She tried to step back from the situation and consider what might be going on in his head, but found she was too close to it.
Trent was an adult, though, and would have to deal with his own problems on his own. He’d said often enough in the past three months that he didn’t want her in his life. She’d have to take him at his word. The children were all that mattered now. She had just been handed the job of single-handedly supplying security for four helpless lives. And Trent had certainly made it clear that he had no intention of sharing that burden.
Deep in thought, she wove her way through the solarium and stood before the glass wall of windows at the far side. She looked unseeingly up at the heavens, trying to come to terms with all that had happened. Trent’s brother was dead. Her best friend Sarah was gone, as well. And their beloved children—their gifts from God, as Sarah and Michael had always called them—were now Maggie’s responsibility. Alone.
“Aunt Maggie?”
Maggie turned from the windows and met Rachel’s troubled gaze. “Yes, pumpkin?”
“I feel sad. I keep thinking Mommy and Daddy are still here. Then I remember the accident.”
“It’ll be that way for all of us, for a while but it will get better and those bad memories will fade.”
“Mommy looked different after the accident happened. Really different. I think the policeman told me a lie. She didn’t look like she was asleep the way he said. Mommy and Daddy aren’t asleep, are they? Being in heaven’s not like asleep, is it?”
Maggie struggled for the right words, then remembered the service when her father had died and Jim Dillon’s explanation of death to the children. Rachel had been a toddler then, so she wouldn’t remember. Digging in her purse, Maggie found the peanuts she’d been given on the plane. “See this?” Rachel nodded. “Can you open it?” Rachel took a peanut and studiously opened it. “Now eat it. Chew it all up and swallow it,” Maggie instructed, then took the empty peanut shell and fit it back together. “It looks the same but something’s different, isn’t it? What’s different?” she asked.
“It’s empty now.” Her golden brown eyes were serious.
“That’s why Mommy looked so different. Because what you saw was like her shell. What Mommy really was—the really important part of her—was on the inside. Just like the peanut. Where’s the peanut now?”
“In my tummy.”
“That’s right. The peanut is inside you. And so are Mommy and Daddy. All the things they were, and did with you, and all that happiness and love, are tucked right inside of you. And that can make you stronger. Just like the peanut nourishes your body, Mommy and Daddy’s memory can nourish your soul All you have to do is close your eyes and remember a happy time. Let’s try it right now. Close your eyes and tell me what you see.”
“We had a picnic yesterday with our ice-cream cones. Daddy was sitting down, and Daniel was running around. He tripped and the ice cream came off the cone and fell right on Daddy’s head. Daddy looked so surprised and so did Daniel. Then Daddy growled and tackled Daniel and rubbed his gooey hair all over Daniel’s shirt, and the cold ice cream got on his tummy. We all just laughed and laughed. Then Mommy acted like they were bad and sent them to the washroom to get clean. It was really funny. Daddy pouted just like Daniel about having to get clean.” In a deep voice Rachel said, “‘Do I gotta? Do I gotta?’” Then she giggled. “He was so funny.” Her dark eyes flew open, and she hugged Maggie about the hips. “Oh, thank you, Aunt Maggie. I really do feel better.”
“I’m glad,” Maggie said and hugged Rachel against her. She smoothed a hand over her long strawberry-blond hair, and fought tears.
“Kids are so resilient,” Ed said as Rachel skipped off to the play area reserved for children in the corner of the large waiting room.
Maggie narrowed her teary eyes and considered Ed. “Why are you here?” she asked, then added, “Really. No more excuses.”
Ed’s dry chuckle vibrated in the room. “Always right to the point, aren’t you? Okay. I’m along because I want to make sure your guardianship is clearly established in Florida. It didn’t sound as if Mickey will be able to be moved to Pennsylvania any time soon.”
“And?” she prodded.
Ed sighed and gestured toward a grouping of sofas and chairs across the room. “Let’s sit down. We need to come up with a strategy in case his parents try something. The least I can do is make sure Michael’s wishes are carried out. He didn’t want those two getting their hands on his kids. He felt so strongly about it that he made me write it in his will.”
“How did his parents take the news of their deaths?” Maggie asked as she settled across from Ed.
“About the way you’d expect. They looked shocked at first, then ‘appropriately’ sad for a few seconds each. Next came the legal questions and annoyance that you and Trent were named guardians.”
“Sounds just like my loving parents,” Trent said from behind them. “What else did they say?” he asked as he walked to stand in front of them.
“That, in light of your separation, of course they would be happy to ‘take the kids off your hands,’ Trent.”
Anger flared in Maggie’s gaze. “Take them off Trent’s hands! I guess they knew their oldest son at least. He doesn’t want them. He just told me. And what did they say about me?”
“As far as they’re concerned, you don’t enter the equation. The children aren’t your blood relatives, so the Osbornes feel you have no rights regardless of their son’s will.” Ed fixed Trent with a steely look. “We’re in for trouble if you keep this up, Trent, because your parents will never let Maggie raise those kids alone. Not only should you not continue with the divorce, but I suggest you consider moving into Michael and Sarah’s house. Together.”
Trent’s heart thundered, echoing in his head. None of this is happening, his mind screamed. But there was no waking from this living nightmare. Maggie stared up at him, pushing her dark chestnut hair behind her ear, her deep brown eyes wide and expectant. It hurt just being in the room with her, knowing he couldn’t even reach out and touch her, yet wanting—no, needing to. And to have her look at him with so much hope and anxiety nearly destroyed his control
He turned away.
And his gaze came to rest on little Rachel across the room in a play center, rocking the tattered baby doll that had been her constant companion since her first birthday. There she sat, a sweet child, loving that doll as if it were still clean and pretty, fresh from the box. He blinked away sudden burning in his eyes. His parents would destroy that sweetness and throw that “disgraceful thing” in the trash. He knew because he remembered his own fury when one day just after he’d started school his own blue bear had disappeared.
And Mickey. If he didn’t improve, they’d see him as “damaged.” Trent would never forget overhearing his mother railing at Michael’s fourth-grade teacher for suggesting that he was learning disabled. “My son is not damaged! You are just an inferior teacher,” she’d told the woman. And poor Michael had stood there with her, hearing it all
