for a few days. I think the kids would be okay by themselves now, don’t you? They’re old enough.”
Darlene’s stomach churned at the thought. She wasn’t sure she’d have a good time, knowing her children were unattended.
“I can already feel you tensing up.” Brad sighed. “Maybe you’re right. They’re good kids, but . . .”
Darlene was pretty sure Brad was recalling the events back in Houston with Chad, and Darlene shivered just thinking about them.
It was a long haul for Brad’s parents to come in from Florida, and her father-in-law hadn’t been in the best of health lately. Since Brad was an only child, Darlene’s brother, Dale, was the only sibling between them, and Darlene was pretty sure that having Dale come stay would be just like adding another kid to the mix. She loved her brother, but even at thirty-six, he still played hard.
“Yeah . . . ,” she finally said, “and I just started a new job. I can’t take time off yet.” She nestled into the crook of his arm. “We’ll figure out something.”
They’d said that for a long time, and they never did figure anything out. She thought about their trip to the Riverwalk, probably four years ago. How great it would be to do that again.
“I guess I’ll stop by Layla’s on the way home tomorrow and give her the dress.” Darlene closed her eyes again, yawning. “I don’t know what to think about that woman.”
Brad was reading again, and Darlene could tell she better say her prayers before she fell asleep in the middle of them.
“Who do you love?” she asked her husband before she began to thank God for His many blessings.
“You, baby.”
The next morning, she hardly budged when the alarm went off until Brad got up, came around the bed, and nudged her. “Work today, baby.”
“Oh yeah.” She stepped out of the bed, and with her eyes barely open, she grabbed her robe. “I’ll go start breakfast.”
“Dar . . .” Brad gently grabbed her arm. “Let the kids fend for themselves. There’s cereal, muffins, and other stuff they can eat. They don’t have to have something cooked.”
She yawned. “I guess not.”
Forty-five minutes later, she was dressed and downstairs. Chad asked if they’d ever have eggs for breakfast again, and Ansley said she hoped not.
“What’s the point of just saving those eggs in the refrigerator?” Chad chuckled. “Unless we’re going to save them to egg someone’s house.”
“Uh—no,” Darlene said as she moved toward the coffee. “That’s not happening.”
“This is weird, you working, Mom. I mean, seriously.” Chad talked with his mouth full. “What if one of your poor children needs something during the day?”
Darlene turned around and grinned at Chad’s exaggerated frown. “Well, I guess my poor little darlings will just have to figure it out.”
“I’ll cook eggs one morning,” Grace said as she buttered a muffin.
Ansley’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.
Chad pointed to Grace. “I knew you’d come through for us, Grace.”
Darlene pulled her purse onto her shoulder, feeling a bit naked without any jewelry. It had taken effort, but she’d gotten her wedding ring off last night by rubbing lotion on her finger and pulling until she’d thought she might cry. “Lock everything up. And remember to clean up after yourselves, and clothes go—”
“We know, Mom,” they all chimed in together.
Darlene picked up her cup of coffee. “Then I’ll see you all tonight. Love you!”
Darlene mostly listened the first hour of group session that morning. She sat in the circle, facing Rachel, the teacher Darlene’s age with multiple degrees who also led the group. The two younger teachers—Christie and Beverly—chimed in occasionally, as did Myrna. All seven students had come to school that day—Myrna’s granddaughter, Theresa, was the youngest at seven, and Mindy was the oldest at fifteen.
Each child had special needs, and Darlene was impressed that the teachers were able to maintain order. And they did it with kindness and compassion. Darlene liked all of the teachers, but into the second hour, she grew particularly fond of Beverly, one of the recent college graduates. A heavyset woman, Beverly had one of those mouths that always seemed to be set in a smile, and three of the children had fought for the chairs on either side of her. Beverly spoke with a slight lisp and often held her hands in a prayer position as she spoke. Not that she was praying—or maybe she was—but her voice was soft, and her comments seemed mature beyond her age. She didn’t talk