Kids by Christmas. Janice Johnson Kay
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sneaky,” Sophia said with apparent admiration.
“For now, I’ll have you both come to my shop after school, not home. You can do your homework there, and we can come home together after I close at five.”
She had to tell them about Knit One, Drop In, including an explanation of the name of the store. Sophia thought it would be way cool—her favorite words of enthusiasm—to learn to knit.
“Is there anything you want to ask me?” Suzanne concluded.
Jack scraped his plate in search of any last crumbs. “What would we call you?”
“Hm. What did you call your mother?”
“Mom,” said Sophia.
“Mommy,” said her little brother.
“Well, definitely not either. Because she’ll always be your mother, in your hearts.”
“Do you still think about your mother?” Sophia asked, sounding a little shy.
Suzanne nodded. “I wish she could meet you, for example. Be your grandmother.”
“Oh.” She looked down.
“I think maybe you should just call me by my name for now. What do you think? Then, later, if you want maybe we could think of some variation on Mom.”
“You mean, we should call you Ms. Chauvin, like Mrs. Burton said?”
She smiled at Jack. “No, you can call me Suzanne.”
Sophia’s forehead crinkled. “How do you spell it?”
She spelled it for them. Sophia frowned, taking it in, while Jack kicked his heels on the chair and gazed out the sliding door.
“Will we have your last name?” Sophia asked.
“Yes, once the adoption is complete. Are you okay with that?”
“Sophia Chauvin,” she tried out loud.
“That’s an elegant name,” Suzanne said. “I like Jack Chauvin, too.”
“It’s lucky Jack isn’t Van. Then he’d be Van Chauvin.” She cackled.
Her brother doubled over and pretended to laugh hysterically. His elbow caught the glass of milk and knocked it over, sending the milk in a river across the table.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried, scrambling up, something very close to fear on his face.
“He didn’t mean to do it!” Sophia said, leaping to her feet. “I’ll clean it up, so you don’t have to do anything.”
Taken aback by their reaction, Suzanne rose, too. “I know it was an accident. Everybody knocks things over sometimes. Don’t worry. Here.” She grabbed a roll of paper towels from the holder. “Let’s sop it up with this.”
Arms close to his body, Jack stood frozen by the table, his eyes saucer-wide.
Suzanne went to him. “Jack, don’t look so scared! It’s okay. Really.” She took a chance that she wouldn’t scare him more and bent to give him a quick hug.
He stood stiff in her embrace, but when she let him go she saw some of the tension leave his body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. Then, “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Of course you can.” The minute he’d left the room, she turned to his older sister. “Why was he so frightened? Mrs. Burton doesn’t, uh…”
Sophia shook her head. “She gets grumpy, but that’s all. It was the other foster mom, the first one we had. She yelled a lot and spanked Jack when he made mistakes.”
“What an awful woman!” Suzanne said with indignation. “Did you tell the social worker who supervised you?”
“After we went to Mrs. Burton’s.”
Suzanne smiled at her. “Good for you.”
Hands full of wads of soggy paper towels, Sophia said, “The quilt thing on the table is wet, too.”
“I can throw it in the washer.” Suzanne bundled it up. “Oh, shoot! I hear a car. I bet it’s Mrs. Burton.”
She put the table runner in the sink and went to the front window just as the kids’ foster mom beeped her horn.
Jack came from the bathroom, head hanging again, somehow appearing smaller than he had when he’d been excited and happy. Suzanne ignored the burning at the back of her eyes and smiled at him and then his sister.
“Shall we go shopping next weekend? Start looking for things for your bedrooms?”
“Yeah!” Sophia said.
“If it’s okay with Mrs. Burton and Ms. Stuart, we’ll plan on Saturday.” She could take a whole two days off. Rose would be glad for the hours.
“Wow! Okay. Bye.”
They raced out and tumbled into the back of Mrs. Burton’s car. Suzanne followed and spoke briefly with their foster mother, who thought Saturday would be great.
Suzanne stood in the driveway and waved as the car backed out. She didn’t want them to go, but she also realized she felt a little shaky. She’d been so nervous about what they’d think, whether they’d like her, she’d been operating on adrenaline.
The car disappeared down the street, and she sighed, giving herself a little shake.
“How’d it go?” a voice asked from so close, she jumped.
Tom, of course. He’d approached as soundlessly as always.
“Oh! You startled me.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
His forehead creased. “I’m sorry. I came out my front door. I assumed you saw me.”
“No, I was too busy trying to decide if the visit went well. I think it did.”
“You think?”
“Well, they seemed to like the house. But Jack freaked when he accidentally knocked over his milk. Sophia told me their foster mom spanked him when he made any messes.”
The lines in his face deepened. “That poor kid.”
“It worried me a little.” She didn’t know why she was confiding in him, but the words just kept coming. “I realized how many issues they probably have. Did I tell you their mom had MS? As her health deteriorated, they moved from shelters to cheap hotels where she could rent a room by the week. Sophia did the grocery shopping. I guess the mom must have gotten a disability check or something. But it sounds really grim.”
“And they watched her die slowly.”
She nodded. “After their mom got really sick, Jack started wetting his bed, and Sophia… She acts as if she doesn’t care, but she must. She says she hates the school she’s going to and doesn’t have any friends, and apparently Jack gets bullied. And I’m coward enough to think What do I know about traumatized children? What if I foul up?”
“You won’t,” he said with a certainty that surprised her. “If I’ve ever seen anyone meant to be a mother, it’s you. Anyway, if they need counseling, you can get them that, too.”
She drew a deep, ragged breath. “I can, can’t I? I don’t know if I’m meant to be a mother, but I want to be one. Wow. I really panicked. Look at me! I’m shaking.” She held out her hands, which indeed had a tremor.
He smiled at her, that amazingly kind smile transforming his blunt-featured face to one that was almost handsome. “You panicked because suddenly your fantasy kids are real, with real problems.”
Another deep breath, this one filling her lungs. “You’re right. That is why, isn’t it?” She gave a little laugh. “You aren’t a parent, either. How did you get