Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby: Mother's Day Miracle / Blessed Baby

Not all? Wasn’t that enough? What else could there be? He tried to focus on what she was saying. “Huh?”

“Rita was here today, doing another inspection. She’s, um, pretty steamed.”

“Why?” He eased himself out of the truck, knowing he had to move but wincing at every budge of his smarting muscles. “What happened?”

“You’d better look for yourself.”

Her delicate hands helped him stumble to the sidewalk and up the path. She pushed open the front door and guided him inside.

The living room was littered with stuff, as usual. Smoky, water-soaked stuff, he noticed. Dishes cluttered the kitchen counter and food sat on the table as flies buzzed over it. A huge black spot covered the ceiling, most of the stove and a section of the floor.

He shuddered, immediately alert to the fact that he could hear no children’s voices. “What happened?”

“Tildy was frying. The oil caught on fire.”

That woke him up. He gulped at the idea of his lovely young niece covered in burns.

“She was trying to help Pierce and forgot to pay attention. Jared saw it start and thought he could put it out with a dish towel. That caught on fire too.” She pointed to the corner. “The oil set the cloth alight and when he tossed it to the floor, it caught onto the laundry Lacey was going to wash. I saw smoke and came over. By the time I got here, Pierce had finally found a fire extinguisher and put it out, but by then Rita had already arrived.”

“But where was Mrs. Anders?”

“Apparently the hospital called to say her husband had a heart attack. She told the kids to call me when she couldn’t reach you, but they didn’t want to be a bother. I think Tildy was afraid I’d make her wait to fry. She’s desperate to get an A in that class.”

It was clear to Wade by the glint in her eyes that Clarissa felt the children were reciting his precise words. He clenched his fists, drew a breath and summoned all his courage.

“And? You might as well spit out the rest of it.” His heart dropped to his boots as he surveyed the damage and considered how much worse off they could have been.

“Rita told me to take the kids. I wanted to call you but no one knew where you were.” There was a hint of censure in her voice. “I tried to stall her, but she’d already made her decision by then.”

Wade saw her swallow, heard her voice drop, and knew the worst had happened.

“I think she’s going to recommend foster care, Wade.”

“She can’t!” He couldn’t bear the thought of it, his sister’s kids split apart, separated, living with people who wouldn’t understand them. His own life, empty and barren of the joy they brought, the small glimpses of his sister he caught in each child. Worst of all, the promise would be broken.

He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “She can’t.”

“Yes, Wade. She can. I just wanted to warn you.” Clarissa didn’t meet his glance, but stood staring at her feet, her head bowed in sadness.

Wade stared at the mess he’d made of things. “I should have been here, should have been nearby. Why did I have to pick this afternoon to run to the city for supplies?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Her head lifted as if she’d come to some decision. She studied his face for a long moment, then tugged at his arm. “Come on, Wade.”

“It does matter.” He felt the responsibility and almost bowed under it. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. They could have died. I should have managed better. No matter how hard I try, I never seem to get it right. I messed up here. Again.” He couldn’t look her in the eye, knew he’d see condemnation.

Clarissa’s fingers tightened on his arm. “I’m sure you’ve done the best you could. No one was hurt. And it’s not anyone’s fault. Accidents happen.” She pushed against his chest. “Come with me. I’ve already called the insurance agency. It’s the only one in town, remember. Your renter’s policy covers most of the damage, they think. But you can’t stay here. Not till they’ve assessed the damage.”

He stared at her, his mind numb with the realization that his little family was now homeless. His brain wouldn’t move on from that. He felt the tug on his arm as if through a fog. “Oh. No, I suppose not. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Can you get up?”

Dimly Wade realized that sometime during their conversation he’d flopped down onto one of the kitchen chairs. His eyes noted the places where fire had singed the flooring, and he shivered at the thought of what might have happened.

“Wade?”

“What?” He blinked and refocused on her, forcing his mind to function. “Oh. Get up? Why?”

“You need a shower and something to eat, for one thing. You can have that at my place. The water heater’s turned off here. The firemen said it was better that way. Come on.”

He managed to get up and stumble to the back door, grateful for her calm even voice and the gentle hand under his arm. His brain couldn’t take it all in. It was like a bad dream.

A pile of charred bits of fabric lay outside the back door. Wade stopped in his tracks and stared. He couldn’t seem to move his eyes away, couldn’t stop imagining the scars…

“Wade, listen to me.” Clarissa turned his face toward her, her palms cool again his cheeks.

She felt good, he decided. Soothing. He didn’t even try to free himself. Her flower-soft fragrance tickled his nose. Roses, he thought. Or lavender maybe. Something like his mother would have worn.

Her eyes were clear and calm. “You have to get out of here now, Wade. Everybody is fine. They’re okay. Come on, let’s keep going.”

He moved on only because he knew she would nag him until he did. He walked across the grass, and into her yard with its pretty flowers and trim grass, marveling at the contrast between the two houses. His fingers curled around her small soft hand. Such a tiny hand to be so competent.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled when her other hand slid under his arm. He forced his rubber legs to move one foot in front of the other.

“Of course you are. Three steps up now.” There was a hint of amused mockery in her quiet tones.

“I’m just worried about the kids. My boots—”

“Are fine.” She urged him inside. “Sit down here and drink this.”

He took the cup from her fingers and sipped the dark steaming brew. “I don’t take sugar.”

“Today you do. Drink it.” There was no room for argument in that prim order.

Wade drank, his mind picturing that awful scene again.

“They’re fine, Wade. See, there’s Pierce working on his birds in the front yard. And Tildy’s sitting out there, too. With Ryan Adams. Lacey’s over in the park. You can just see her red shirt through the trees.” She pointed.

Wade followed the direction and caught sight of Lacey’s favorite blouse. “Jared?” he choked, his heart swelling with relief.

“I’m right here. I’m trying to fix this stupid—uh, broken cupboard.” Jared came to stand before his uncle. He frowned. “You don’t look too good, Uncle Wade.”

“That’s funny. I feel fine. Just fine.” Wade noticed his sister’s distinct features in the tall boy and felt the guilt wash over him again. He was growing up so fast. “Are you all right, son?”

“Of course. We all are. Clarissa’s taking care of things. That’s okay, isn’t it, Uncle Wade?” Jared’s face contorted with worry. “You’re not mad that we got her? Tildy didn’t mean to do it, you know. It was an accident.”

“I know. No. It’s perfect. Okay, I mean.” Wade glanced around with bleary eyes, noting the sparkling kitchen, the yeasty fragrance of fresh baked bread, the utter hominess of it all. No matter what he did, his kitchen had never looked like this. He noticed Jared’s frown and refocused.

“It’s just fine,” he repeated, then stopped when his stomach began a low but very audible rumbling.