Tender Love (3 page)

“That won't be hard to do,” Kristin agreed. “I make good grades in art.”

“Ah, but there's a catch to it,” Alice said. “Neither of you can look while I'm drawing the head, and I'll fold over the top of the paper before I hand it to you. Eddie can't watch while you're shaping the body, and you'll fold over what you've done before he draws the feet and legs.”

Kristin frowned. “I don't know if I can do that.”

“Let's try it anyway. Each of us will mark where the next part of the animal is supposed to be drawn. Cover your eyes.”

Alice quickly sketched an outline of what purported to be a poodle, although art wasn't one of her strong points. She folded the paper so that only the edge of the neck was showing.

“Okay, Kristin, you can look now, but Eddie keeps his eyes covered.”

Kristin screwed up her eyes in concentration as she carefully drew the body of a dalmatian. Watching her, Alice deduced that she did have some artistic talent. When Eddie's turn came, with his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, he outlined four legs that could belong on no other dog except a dachshund.

As she watched Eddie's tiny fingers painstakingly creating the legs and feet, Kristin smiled broadly, and when he finished and Alice unfolded the paper, Kristin laughed, shouting, “That's the funniest looking dog I've ever seen.”

The head of an aristocratic poodle attached to the spotted, thin body of a dalmatian, supported by four short, sturdy legs
was
amusing.

Eddie giggled, saying, “But I did make nice legs, didn't I, Alice?” He jumped up and down on the chair. “I want to draw a bird. Let me draw first this time.”

They'd made three more creatures by the time the muffins were ready, and the two children were more animated than Alice had seen them. She removed the muffins from the pan.

“Do you want to eat a muffin now or wait until they've cooled?”

“They smell so good, let's have one now,” Kristin said, “and maybe we can have some more when Daddy comes home.”

“We need to share with Gran. Eddie, will you take her a muffin while I pour the milk?”

He jumped out of his chair. “I want to show her our pictures, too.” He tucked the images they'd drawn under his arm and took the muffin Alice placed in a plastic bowl. She watched him a bit anxiously for she hadn't seen Eddie go up or down the stairs by himself, but neither he nor Kristin seemed to realize that his behavior was unusual. She waited with bated breath until he returned to the kitchen, and although his color was heightened and his breathing accelerated, soon after he sat down and
started eating his muffin, his complexion and breathing were normal.

“I want to show Daddy the pictures, too,” he said.

“Fine. Help me rinse our glasses and plates, and we can leave them in the sink. We might have another snack with your father when he comes home, if it isn't too late.”

“But you said we could wait up for him,” he said.

“Well, I didn't exactly say that, but if you do get sleepy, I'll stay upstairs with you until he's home.”

When they went into the family room, before they turned on the television, Kristin said, “What's another game you and your sister played?”

“We used to tell progressive stories. One of us would think of a subject and we'd make up a story about it. The first one would talk for a few minutes, then the other one would add on ideas. We'd switch back and forth, changing the story content to fit what the one before had said until we thought the story was finished. They were make-believe stories. Think you could do that?”

“I can do it,” Eddie said, “if Kristin can.”

“I want to start the story,” Kristin insisted.

They settled on the couch with Alice between the two children.

“Natasha was a little girl, and she was afraid of spiders,” Kristin started.

“I don't like that name—I can't say it,” Eddie protested.

“Make him listen, Alice,” Kristin said, and turning a stern eye on her brother, she said, “You're not supposed to say anything until I've finished.”

Alice put her arm around Eddie, and he snuggled
close. “If you can't pronounce Natasha, maybe you can say, Tasha.”

“Tasha,” he said experimentally. “I'm going to call her Tasha. Hurry up, Kristin, so I can talk.”

Two stories and an hour later, Alice had learned a lot about her companions. They were both afraid of spiders, they were terrified of the dark, they couldn't understand why their mother had to die, and they were worried about the future—especially what would happen to them if their father should also die. These revelations disturbed Alice, especially when she knew that Kristin was going to camp tomorrow where she would probably encounter lots of darkness and spiders.

