Apprentice Father. Irene Hannon
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In other words, not the best environment for the children. Cate’s expression, however, gave no hint of her reaction.
“Would you like some coffee?” he offered.
“No, thanks. But a glass of water would be great.”
“Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured toward the living room.
“I’d like to spend a few minutes with the children first, if you don’t mind. I brought an activity for them. May I borrow your kitchen table?”
“Sure. Help yourself.”
Cate followed him toward the kitchen, and as he got ice and water, she sat at the small table. The kids watched with interest as she withdrew a small tape recorder, a pad of paper and a box of crayons from her large shoulder tote.
“What’s all that for?” Emily asked.
“I thought you might like to draw some pictures while I talk to your uncle.” She tore off some sheets of paper and spread the crayons on the table. “The lady on the tape will tell you a story about a farmer and ask you to draw some of the things she talks about. After the tape ends, you can show me all your pictures.”
“Emily draws good,” Josh told Cate. “She drawed me a bird once.”
“Today you’ll both have a chance to draw lots of different animals. And a tractor and a barn and a big stalk of corn. And the sun and rain that make it grow.”
After settling the children at the table, Cate started the tape player and listened to the beginning with them to ensure they understood the instructions.
From a few feet away, Clay watched, one hip propped against the counter. She had a way with kids, no question about it. They seemed to like and trust her. And she certainly knew how to keep them entertained. If they could work out a child care arrangement, he would be forever in Reverend Richards’s debt.
And not just for the kids’ sake, he realized. Though he knew little about the woman standing a few feet away, he felt comfortable in her presence. Reassured, somehow, that things would work out. He found her as appealing as his niece and nephew did—on a lot of levels, he acknowledged, watching her soft blond hair brush the gentle sweep of her cheek as she leaned close to help Josh select a crayon.
When Cate turned toward him, her slight blush told him she was aware he’d been staring. Not good, he berated himself. He needed her child care services, and making her nervous was not going to work in his favor.
Clearing his throat, he pushed away from the counter and inclined his head toward the living room.
He followed her into the adjacent room, noting as he took a chair at right angles to the couch that the volume of the tape was loud enough to mask their conversation. Add in the giggles of the children—a heartwarming sound he hadn’t heard before—and it was clear they would be able to talk in privacy.
He was impressed.
“Good idea.” He gestured toward the kitchen, keeping his voice low.
“Based on what you said this morning at church, I had a feeling there might be some things we needed to discuss that you didn’t want them to hear. And it’s not wise to send such young children outside to play alone. Especially in an apartment setting.” She leaned forward slightly. “You mentioned this morning that you’d tried a local day care center, but it hadn’t worked out?”
“It lasted all of two days. Josh had an…accident…both days during his nap, and they weren’t willing to deal with a bed-wetting four-year-old.”
She frowned. “Does this happen often?”
“No. Emily says when he’s upset he tends to have accidents at night. It’s happened a couple of times.”
“Losing their mother is more than enough to upset young children. Not to mention moving to a new place.” Compassion softened Cate’s features.
“To be honest, they’ve had far more trauma than that.” Drawing a ragged breath, Clay gave her a brief overview of their life—and of his sister’s death. As he spoke, the sympathy in Cate’s eyes changed to shock, then horror.
“An environment like that can be so destructive to a child.” She sent a concerned glance toward Emily and Josh. “It can take years to undo the damage.”
“And I’m not the best person for the job. I’m on the move a lot, and I work long hours. Neither of which is conducive to family life.”
“There’s no one else who can take the children?”
“My father says they can live with him after he recovers from a bout of pneumonia. But my sister wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“May I ask why?”
Leaning forward, Clay rested his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands between his knees. “My father isn’t the warmest or kindest person in the world.” He chose his words with care as he stared at the floor. “These kids would wither in his house. They need fun and laughter and love, and they won’t get it there.”
“Are you going to keep them?”
“I don’t know.” He raked his fingers through his hair, the familiar panic twisting his stomach into a knot. “I left home at seventeen, spent a dozen years in the Army, and I now have a job that takes me all over the country. I’ve been on my own for close to eighteen years, and I like it that way. I’ve never wanted a responsibility like this. As long as the kids are with me, though, I want to do my best to restore some semblance of childhood to their lives. But I can’t do it alone. That’s why I need your help.”
Cate’s gaze locked with his for a moment. Then she slung her tote bag over her shoulder and rose. “I need to give this a little thought, and pray about it. Can I call you later tonight?”
He stood, too, doing his best to rein in his escalating panic. Although he’d been concerned at first about Cate’s disability, after talking with her and watching how she’d connected with Emily and Josh, he knew she would be perfect for them. But he understood her caution. She wouldn’t be walking into the easiest situation. Yet they needed her, as surely as parched plants need water to survive.
“Look, is there anything I can say to convince you? I can give you the name of my sister’s minister in Nebraska, or the police department, if you want to check out my story.”
“I know how hard this must be for you.” Her features gentled. “Give me a few hours. I’ll have an answer for you tonight.” She grasped her cane and stood. “I’d like to say goodbye to the children.”
“Could I…would you mind giving me your phone number?” Clay didn’t even try to hide his desperation.
“Of course.” She recited her number as he jotted it down. “But I will call tonight.”
He watched as she moved over to the table and gave each child’s drawings her full attention, offering words of praise and encouragement. Their faces were more animated than Clay had ever seen them.
If he was the praying type, he’d get down on his knees the minute she left and ask God to make her decide in his favor. As it was, he simply sent a silent entreaty, a single eloquent word, to whoever in the cosmos might happen to be listening.
Please!
“Now tell us about that nice-looking man with the two adorable children I saw you talking to at church this morning.” Cate’s mother passed the basket of fresh-baked rolls to her daughter.
Cate had wondered how long it would take for someone in her family to grill her about that conversation. That was the one bad thing about being part of a close-knit clan. Everybody assumed they had a right to know everything about your life. On the plus side, however, her family had often proven to be a good sounding board.
“A man by the name of Clay Adams.” She quickly filled them in on the situation.
“Poor