Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1), Babette Jongh [books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT] 📗

Understanding flared in his eyes. “I think so.” He still seemed embarrassed but relieved he hadn’t wet the bed like a baby.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to wait for your dad to get home and talk with him?”

“I’ll wait.” The faintest glimmer of a smile faded almost before I saw it.

“Just so you know, what happened to you is perfectly normal. It may happen again. But it’s no big deal. Just part of growing up.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Get under the covers and sleep fast. Morning comes earlier than usual, since we have to find a bunch of moss before school.” I’d thought of several places we could go without venturing into the canal, but it would still take a while to drive to them all and gather specimens. I turned out the bedside lamp. “See you in the morning.”

“G’night, Casey. Thanks.”

I had just begun to relax into sleep again when a small hand touched my face. “Can I sleep with you? It’s dark in my room.”

“Sure, Amy.” I pulled back the covers. “Come on. I’ll snuggle you up.”

It felt so right, holding her little body close to mine, absorbing her warmth and giving her a little of my own.

But if this was so right, why wasn’t I happier about doing it?

*

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, flew by. Not like an orderly arrow of ducks across the sky. More like a murmuration of Starlings going first one way, then the other, then in five different directions at once. Time seems to do that when you’re over-committed and three steps behind.

Between my teaching schedule and taking care of the kids, getting them where they needed to be when they needed to be there, struggling through math homework Jake didn’t understand and I didn’t remember how to do, I woke up exhausted on Friday. Exhausted, but humming the Hallelujah Chorus because I knew Ben would be home the next day, and I’d be able to pass the torch back to him.

One day from freedom, I sat at Melody’s kitchen table, sipping coffee and petting Lizzie with my slippered foot. The kids still dreamed in their beds, but in another fifteen minutes, I’d wake them up and help them get ready for school. Soon, I’d be free again, free to get back to my quiet life with a new appreciation of what it was like to be a parent.

Never again would I judge any of my ballet moms for being late, for forgetting to pay their kid’s tuition, for not coming to meetings, or not reading the notes I sent.

Being a parent was hard, when it wasn’t fucking impossible. Now, I knew first-hand about the day-in-day-out chores. The morning rush of getting everyone ready for school. The pride of watching the kids you loved and resented and felt inadequate to help as they shouldered backpacks and walked into school without a backward glance.

They’re growing up so fast, Mel. In just these few weeks, they’ve grown so much. I wish you could see them.

I thought again of Melody’s last request. This was exactly what she wanted me to do. Be here in her place. She couldn’t be part of her children’s lives anymore, but I could.

Did I owe it to her to experience the things she could never know again?

The sweet warm weight of Amy climbing into my lap in the morning.

The emerging beauty and grace and wisdom of Maryann.

The strength and resilience and stubborn hardheadedness of Jake.

They were all growing up so fast, extra-fast because Melody wasn’t there. Did I owe it to them to soften the effect of her absence by being there myself? I didn’t have time to wonder, because Jake stomped into the kitchen. “My phone is dead! It’s been plugged in all night, but my charger isn’t working. I told Dad to get me a new one, but he—”

Maryann was right behind him, drowning out Jake’s complaints with her own. “The dryer cut off before my jeans got dry. Now what am I going to do? I’ll be late, and—”

I was still trying to figure out whether my semi-clean jeans would fit Maryann when Amy screamed from her room. “Casey, I wet the bed!”

I slugged back my coffee, bundled peed-on sheets into the washer, handed out pop-tarts and herded everybody into the car. My jeans did fit Maryann, though not to her liking. I was still wearing pajamas and flip-flops, but at this point, I’d have considered going out naked.

Lizzie, wisely, declined to partake in the proceedings. She crept into the living room, leapt onto the couch and burrowed under the 1970s multicolored afghan Mel’s mom had knitted a hundred years ago. Needing a cocktail before my morning caffeine had kicked in, I dropped Ben’s kids off at school.

Then I did a happy dance, because Ben would be home tomorrow.

At three o’clock that afternoon, sitting in the pickup lane of the junior-high school with Amy dozing in her car seat and Lizzie waiting at Ben’s house, I realized I’d started happy-dancing too soon when Jake stalked toward my car with a furious scowl. “Where were you?”

Maryann got into the back seat and tried to calm Jake with a hand on his shoulder. “Casey’s not late.”

He sent a daggered glare my way.

Here we go again. I entered the slow crawl of traffic heading away from the school. I didn’t want to ask, but I did anyway. “What’s the matter?”

“Everything you told me on the math homework was wrong. I had to sit out recess and do it over again. Me and all the dummies.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry.” I’d never been a whiz at math.

“Mom would have been able to figure it out.”

“Jake, hush.” Maryann put her hand on his shoulder again. “Casey, he didn’t mean it.”

Jake slapped her hand away. “Yes, I did.”

Amy started crying, roused from a light doze by Jake’s loud voice. “Stop yelling, you’re waking me up.”

“Shut up, Jake!” Maryann started howling, too.

“Come up here and make me,” Jake yelled.