When the second story ended, Eddie said, “Okay—what're we going to play now?”

Smothering a yawn, Alice said, “How about the ‘take a nap' game?”

“Hey, Alice, that's sneaky,” Kristin said. “I bet there isn't any such game.”

“No, but I'm sleepy. Let's find a show on television that you like, and you can watch while
I
take a nap.”

Kristin looked at the clock. “It's ten o'clock, and we usually aren't awake this late, so we don't know what to watch.” Her face twitched nervously as she added, “It's awful late, I wonder if Daddy is all right.”

“I'm sure he is.”
What could she say to calm the fears of these children?
“Shall I tell you a story before I take my nap?”

“Is it the kind where we talk, too?” Kristin asked.

“No, this is a Jesus story? You know who Jesus is, don't you?”

They solemnly nodded their heads.

“Once when Jesus was talking to a group of his friends, he told them they shouldn't worry about things that they couldn't change. Some of them were afraid they wouldn't have enough food to eat, others didn't think they had enough clothes. And Jesus said that they should trust God to take care of them and not worry about what might happen tomorrow.”

Kristin and Eddie looked at her in mystification, obviously without any understanding of her words.

“Take your daddy, for instance. Let's say he's had a flat tire on the way home, and it took some time for him to repair it. Is there anything you can do to help him?”

“I don't think so,” Kristin said slowly.

“Then why should you worry about it? Or be afraid that something terrible has happened to him? God loves your father, and He'll look after him.”

“Then why did He let my mommy die?” Eddie whispered, tears glistening in his big blue eyes.

God, I'm getting in over my head. Help!

“Your mommy was very sick, wasn't she? God took her to be with Him, and she won't ever be sick again. Would you want her to still be here with you and hurting a lot?”

“No,” Kristin said, “but why didn't God heal her? We need her more than God does.”

“I don't have all the answers, but I know this— God
could
have healed your mother, but why he didn't, I can't tell you. We have to trust God to do the right thing, although we can't always understand why He doesn't do what we want Him to do.”

“I miss my mommy,” Eddie said, his chin quiv
ering, and Alice's heart ached for the boy. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, now wet with tears.

“I know you do, but there's nothing you can do to bring her back. So instead of worrying about things you can't help, why don't you be the kind of children your mother would want you to be?”

“What would she want us to do?” Kristin wondered.

“Oh, she'd want you to help your daddy and not let him know how sad you are, and try to grow up healthy and strong, and learn a lot of things. Do you think you can do that?”

“Maybe,” Kristin said, but she looked doubtful.

“Let's learn a Bible verse? There's one that says, ‘I will trust and not be afraid.' Could you say that with me and mean it?”

Several times, they repeated in unison, “I will trust and not be afraid.”

When she thought they had the verse committed to memory, Alice said, “Let's turn on the TV and watch one program. If Mark isn't home by then, you should go to bed.” When she found a commentary on wild animals that seemed appropriate for the children to watch, she added, “I'm going to take a nap—your father will probably be here by the time the program ends.”

Alice didn't really intend to go to sleep, but she thought it might induce sleep in her charges. When she awakened groggily, she slitted her eyes, noting that Kristin was lying with her head on Alice's lap, and that Eddie was snuggled against her, sheltered by her right arm. Her arm was numb, and she supposed that had awakened her until she roused further.
Mark stood over them, the remote in his hand, turning off the television.

Alice flushed to have him see her in such close proximity to his family, and she sat up, her movement awakening Kristin and Eddie.

“Daddy!” Kristin cried. “You did come home. We worried about you until Alice taught us a verse, ‘I will trust and not be afraid.' Then all of us went to sleep.”

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Eddie wiggled away from Alice and ran to Mark. He clutched the pictures they'd drawn. “Look, Daddy—we've been drawing pictures.”

