âMaâam, maybe youâd like to fasten the wings on your daughterâs dress.â
âOh, sheâs not myââ Barbara began, then let the words die on her lips. What good would it do to explain? What difference did it make to a stranger that Barbara must play mother to a child she hardly knew? Barbara smiled faintly, took the pin, and said simply, âThank you.â
She fastened the pin on Janeeâs dress, and the child gazed at it for several moments, running her fingertips along the edge of the long graceful wings. âAre these angel wings?â she asked softly.
Barbara looked at Janee and for a moment no words came. Finally she managed to say, âI donât know, honey. But Iâm sure angels have very beautiful wings.â
Janeeâs face clouded and her mouth puckered. âI want to go home.â
âYouâre going to your new home, Janee,â said Barbara, forcing a note of enthusiasm.
Janeeâs lower lip trembled. âI want my old home.â
âIâm sorry, Janee.â
âI want my mommy and daddy.â
âOh, Janee, I know you do, butââ
âMommy and Daddy are in my old house. Theyâre waiting for me. I want to go to my old house.â
âNo, honey, we canât. Your parents arenât there.â Barbara groped for words. âTheyâre in heaven with Jesus, but their love will always be in your heart.â
A huge tear rolled down Janeeâs cheek. âI want my mommy.â
Barbara started to slip her arm around Janee, but the child pushed her hand away and scooted closer to the window, hugging her teddy tightly to her chest. âWe go home, Zowie,â she murmured. âWe go home.â After a while her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep.
Barbara looked at Doug and uttered a sigh of dismay. âDo we have any idea what weâre getting into? Janeeâs never going to accept us.â
âWe have no choice, Barb,â he whispered. âWeâve got to make it work.â
She laid her head wearily on his strong shoulder. âI donât know if I can, Doug. Look at us. Weâre asbad off as she is. How are we going to help her heal, when after all these years we havenât been able to heal ourselves?â
She felt Dougâs shoulder tense. âWhat do you mean, Barb? Weâre doing fine,â he said gruffly. âWhy do you have to analyze everything to death?â
âAnd why do you have to deny that our lives have been a mess since Caitlin died?â
âBecause youâre wrong, Barb. Our lives are whatever we say they are, whatever we want to believe. I canât help it if you insist on wallowing in the past.â
Her tone thick with resentment, she retorted, âMaybe thatâs better than shutting down my emotions and working myself to death like youâre doing.â
Doug heaved a disgruntled sigh. âLetâs not get into this here. Not now. Weâve got enough to deal with. Right now, letâs just concentrate on the child.â
Barbara didnât reply. She put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. It was another child, her beloved Caitlin, long gone, who haunted her waking hours as well as her sleep. How could she focus on someone elseâs child when memories of her own lost daughter sapped her emotions and exhausted her energies? Heaven help her, what did she have left to give this needy, wounded child who wanted no part of her?
Chapter Five
B arbara and Doug arrived home with Janee just after dark. A warm summer rain was falling, thrumming the roof with a steady rat-a-tat rhythm. The house was dark and silent, and smelled stuffy and closed in. While Doug parked the car in the garage, Barbara walked around the living room, switching on lamps. Janee stood in the entryway looking small and uncertain, hugging her teddy.
âWhereâs the kitty?â she asked at last in a
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