pleased about it, but at this point he’d take anything he could get.
He straightened away from the bookcase and looked to Connie, trying his best to remain impassive.
“Thank you. I’ll take her home now.”
“Let me help you get her into the car,” Connie whispered, sliding to the edge of her seat and starting to rise.
He stepped forward automatically, helping her to her feet with his hands cupped beneath her upper arms. Only when she fully stood up, his daughter cradled against her chest, did he realize that they were standing much too