“I ate four green beans,” Chase said proudly as he held up all five fingers. Then with his other hand, he pushed down his thumb.
“Very impressive. You’re going to be so healthy. Hunter, what about you?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. I didn’t count.” He finally looked her in the eye. “But I ate some.”
She wanted to cry. To hug him to her. He was so serious for a child. “Good for you.”
“Well, boys, it looks like your dad got tied up and isn’t going to make it,” Harry said. “Why don’t I take you to your house and you can get going on your homework.”
“I have homework, just like Hunter,” Chase bragged.
She gasped. “You do?”
“Yep. I’m a big boy.”
“You sure are.” She patted his back. Then Minnie held up a to-go container. “It looks like my food is ready, so I better run. Hunter, good luck with your homework. I can help if you ever need it.” Now why had she said that?
“Really?”
“Yes, remember? I teach kindergarten.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay.” His eyes brightened in what appeared to be a true flash of interest.
“Thank you for offering,” Harry said.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave a little wave and went to get her food.
It looked like Gregory was having a hard time leaving work on time that week. First, too late to feed his sons dinner before the meeting. And now, missing dinner all together.
She couldn’t help but wonder if all was well in the Jones household. Didn’t Gregory realize these days when his sons are young were precious and fleeting?
Chapter Three
O n Saturday morning, Sarah quickly finished setting up for rehearsal. And not a minute too soon. Children started arriving early.
Hunter and Chase included. Wow. Gregory’s on the ball today.
But then she looked up and saw Harry walking down the aisle. “Good morning, Sarah.”
“Good morning, Mr. Jones.”
“Gregory’s working right now. But he’s supposed to pick the boys up.”
“Okay.”
“Call if you have any problems or if he doesn’t get here in time,” he said as he waved and walked out the door.
Problems?
Someone tugged on her sweater. “Hi, Miss Sawah.”
“Hi, Chase. How are you?”
“Good. It’s Saturday! Dad is home on Saturdays.”
“No he’s not,” Hunter said sounding as bitter as a little old man. “He’ll have to work.”
Chase’s smile dropped into the most pitiful frown.
“Well, it sounds like today he’ll have the afternoon off,” she said trying to cheer them up even while wondering if she should speak with Gregory.
No, Sarah. Do not get involved with this. She smiled and walked away.
Yes, that was good. Smile and walk away. Her new mantra.
She gathered the children and teen helpers. She even found a couple of parents had stayed to help.
“Okay, boys and girls, let’s all try standing in place where you’ll be at the beginning. I need to make sure you’ll fit on the stage.” Sarah took the list Donna Rae had given her and began to call out names, assigning each a part as a shepherd, Mary, Joseph, animal or angel. She placed the children and hoped they would stand still long enough for her to see the whole group.
“Now, I want my angels to come down to the very front.”
Chase jumped right in front of her and yelled, “I’m an angel!”
He was so precious it made her want to grin every time she looked at him. It seemed like it had been weeks since she smiled a genuine smile. Yet his excitement was contagious. She couldn’t resist—the smile or the warmth that seemed to try to seep into her bones.
Once she had placed all the angels, she said, “Now, I need the speaking shepherd.” She glanced at her chart. “Hunter Jones.”
“I don’t want a talking part,” he said from the perimeter of the group.
To push or not to push? Some children just needed a bit of encouragement. Hunter didn’t have the look of someone seeking that little nudge. “Okay. But could you stand here for me until I can get someone else?”
He nodded and then let her lead him to his spot.
Once she had him all set, she patted his head and thanked him. His hair was like silk. Dark and straight, just like his mother’s. He had her hazel eyes as well.
A pain she’d pushed into submission for so long tried to work its way into her chest, but she wouldn’t let it. How could looking at Hunter, a reminder of Gregory and Delia’s betrayal, possibly hurt her over fifteen years later? She should have been over him years ago.
By the time she finished posing the children and working to teach them several songs, the parents started to arrive. “Children, thank you so much for working so hard today. I’ll see you next time.”
The kids played while waiting for their parents. Of course, Hunter stood off by himself. And she realized she needed to talk to Gregory about encouraging Hunter to keep his speaking role. Maybe if she kept their conversation strictly pageant-related, she could remain objective. Could remain personally uninvolved.
By the time twenty minutes passed, though, she was quickly becoming personally involved.
“See, I told you,” Hunter said.
“Come on. I’ll call your granddad.” Since Hunter didn’t know Harry’s phone number, she had to go find a directory. When she told Harry what had happened, he sighed and apologized, then said he’d be right there.
It was a sunny day and fairly mild for December, so she locked up the building and waited out front with the boys.
Harry pulled up to the curb in a couple of minutes. She walked the boys to the car. “Hi, Mr. Jones.”
“I’m sorry to delay you.”
“Oh, it’s no problem at all.” The waiting wasn’t a problem, at least. But Hunter’s disappointment was.
Hunter climbed in the back of the car and buckled himself in his booster seat. “Where’s Dad?”
“I just talked to him. He got a call about taking down a dead tree.”
“But he said he would get us today.”
Sarah helped Chase in the other side and tried to guard her heart against the dejection on Hunter’s face.
“I know, son,” Harry said. “Your dad is a busy man, trying to make a living to take good care of you boys.” He twisted around to look back at Hunter. “And hey, guess what? We get to hang out together today. And you’re going to spend the night with me, so you don’t have to wake up and go to your house tonight.” Harry made a big production of looking excited.
Hunter didn’t buy it. Tears welled up in his eyes. “But I want to sleep in my bed,” he yelled, then turned his head into his seat and cried.
His pain was palpable, and she wanted more than anything to just smile and walk away. But she couldn’t do that any more than she could have walked away and skipped Peter’s funeral like her mind had screamed for her to do.
She reached