Need You Now (6 page)

Brad nodded as he swallowed. “Are all the kids autistic?”

“No. But they are all challenged in some way. One of the girls is Grace's age, and . . .” Darlene paused as she took a deep breath. “She has the mind of a four-year-old. I met her today. Her name is Mindy. And I met another girl named Tina who is also emotionally challenged.”

“So you'll be working with the kids?”

“Yes. I'll actually be working directly with a little girl named Cara. She's twelve and autistic. But she's high-functioning, meaning she can talk, just not a lot, and she's easily distracted.” Darlene smiled. “I don't know much yet, but I met her briefly today, and she's a lovely girl.”

“But you don't have a degree or experience.” Brad looked up from his plate and wished right away that he hadn't made the remark. His wife bit her bottom lip and stared at her plate. “I'm sure you'll be great at it, babe. I'm just surprised that you don't need a degree.”

“It's just an entry-level aide position,” she said as she picked at her food. Brad could have kicked himself. Then she looked up, lifted her eyes to his. “I'm so excited about it, though.”

“I'm excited too.” He smiled broadly at her. “I think it's great. It's what you wanted, and you'll be able to meet more people in the community.” Glad he hadn't hurt her feelings too badly, he reached for another roll. “So how often do you go in— one or two days a week?”

“Every day.”

Brad stopped chewing. “For how many hours?”

“Eight to five.”

“I thought you were looking for a part-time job, Dar. Eight to five?”

“I know I should have talked to you before I accepted the job.” She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, then looked up at him. “But I really want to do this. I know it's a lot to take on, but it's right down the road. I'll still have time to make dinner for everyone when I get home, and . . . maybe I'll learn . . . you know . . .” She shrugged, then started picking at her food again. “How to deal with Ansley better sometimes.”

Brad stiffened. There wasn't anything wrong with Ansley. “I don't think you can compare Ansley to the kids at that school.”

“I'm not comparing, just saying that sometimes I don't understand what's going on in Ansley's head is all.”

Brad pushed his critical thoughts aside and refocused on his wife's new endeavor. He had plenty of friends whose wives worked full-time jobs and tended families, and he'd heard their mixed reviews. He put his fork down and looked up at Darlene, her beautiful eyes longing for his approval. “I think you will be the best teacher in the world. I think all the students will love you. And I think that school is blessed that you walked in their door.”

Her face lit up instantly. “Thank you, Brad.”

“When do you start?”

“A week from Monday. And I don't have to dress up or anything. Just jeans or Capri pants. Very casual.”

“My wife, the working girl. Guess you've already been doing it for years. You just didn't get paid for it before.” Brad smiled. Darlene had always been a homemaker, and although he found it challenging to be as excited as his wife, her happiness was the most important thing. Her life revolved around the kids, and she'd always said that's what fulfilled her, but he supposed she needed more—or something different—these days. He missed the early part of their marriage, when her life revolved around him. It was a selfish feeling, and given the chance to steal her away from their children, he would have declined. But now, as she shared this news, he couldn't help but worry their time together as a couple would be rarer than ever. He'd pray about that later. For now, he was going to enjoy the chicken spaghetti . . . and the way his wife was playfully batting her eyes at him from the other end of the table.

He ate faster.

On the morning of her big day, Darlene climbed out of bed the same time as Brad. She wanted to get ready for her first day of work and still have time to make breakfast for the kids. Brad usually just ate a banana or muffin en route to Houston.

As she curled the ends of her hair, Brad brushed his teeth in the sink next to hers. She hoped he was on board with her new job. Over the last week, she'd sensed that he was worried about the time commitment, even though he did his best to assure her otherwise. Darlene was worried about the time she'd be away from home also. She'd made arrangements with the school for Ansley to have a tutor work with her for an extra hour each day since Darlene wouldn't be home to help her with her homework after school.

“I should be home by five fifteen, in plenty of time to straighten things up and make dinner, and if—”

“Darlene . . .” He spit toothpaste in the sink, then turned to face her. “It's gonna be fine. The kids are older now, and you need to make them help out more anyway.” He kissed her on the cheek. “This is important to you, and we will all get by just fine.”

She'd been with Brad since she was eighteen years old. He knew her.
Really
knew her. And sometimes she suspected he said exactly what he thought she wanted to hear. But this morning, she'd take it. She was nervous enough without having to worry about her household falling apart because she went to work. And Brad was right; the kids did need to help out more.

“Thank you for saying that.”

He pulled a shirt from a hanger and slipped it on. Buttoning up, he turned to her. “If having some extra spending money will make you happy, then I'm happy. So don't worry about things around here.”

They'd always stayed on a fairly strict budget, so having some money that wasn't included in those numbers would be a nice perk. “It's not just that. I'll be able to meet some new people too. You have friends at your office, and I'd like to have some relationships outside of just . . .” She turned off her curling iron, put it on the counter, and shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

Brad nodded. “I get it. Really. We'll make some adjustments. And when I get home tonight, I want to hear all about your first day.”

