laughed until their faces were red and wet with tears. I wished I could bag them all up and bring them home with me, but I bet they were a lot of work if you had to tend to their needs for more than an hour a week.
My reading selections for today were
My books stacked, I finished some odds and ends in preparation. I was just throwing out the too-stubby coloring crayons from the art bucket I kept on hand when in strolled Elizabeth Berns.
“I hope I’m not bothering you.”
I looked from the stack of books to her and decided I might as well be gracious. “I suppose not.” I didn’t say I was good at it.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a minute. Is it about your mom?”
She fiddled with her expensive-looking amber bracelet. “Conrad wants her admitted to the new home before Halloween.”
My heart hardened. “What? I thought you two were going to monitor her for a little bit first, get a feel for her day-to-day life.”
“I wanted to, but Conrad said there isn’t time. He thinks she’s marrying that Bernard guy so she won’t get sent away and that we better move fast or we won’t have any say in her life.”
Was there steam coming out of my ears? I was too angry to even speak.
“I know how that sounds, believe me I do. Conrad and I fighting her fiance for control of her life.”
“Then why’d you say it?”
“Can I tell you a story?” She smiled uncomfortably. “When I was a little girl, my mom was my hero. Life wasn’t easy but she always made time to read to us, sewed beautiful clothes for us, and made the best from-scratch food in the county. She was famous for her buttermilk biscuits. They were rich and crusty, and we’d smother them in her homemade raspberry jam. When I was eight, my brothers and sisters and I decided we were going to make those biscuits for her for Mother’s Day. She would get breakfast in bed.” Elizabeth’s eyes grew sad.
“What happened?”
“We ruined them, of course, and almost burned down the kitchen in the process. Dad, bless his Swedish heart, was livid. He yelled at mom for being foolish enough to let a bunch of little kids cook. She had to spend the rest of the day scrubbing the soot off the wall and cleaning her kitchen and cookware. We never ventured in her kitchen again, even though she didn’t say one mean word to us. In fact, she thanked us kindly for trying to make a special morning for her. Don’t you see? How could I forgive myself if I let something happen to that woman?”
A frustrated tear leaked out the edge of Elizabeth’s eye, and I realized in a rush of joy that she’d already made up her mind, had, in fact, made it up before she’d walked in the door. She wasn’t going to sign the papers, but she needed me, someone who knew and loved her mom as she was now, to convince her it was okay. “You and your family are very lucky,” I started tentatively. “Your mother sounds like she had a level head.”
Elizabeth pulled a tissue out of her purse and nodded.
“She still does, despite her escapades,” I continued. “I can’t promise she’ll be fine, because I can’t promise that about anyone. I can tell you that she’s happy, and that sending her away would ruin her.”
“Do you think she loves Bernard?”
“No,” I said honestly. “I think she’s just marrying him to get you and Conrad out of her hair.”
Elizabeth sniffled. “Are we that bad?”
I raised my eyebrows. They’re my best feature when it comes to conveying judgment.
“Don’t be too hard on us. Conrad means well. It was hardest on him to lose Dad, and then to feel like he didn’t know his mom anymore. He’s been trying to fix that ever since Dad passed, to bring back the mom he remembers.”
“Don’t help him to force his needs on Mrs. Berns.”
“I won’t,” she said, drawing in a shaky sigh. “But I’ve got to figure out how to tell Conrad that.”
“The direct route is the best.” At least that’s what I’d read.
“Thanks, Mira. I mean it. My mom really loves you, and I know you’ve done a lot for her. I wish… never mind.”
“What?”
“It’s silly. I just wish I had the type of relationship with her that you do. I suppose I live too far away.”
“Not today, you don’t. Take her out for a night on the town. If you start out by telling her that you’re not sending her up the river, I bet you two’ll have a great time.”
She smiled. “Probably I should wait until I’ve convinced Conrad to let her stay in Battle Lake. You have a good day, and thank you. I mean that.”
She gave me a hug and left me feeling relieved. If she could convince Conrad that Mrs. Berns was not mentally incompetent, then Mrs. Berns wouldn’t need to get married. That put me into all sorts of good mood, and as the children began strolling in, I high-fived each one of them and led them to a spot on the reading circle. In about ten minutes I had the group settled on the floor, their mothers and one father looking exhausted but hopeful, when in walked Kenya.
She plopped down at the outskirts of the circle. “Oh good! I was hoping I’d make it.”
“This is for kids,” Walter, the child nearest her, exclaimed. He was three years old but would swear he was four if you asked.
“I know! I love children’s stories. Do you mind if I stay?”
And the children, with their blanket acceptance, all agreed she was perfectly welcome to stay and would be even more welcome if she happened to have some loose candy on her. She didn’t.
I began the story, not as accepting as the kids. Kenya was a click off of normal, and I didn’t like her imposing on my happy place. Still, she did look bright-eyed and turned out to be gifted with children, helping them to achieve the down dog and stretching cat poses and redirecting their attention to me when Walter accidentally tooted during the frog pose. By the time story hour was over, she had two children in her lap and another one braiding her hair.
A few kids stayed after to read books with their parents, but most of them cleared out for lunch and naptime. Kenya stayed after.
“Hope it didn’t bother you that I showed,” she said. “I saw the flyer for kids reading time when I was here yesterday. I love kids. I’d love to open a daycare someday, actually.”
“Why don’t you?”
Yesterday, she’d seemed on drugs, and today she was sane as a judge. I decided there’d be no percentage in commenting on her mood swings.
She made a grimace. “My parents say it’d be a waste of a good brain. I’m studying engineering at the University of North Dakota.”
“Maybe you could engineer a daycare?”
She laughed at my lame joke. “I wanted to thank you, too.”
“For what?”
“For being so nice to me yesterday, and for helping me to see the light. I’m getting a little old to be rebelling against my parents, you know? My mom was released from jail last night, and we had a good talk. She seems like she’s learned a little humility. My dad couldn’t make it yet-the insurance business is booming, you know-but the police said we can go back to Moorhead tomorrow morning. No offense, but it’ll be a relief to be back with my friends, and even back in my stupid classes.”
“The police are letting you go home?”
“Well, they could never officially hold us, except for when mom was in jail. They just asked for our cooperation in staying close, and mom has to always be a friend to the law. Whoops! There I go again. Old habits die hard. She
