ask me. Ashley waved her hand, just in case Miss Peters couldn’t see it up there.
“Ashley?”
“Mommy’s Day.” Whoosh. There. She’d got it out.
“Right!” Miss Peters smiled again. “Mother’s Day.”
Ashley bobbed in her seat. She’d done it. And she couldn’t wait to tell Mommy. After all, Mommy’s Day was the most special day in the whole wide world. ‘Cause it was all about God giving Ashley to Mommy.
God was really smart, even if He was old. ‘Cause He gave Ashley the best, prettiest mommy in the whole wide world. Miss Peters baby-talked some more and Ashley sank down in her seat, looking at all the other kids to make sure no one saw what she was thinking. She didn’t want them to know that God gave her the best mommy, ’cause that meant theirs weren’t as good and that would be a not-nice thing for them to know.
She also didn’t want to have bad thoughts, in case God might change His mind and give her some other mommy, instead. Like Nathan’s. Yuck.
Staring at one of the bright-red flowers on Miss Peters’s dress, she tried really hard to pay attention.
JUST AFTER TWELVE. Jamie Archer hummed to herself as she pulled into the drive at Ashley’s preschool. This was her favorite time. Her work for the day was done; she’d finished the Worth’s Flower Shop books early and was ready to start on her tax clients the next morning. The rest of the afternoon and evening belonged to Ashley.
Snuggled in her black wool jacket, she faced January’s brisk cold as she raced for the door, eager to collect the girls. Karen Smith, Jamie’s next-door neighbor and closest friend, had chili and crackers waiting at home for them. Karen’s daughter, Kayla, was Ashley’s best friend, car-pool buddy and preschool classmate. The two girls had been inseparable since the day Jamie and Ashley had moved to Larkspur Grove, Colorado, a little town outside Denver, two years before.
Jamie hated to think what would happen if the girls were put in separate classes when they started kindergarten in the fall.
“Mommy!”
Jamie’s heart skipped a happy beat as it always did when she heard her daughter’s voice.
She bent down just in time to catch the little whirlwind who hurled herself into Jamie’s arms. Anyone might think they’d been apart for days rather than the two and a half hours it had actually been. But sometimes these preschool mornings, away from Ashley, felt so much longer to Jamie.
“Hi, punkin, how was school?” she asked.
“Good. I got to answer Mommy’s Day!”
“Good girl!” Jamie gave Ashley one more hug before releasing the child. Even after four years, it was sometimes difficult to believe that this little girl was actually hers.
“Where’s Kayla?” She looked around the huge room filled with miniature furniture and a confusing array of mothers collecting children.
“She had to go potty,” Ashley said, trotting off to get her coat.
“Miss Jamie!”
Jamie turned as she recognized the other little voice in her life, and grabbed Kayla up for a hug. “Did you remember to wipe?” she asked. Kayla was often in too much of a hurry to finish what she started—much to Karen’s chagrin.
“Uh-huh.” Kayla nodded, her blue eyes wide. “Ashley knew Mommy’s Day,” she informed her importantly.
“I heard!” Jamie set the little girl down and helped them both zip up their parkas.
And as she escorted the two young children out into the parking lot, one tiny hand each in each of hers, she listened eagerly to their continuous chatter. There was no job more important, nothing on earth she’d rather be doing.
For the first time since she was Ashley’s age, Jamie had everything she could possibly want.
KAREN RAN our of crackers. A near catastrophe, seeing that Ashley just couldn’t eat chili without crackers. And besides, Kayla had already had five crackers and Ashley had had only three. Not bothering with her coat, Jamie hurried across the yard separating their homes, sure she had a box of saltines in the cupboard.
And saw the light blinking on her answering machine as she ran in the door. Hoping the light meant another client—an answer to the plea she’d sent out via Dr. Patterson, dean of Gunnison University—Jamie pushed the play-back button.
Ashley wanted to take dance lessons. Jamie needed to come up with the extra money to pay for them.
“Hi, Jamie. Kyle Radcliff calling. As of today, I’m the new English professor at Gunnison University. Could you give me a call, please?”
With a shaking hand, Jamie wrote down the number he rattled off. But as she dropped the pencil, the marks she was staring at through glazed eyes were barely legible.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Limbs suddenly weak, she clung to the counter, trying to keep down the portion of lunch she’d managed to eat.
Just like that.
He wanted her to call him.
Just like that. Her life was over.
She’d been found.
DRAWING ON the strength that came with motherhood, Jamie stood upright, forcing herself to breathe deeply, struggling to hold herself together. Ashley needed crackers. Was waiting for her mother to bring them. Jamie reached into the cupboard.
Yes. Just as she’d thought. There was an unopened box. Enough to keep both girls happy for the rest of the meal. Crackers were good. She was glad she had them.
Hugging the box, Jamie walked slowly back across the yard. The icy air didn’t penetrate. She didn’t notice the blue sky or the blinding glare reflecting off snow-covered yards. Ashley was waiting for crackers. Jamie had crackers. That was good.
“Mommy got crackers! Hooray!”
Jamie smiled automatically, holding up the box of crackers for the prize it was, as her daughter’s greeting met her at Karen’s kitchen door.
“Thank goodness.” Karen rolled her eyes dramatically, grinning. She took the box even before Jamie slid into her chair.
“Thank Mommy,” Ashley insisted, her brows creased with the seriousness of her correction.
Jamie’s heart started to shatter.
Divvying up the goods, Karen reminded the girls that as soon as they finished their chili, they could watch The Little Mermaid again. Jamie heard her. Heard the girls’ chorus of hoorays. She looked at her half-eaten bowl of chili. The spoon she knew she should be picking up.
“Something wrong?” Karen’s voice was soft, barely audible beneath the
