forced herself to speak firmly and steadily as she continued. “When I was about Evan’s age, I remember my mother making milk tea for me. And I always got two cookies. Of course, I always chose the two biggest ones.” She contemplated how best to connect with Evan. “My mother died a few years ago. So no one reads me bedtime stories anymore but that’s okay because now I can read them to Evan.”
From the slight tilt of his head she knew he listened.
She poured the tea and gave a cupful to Hugh and Grandfather. She made milk tea and set the cup and a small plate holding two cookies before Evan then sat across from Hugh.
He gave her a smile that seemed to say he approved of her efforts. Good. It meant they were headed in the right direction. He’d soon learn she had much to offer him and his son.
She sipped her tea slowly and enjoyed the two cookies she had chosen and then opened the storybook. It was the same one her mother had read from when Annie was Evan’s age and as the memories of those days assailed her, tears filled her eyes and clogged her throat. Not wanting Hugh to see how fragile her emotions were, she kept her head lowered.
“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment.
She nodded, unable to speak.
Grandfather squeezed her hand. “It’s okay to miss your mama.”
“Of course it is,” Hugh assured her.
A strangled squeak drew the attention of all three adults to Evan. His shoulders twitched. As if he cried? It was impossible to tell as he kept his back to them.
Annie looked to Hugh. Raised her eyebrows to silently ask if they should go to him.
He lifted his shoulders ever so slightly. He didn’t know any more than she did and his mouth worked.
Her heart tore at the sign of his uncertainty. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to watch his son struggle with so many problems and not know if any offer of comfort would send him into a fury...one born of fear, she was certain. It made her doubly grateful to have had a tender mother and a supportive family and she promised herself she would give Evan the same if he would let her.
It seemed no one quite knew what to do and she could only think of one thing so she cleared her throat and began to read. The book was a collection of Bible stories and moral tales and her favorite had always been about the old farm dog who rescued some orphaned kittens and raised them. The dog fought off a coyote that tried to get the kittens and chased away a hawk. At one point she was sorely injured but kept on tending the three kittens.
“The moral of the story,” Annie read, “is that God loves us even better than that dog loved her kittens. He claims us because He loves us. He takes care of us—1 John 3 verse 1 says ‘Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.’” She needed to say more for Evan’s sake. “Some children are in families they weren’t born into and they are loved. My brother Logan and his wife adopted three children.” It struck her that the children’s circumstances were somewhat like Evan’s. They’d been neglected and abused by a man claiming to be their stepfather. Perhaps now was not the time to talk about that. “And my brother Conner and his wife have adopted a little girl and love her dearly. My oldest brother Dawson has a little girl but his wife died so Mattie had no mama.” She sensed Evan straining toward her. “Dawson married a very fine lady by the name of Isabelle and Isabelle is Mattie’s new mama. They love each other very much. God loves each of us even more.”
She and Hugh considered one another across the table. The tension seemed to have left his face. If the things she’d said had accomplished that then thanks be to God for guiding her words.
“My mama or papa always said prayers with me before bed.”
Hugh nodded. “I’m the papa so I will do it.”
Annie knew he wasn’t excluding her but simply helping Evan understand his role in the family.
“Let’s pray,” Hugh said and the adults bowed their heads.
Annie stole a look at Evan. He had turned his head slightly to watch his father. She knew the boy would have showed her his thin back if he realized she watched him and would have disguised the longing in his eyes. Seeing it gave Annie hope. Evan knew what he wanted but was afraid to trust it could be his.
It was up to Annie and Hugh and even Grandfather to prove to Evan that he could trust their love and concern.
Hugh prayed for a good night’s sleep for them all. He asked for people to be safe in the cold winter wind and he especially thanked God for allowing him to find Evan and bring him home.
Annie continued to watch the boy from under the curtain of her lashes and saw wonder and doubt intermingled in his face.
“Amen.” Hugh met Annie’s eyes across the table. His eyes were troubled.
She understood he didn’t look forward to getting Evan into bed. She rose. “My mama always said it was time for me to go to sleep after the prayers were said.”
Evan crowded into the corner as if he wanted to become part of the walls.
Annie tipped her head toward Hugh. It had to be done. She went to Hugh’s side. “We’re in this together,” she murmured.
“Thanks.” With a deep sigh, he got to his feet and faced his son. “Evan, it’s bedtime and I’m going to take you to bed.”
The boy stiffened and then his legs windmilled.
“Evan,” Annie said. “We all have our own beds and we all sleep in them. That’s what people in a family do. Grandfather sleeps in his bed. I sleep in mine. You sleep in yours with your papa in his.”
Hugh sucked in air like his lungs had no bottom and then gathered the boy in his arms. As expected, Evan tried to kick, tried to squirm from Hugh’s grasp, but Hugh was prepared and held his son firmly.
Seeing the look of distress on both of their faces, Annie started after Hugh.
“I’ll be right here,” Grandfather said.
“I have to help with Evan,” Annie said, following Hugh down the hallway to the room he and Evan shared.
She had taken care of three brothers, a father and grandfather so stepping into a room where a male slept was nothing new to her and yet this was different and her cheeks burned as she glanced about. There was a mattress against the far wall and a tangle of blankets. There was also a narrow bed with the covers pulled tight. Odd, the men in her family never made their beds. She had assumed men simply didn’t know how or didn’t care. She took in the rest of the room. A wardrobe with the door closed. A coat hanging from a hook on the wall. A table next to the bed which held a lamp, a Bible and three books stacked neatly. From under the bed peeked a valise.
Hugh was a neat, orderly man.
She liked that. However she couldn’t dwell on her reaction as Hugh struggled with Evan.
He reached the mattress and set Evan down. “Time to go to sleep, son.”
The tenderness in Hugh’s voice caused Annie’s throat to constrict.
A keening