She still felt the need to justify, if not to Brad, to herself. “My first month's salary will be enough to repair the roof over Ansley's room.”

“Honey, I'll take care of that.” He sat down on the bed and put on his socks and shoes. “Use the money you make at your job to buy something for you.”

She'd never spent much money on herself for clothes, shoes, or personal items. Always on the kids or the house. Not to say she'd let herself go—she'd like to think not. But a variety of nice clothes hadn't seemed essential, even when they were in Houston. “Maybe,” she said as she slipped into a pair of black slacks and a white blouse. All her blue jeans were a little too ragged to feel comfortable wearing to work. Maybe that would be first on her shopping list. New jeans.

Brad stood and smiled at her. “Okay, knock 'em dead. I love you.” He kissed her and hurried out of the room.

A few minutes later, she was downstairs heating up some leftover blueberry muffins.

“Guess this is what we have to look forward to from now on,” Chad said as he eased into a chair at the table. “Leftovers.” He chuckled.

“You look nice, Mom.” Ansley slid in beside her brother, cutting her eyes at him.

“Thank you, Ansley. Where's Grace?” Darlene put a tub of butter on the table.

“Here I am.” Grace walked into the room and slipped into a chair before reaching for a muffin. Darlene noticed her Capri jeans and brown, long-sleeved shirt but decided not to say anything. When the temperatures hit a hundred degrees in another month or two, she was sure Grace would opt for cooler blouses.

Darlene put her hands on her hips. “Now, listen. I don't want this house a wreck when I get home. You're all going to be home almost two hours before me, so pick up after yourselves. And I've left a list of weekly chores on the refrigerator, things like running the sweeper, dusting, stripping your beds, and such.”

“You're kidding, right?” Chad said with his mouth full, his dark wavy hair brushing the top of his shoulders.

Ignoring his comment, Darlene said, “And, Chad, you need a haircut.” She picked up her purse and keys from the counter. “Ansley, don't forget to feed your chickens when you get home from school.”

“I hope they lay eggs soon!”

Darlene smiled, knowing how happy Ansley was that her father stayed true to his promise and bought her four laying hens over the weekend. And one rooster. “I'm sure they will.”

“Good luck today, Mom.” Ansley stood up and hugged her. Chad ate another muffin.

“Grace, you need anything?”

“No, Mom. I'm fine.” Grace tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear. Unlike Ansley, who liked her hair cropped at the shoulders, Grace's hair was almost to her waist.

Darlene let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, then, I'm off. See you all after work.” It sounded nice—
off to work
, but she wished the butterflies in her stomach would take a rest.

Grace carried her lunch to the same table she did every day, the one closest to the band hall, the table designated for popular girls, seating for eight. She'd sat with a similar group when she lived in Houston, although their spot at her old school consisted of two tables pushed together for a group of twenty of her friends, guys and girls. Grace had always sat next to Tristan.

She pushed her tater tots around on her plate as the other girls settled into conversation. Nikki talked about going to the senior prom with Dwayne, Glenda asked to borrow Missy's homework, and Jill talked about her prizewinning pig. Although there were many similarities between these girls and Grace's friends in Houston, there were also some distinct differences. Even though Round Top girls got pedicures and enjoyed a trip to the mall, they were also capable of riding horses and raising pigs. Most of them had been on a coyote hunt at some point in their lives and were familiar with the term
cow tipping
. Grace still didn't know what that was.

These girls were all pretty, sought after by the jocks, and in some cases, above doing their own homework. Grace didn't feel like she belonged in the group, but she'd been recruited. Why argue?

Glenda finished copying Missy's math assignment, then leaned across the table, motioning with her finger for Grace to come closer. Grace leaned over her lunch plate as she strained to hear.

“Carter Fritsch is planning to ask you to prom.” Glenda's brown eyes bored into Grace's, conviction in her tone, as if this news might cure world hunger or at least save Grace from the dreaded fate of not being invited to the senior prom this year. Grace was only a sophomore, but everyone in the school was vying for a spot. And with only twenty-six boys graduating, only twenty-six lucky girls from all four grades would be chosen.

She thought about Tristan and wondered who he was taking to the prom. In Houston, more than one thousand students would be graduating from her old school, Tristan included. She'd had several of her old friends ask her to attend the ceremony, but she wasn't planning to go. That life was behind her, and visiting would only stir up painful reminders. The day Tristan broke up with her, he'd said, “It's just not working out, Grace. I think we should see other people.” She'd tried to reassure him that they would still see and talk to each other after she moved to Round Top, but Tristan had responded, “It's not just that, Grace. I think you have some problems too. You know, like . . . maybe you need to get some help or something.”