let me get that,” Connie offered, reaching for the door handle.
She pulled it open and stepped aside as Kendal bent down, clutching Larissa firmly. He deposited the child in her car seat, but when he attempted to pull the straps of the safety harness up over her shoulders, she crossed her arms and kicked him. He jerked back but said nothing, caught both of her feet in one hand and held them down as he reached for the harness straps with the other. Obviously, he wasn’t going to get it done with one hand.
“Can I help?” Connie asked.
“Would you mind?”
She heard the cringing in his voice, the shame at what he perceived to be his personal failure.
“Not at all,” Connie said brightly, squeezing into the open space beside him.
Larissa stopped crying the instant Connie drew near and allowed her to gently uncross her arms so her father could slide the harness straps in place and bring them together over her chest. Connie smiled and attempted to keep the child engaged while he fit together the two sections of the restraint system and pushed them into the lock.
“There now. That’s right,” Connie crooned. Larissa watched her avidly, as if she was memorizing her face. “What a pretty girl you are when you aren’t crying.” She stroked her hand over the child’s pale-blond hair and heard the lock click at last. “All ready to go see the doctor?”
Larissa blinked and jabbed two fingers into her mouth. Her nose was running, so Connie dug into her coat pocket for a tissue. She had second thoughts before she touched the tissue to that tiny nose, but Larissa turned up her chin and closed her eyes while Connie gently cleaned her nose. But then Connie pocketed the tissue once more and backed away. Larissa’s eyes popped open and she howled like a banshee, drumming her heels and reaching toward Connie.
Dismayed, Connie could only watch as Kendal closed the door on his daughter’s howls of protest.
“Oh, dear.”
“It’s all right,” he said, two bright red splotches staining the flesh drawn tight over his cheekbones. “When she gets like this…” He clutched his keys. “She’ll calm down in a few minutes. She likes Dr. Stenhope, I think.”
Connie couldn’t control her grimace and then had to explain it.
“I don’t have anything against psychiatrists. It’s just that your daughter is so young for that sort of care. I know the two of you must have been through a lot.”
The look that he turned on her said it all. The man was confused, harassed, deeply worried.
“I don’t know how else to help her,” he admitted bluntly. Then he cleared his throat and smiled. “I appreciate your assistance.”
“Anytime.”
He would have turned away, but Connie impulsively reached out a hand, setting it lightly on his forearm.
“I’ll pray for you,” she told him softly.
A muscle in the hollow of one cheek quivered as he lay his much larger hand over hers.
The next instant, he abruptly jerked away and stepped back, saying, “Please do.”
Quickly, he opened the front door of the car and dropped down behind the steering wheel. In the backseat, Larissa still reached for Connie, her cries both angry and desperate.
As the sedan drove away, Connie pictured the child inside.
She really was a beautiful little thing with her pale-blond hair and plump cheeks. She had her father’s cinnamon-brown eyes, but hers were rounder and wider, and something about the way Larissa looked at a person felt vaguely troubling. It was as if she constantly searched for something, someone.
Connie sensed the child’s fear, anger and frustration, emotions with which she could strongly identify. She had never known her own father and had few pleasant memories of her mother, but she remembered all too well being separated from her brother and then later her sister. Alone and confused, she had desperately sought comfort from those in whose care she had been placed, only to find herself also suddenly separated from them. That pattern had repeated itself over the years.
At times, the anger and neediness had overwhelmed her, but unlike her older sister, Jolie, Connie could not express herself in cold contempt or outright displays of temper. Instead, she tended to hide away and weep endlessly for hours, then blindly latch on to the first friendly person she could find. All too often, they hadn’t really been her friends at all. It seemed to be an unwritten law that the users of this world could recognize the neediest of their companions at a glance. Thank God that He had led her out of that.
Chilled, Connie folded her arms and turned back into the building. She smiled at Millie and walked down the hallway to her son’s room.
Russell was ready and waiting for her, his coat on, a sheet of paper to which cotton balls had been glued clutched in one hand. Miss Susan held him in her arms behind the half door, rubbing his nose against hers. He giggled, throwing back his bright-red head, and spied Connie.
“Mama!” he called gaily, his big, blue eyes shining.
He leaned toward her and she caught him up against her, hugging him close.
“Hello, my angel. Were you a good boy today?”
“Sweet as pie,” Miss Susan said.
Connie smiled in response. “Say bye-bye to Miss Susan.”
Russell raised a hand and folded his fingers forward. “Bye-bye.”
“Bye-bye, cutie. See you soon.”
“Thank you, Miss Susan.”
“Anytime. We’re always glad to see him.”
“Well, if I start school—or when, rather—he’s apt to become a regular.”
“That’d be fine,” Miss Susan told her. “He’s such a happy, little thing.”
Connie knew whom she had to thank for that.
Oh, it was true that Russell possessed a sweet, placid nature, but even the best-natured child would fret and act out in the grip of insecurity, and Russell could easily have been such a child. Being born in a prison was not the best way to start out in life, but Jolie, bless her, had seen to it that he had a loving, structured home until Connie, with the help of their brother, could see to it herself.
She and her son didn’t have much money or even a two-parent home, but they were blessed nevertheless.
Connie thought of Larissa Oakes and the turmoil that seemed to spill out all around her and she hugged her son a little closer.
Truly, they were blessed. They had Marcus and Jolie and now even Vince and the other Cutlers. Whatever terrors and shame her past held, whatever uncertainties and limitations clouded her future, her little boy would always know love and the security of family and faith to keep him strong and whole.
She couldn’t ask for anything more.
Chapter
