might as well kiss the job goodbye. “You know, maybe we should reschedule. This is a crazy busy morning for me. If you could come back—”
“No!” Libby’s shriek cut through the air like a knife. “No!”
Sam bolted out of the chair and charged down the hall, his heart a tight ball in his throat. He never should have left the kids alone in the living room. This was how awful things happened, and if there was one thing that would break Sam, it would be one of his kids getting hurt. Or worse. Please be okay, please be okay.
It was probably only ten yards from the dining room to the living room, but to Sam, it felt like ten thousand. “Libby? You okay?”
“Henry took my bear when I was playing with it! He’s hurting him! Tell him to stop!”
It took Sam a second to process the fact that Libby and Henry were both fine. Just engaged in a tug-of-war over a stuffed bear. Libby’s voice was at decibels usually reserved for rock concerts, the sound nearly outpaced by Henry’s screams. No words, just the frustrated screams that Sam had heard too much of in the last year and a half.
“Henry, give Libby back her bear.”
But Henry didn’t listen. Instead, he tugged harder, at the same time that Libby tugged in the opposite direction. There was a horrible tearing sound, and then an explosion of fiberfill in the air. The kids tumbled onto the carpet, each holding half a bear, like some kind of biblical division of property.
The sobs multiplied in volume. Libby was screaming at Henry and Henry was screaming back, and Sam just wanted to quit. Quit being a terrible father. Quit being the chief everything when he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Just run away somewhere that was quiet and peaceful and clean.
His wife would have known what to do. Wendy had had a way with the kids, a calming presence that seemed to bring everyone back to earth in seconds. God, he missed her, and how she could handle all these things that he sucked at. Wendy would have known whose bear that was, but Sam—Sam couldn’t even remember buying the bear.
“No!” Libby screamed again. “Look what you did, Henry! You ruined him!”
While Sam stood there, at a loss, with two kids in the throes of tantrums, Bandit ran into the fray and grabbed a chunk of bear, then darted into the corner like he’d scored a new chew toy. And Libby started to sob.
Great, just great. Now how was he supposed to fix this?
He stayed immobile, frozen with indecision, afraid of doing the wrong thing, making it worse. Katie brushed past him. “Don’t cry, Libby. I can sew this,” she said, bending down in the space between the kids. “Fix him up as good as new.”
Libby swiped at her nose with the back of her arm. “You can?”
Katie nodded while she gathered up the fiberfill and began stuffing it into the bear’s belly. Henry quieted, too, and just watched, eyes wide. “I learned how to sew when I was your age. If you want, I can teach you how.”
“He doesn’t know how to sew,” Libby said, jabbing another thumb in her father’s direction.
Katie shot Sam a grin. “Some daddies don’t and some mommies don’t. But if I teach you, then you’ll know and next time you can fix—” she tapped the bear’s decapitated head, then turned to Henry “—what’s his name?”
Henry just stared at her. His fist clenched around the puff of stuffing.
“A bear’s gotta have a name.” Katie smiled at Henry, then inched closer. Sam started to go in there, to stop her, to tell her Henry was just going to run from her, but Katie kept talking, her voice calm and soft. Mesmerizing. “When I was a little girl, I had a bear like this one. I used to get scared a lot when it was dark, and my big brother, Colton, would find my bear and bring it to me. He would tuck me in and tell me stories until I stopped being scared and I fell asleep. I shared my bear with my brother sometimes, too, and Colton even gave Willard his own nicknames. My bear was my bestest friend when I was little, and I bet this guy is your friend, huh?”
Henry nodded.
“My bear’s name was Willard, but my brother nicknamed him Patch, because he was fixed so many times he had a patch over his belly. He wasn’t near as nice as your bear. So,” Katie said, giving the bodyless bear a little tap on the nose, “what’s his name? I gotta know his name so I can fix him, and tell him it’s all going to be okay.”
Henry shifted from foot to foot. Even though Libby knew the answer, she stood silently behind Katie, staring, waiting, just like Sam was. Katie just gave Henry a patient smile.
Then, very slowly, Henry held out his hand and uncurled his tight fist. A pouf of fiberfill sprang up like a daisy in his palm. “Henry help fix George?”
Henry’s little voice rang like a bell in the quiet of the living room. Libby turned to her father, mouth agape. Sam put a hand on his chest, sure he was hearing things.
Henry had spoken. A handful of words, but to Sam, it might as well have been the Gettysburg Address. Henry had spoken—and Sam’s heart was so full, he was sure it would burst just like the bear.
Katie nodded. “Of course Henry can help. And for the record, I think George is a terrific name for a bear.”
“T’ank you,” Henry said quietly, then he dropped the puff of stuffing into Katie’s lap.
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t give a damn that Katie Williams had come in here looking like she was walking into court. He didn’t give a damn that she didn’t have much, if any, experience. If she could get through to Henry, he had little doubt that she could get through to Libby, too, and restore his daughter’s love for school. Katie had brought about a miracle that no one else had. She’d shifted the tides in a family too long on a rolling ocean, and for Sam, that was résumé enough. “You’re hired.”
Katie wasn’t so sure she’d heard Sam right. She was hired? Just like that?
And did she even really want the job?
She’d be with these two kids for at least an hour at a time if she became Libby’s tutor. Small children with winsome faces and those little-kid voices. The very thing she had been looking forward to, before—
Could she do it? Or would it be too painful?
Katie was still kneeling on the floor between Henry and Libby, holding the tattered remains of George the teddy bear. Libby, who seemed ten times older than her age, came over and stood in front of her. She propped her fists on her tiny hips and cocked her brown curls to one side. “Are you gonna stay?” Libby’s eyes, so like her father’s, clouded. “Just ’cuz, you know, ’cuz our mommy died and...and... I really wanna fix George.”
The naked honesty and pain in Libby’s face was almost too much to bear. Katie could see the yearning for a mother, the way that loss had impacted the little girl in a thousand ways, in the empty shadows in Libby’s eyes. Katie’s heart broke for Libby, and for little Henry, standing there silently, his thumb in his mouth, just watching her. Katie had no doubt Sam loved his kids, but he was clearly overwhelmed,