“And telling stories,” Kristin interrupted him. She took Mark's hand. “Come in the kitchen. Alice made apple muffins, and we saved some for you. I'll pour the milk.”

“Pictures, stories and muffins, too! I'll have a hard time entertaining you from now on,” Mark said to his children, but his eyes were on Alice, and she lowered her lashes against his intent gaze.

She got up from the couch, straightened her clothing, and pushed her hair away from her face. Since she'd arrived at the Tanners', she'd been French-braiding her hair, but it was always disheveled by the end of the day. As the children ran ahead of them to the kitchen, she said, “I know you said to put them to bed, but they begged so hard to wait up for you that I didn't have the heart to make them go. I hope you don't mind too much.”

“Mind?” he said, laughing. “I was being considerate of you. You're supposed to have free evenings, and I didn't want you to be bothered with them, after you'd had them all day.”

“I enjoyed the evening as much as they did. Besides, they needed help tonight, so I'm glad I was here. I'll tell you about it later.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, and she darted a quick glance toward him. The expression in his blue eyes startled her, and she dropped her gaze quickly, not daring to interpret what she saw there. Impulsively, Mark embraced Alice in a brotherly hug, and for a moment, Alice rested her head on his shoulder.

Careful, Alice, don't misinterpret his caress—he's simply grateful to you for looking after his children, she told herself.

He dropped his arms, and she moved away from him casually, saying, “I can warm your dinner in the microwave if you haven't eaten.”

“We had food sent in, so I've eaten, but the milk and muffins sound good.”

“Did you have a difficult evening?” she asked as they walked companionably down the hallway to the kitchen.

He groaned. “We met with a rich
and
very difficult client—one of the officers had offended him, and he was threatening to withdraw all of his assets from the bank, so the CEO wanted all of us there to mollify him.”

“Did it work?”

“Finally, but it was a long session.” He yawned.

Kristin had already placed four glasses of milk on the table, and muffins on napkins for each of them. Alice had intended to go to her room and not infringe on this short time Mark had with his kids, but she knew Kristin wouldn't understand, so she sat down. She had no appetite, however, for as the children
chattered about their day's activities, from time to time, she sensed Mark's eyes searching her face.

Mark took the last bite of his muffin and asked for another one. “Is it all right, Alice?” Kristin asked.

“Of course.”

“Now, you kids, go upstairs, brush your teeth and get in bed. I'll be up to kiss you good-night as soon as I finish my snack,” Mark said. “Kristin, help Eddie.”

Alice started to tell him that Eddie didn't need any help, but she decided to let Mark find that out for himself.

As the sounds of their footsteps faded up the stairs, Mark spoke quietly, “What kind of help did they need tonight?”

“Do you realize that Kristin and Eddie are afraid you're going to die?”

His face blanched, and Alice continued, “They think they'll lose you like they did their mother. They can't understand why God let their mother die. I tried to talk with them and reassure them, but I don't know how to explain God's will to children. Betty said you're an excellent counselor—perhaps you can talk with them.”

Mark laid down his fork, shoved the half-eaten muffin aside, and stared at the floor. At last he looked at her, and Alice was chilled by the bleak expression in his eyes.

“I can't give them any assurance when I don't have any for myself. I don't know what's going to happen to us.”

He pushed back his chair, and without a word left the kitchen. His footsteps sounded leaden as he climbed the stairs.

Alice remembered something Betty once told her, “I think he's lost his faith, and that's a terrible thing to say about a man who was a powerhouse in the ministry.” Alice had purposely watched to see if Betty's suspicions were true, but since Mark had always been upbeat, she decided that Betty was overly concerned. However, it had bothered Alice that God was never mentioned in the house, and that none of them attended church services. The family's spiritual life had been neglected during Clarice's illness, and Alice intended to start taking the children to Sunday school. But in light of Mark's words tonight, she suspected that he did have a serious problem.