Home to Hart's Crossing (31 page)

With a sigh, Patti returned the handset to the charger, her thoughts racing ahead to that evening and the promised conversation with her husband.

* * *

Al stood on the spot where blacktop met schoolyard and watched the kids at play during their lunch break. Laughter and shouts abounded. There was a group climbing on the playground equipment, others kicking around a soccer ball, a few taking swings at a baseball with a bat, some sitting in bunches on the grass. No injuries. No fighting. That was just the way he wanted it when he was assigned playground duty.

“Look out!”

He turned at the same moment the baseball went zipping past his head. He took a quick step backward. Not that it mattered. By that time, the ball was past him and bouncing across the blacktop.

Lyssa Sampson jogged toward him. “Sorry, Mr. Bedford. You okay?”

“Yeah.” He touched his temple, as if checking to see if he’d been hit. “Better watch those wild pitches.”

“I didn’t throw it.” She jerked a thumb behind her. “It was a foul ball. Blame Vince. He hit it.”

As if he’d heard what Lyssa said, Vince Johnson shouted, “Sorry, Mr. Bedford.”

Al waved at the boy to let him know all was well.

Lyssa hurried after the baseball, obviously eager to return to the game.

Al chuckled. Moments like this, there was no doubt in his heart that he was born to be a teacher. He loved working with kids, shaping young minds, challenging them to achieve great things. He had to love it. Nobody entered public education
especially in a small town school district
because they want to get rich.

Rich isn’t necessary, but more would be nice.

The thought brought a frown to his brow. He hated that money
or the lack thereof
was constantly on his mind. It made him feel petty and complaining. Shouldn’t he have an attitude of gratitude instead? Shouldn’t his first thoughts be about how much God had blessed him?

He turned, preparing to walk to the opposite end of the schoolyard. That’s when he saw Cassandra heading toward him. She was smiling, and there was a jaunty spring in her step that made her seem not a whole lot older than some of the kids on the playground.

“Did you hear?” she asked as she drew near.

“Hear what?”

“Our field trip to the Craters of the Moon is a definite go.”

“That’s great.”

“I know. I can think of at least a dozen related projects my class can work on in relation to it.”

Cassandra’s excitement was palpable. Would she one day find herself worried about paying the mortgage and car payment and grocery bill from her teacher’s salary?

“Al… What’s troubling you?”

It bothered him that she could read him so well. It felt… wrong. Why was that?

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“If you ever need to talk, you know I’m only a classroom away.”

“Sure. Thanks.” He was saved from saying more by the ringing of the school bell, calling kids back to class.

* * *

Gretchen Livingston, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, took a sip of vanilla chai tea and smiled. “Patti, this is so good. Thanks for making me a cup.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Patti’s neighbor ran her fingers through her short blond hair. “Oh, my. It’s good to have a weekday off. It’s so much easier to accomplish things around the house when I’m the only one at home.”

“Sometimes I don’t think I’ll catch up until the twins are in high school.”

Gretchen laughed. “I remember feeling that way when Amy was a baby. I can only imagine what it’s like for you.”

“Speaking of Amy
” Patti sat down opposite Gretchen and motioned with her head toward the family room where Amy sat with the twins
“she’s been such a help to me.”

“Well, don’t let her become a pest. You send her home anytime you don’t want her here.”

“She’s never a pest, believe me. I hope my two will be as well-mannered when they’re thirteen.”

Gretchen smiled again. “That’s a great compliment. Thanks.”

“It’s just the truth.” Patti lowered her gaze to the cup on the table. “Gretchen, when Amy was a newborn, were you ever… did you ever
” She stopped and drew in a deep breath. “I’m so moody lately. Mom thinks maybe I should see a counselor. She wonders if I might have postpartum depression or something.” As soon as she said it, she was sorry. She liked Gretchen and all, but they weren’t close friends. Did she want her neighbors knowing her deep dark secrets? No!

Gretchen gave her shoulders a slight shrug as she shook her head. “I didn’t get depressed after Amy was born, but I was really tired, so everything seemed twice as hard as it really was.” She took another sip of tea. “But if you decide you need a counselor, I can recommend someone to you. Hayley Young. Do you know her?”

Patti shook her head.

“She has an office on Idaho south of Main Street. Very soft spoken and gentle. I went to see her a couple of years ago for a few months when I was struggling with something. She was a great help to me.”

Gretchen couldn’t know it, but just hearing she’d sought the help of a counselor herself made Patti feel less of a failure as a wife and mom. And as a woman.

“Now, I’d better get home so I can accomplish a few more of those nagging to-do items.” Gretchen finished the last of her tea, then rose and carried her cup to the kitchen sink. As she headed for the back door, she called, “Amy, don’t forget Mrs. Hargrove is picking you up at five o’clock.”

“I won’t, Mom. See you in a while.”

Patti followed Gretchen to the door. “Thanks for coming over. And for telling me about Hayley Young.”

“Glad to help, Patti. Have a nice evening.”

“We will.”

As she closed the back door, she breathed a silent prayer.
Please, let it be a nice evening.

Chapter 8

DELICIOUS ODORS GREETED AL as he entered the kitchen. Patti stood at the counter, holding the lid of the electric frying pan in one hand and a large pronged fork in the other.

“Smells good.” It was one of his favorite meals, a juicy roast cooked with onions, carrots, and potatoes. When they were first married, Patti had asked his mother to show her how to prepare the dinner the way he liked it.

She turned her head and smiled. “Hi, honey. You’re home just in time.” She set the lid on the pan. “Dinner should be ready soon.”

“The twins asleep?” He stepped forward and kissed her on the lips.

“Mmm.”

He drew back. “Does that mean yes or no?”

She cocked her head toward the family room. “Have a look.”

Lately, he and Patti had been so careful what they said and how they said it. It was exhausting. A little like the proverbial walking on eggshells. But their methods seemed to be working.

He moved toward the family room. There, seated in the rocking chair, was Amy Livingston, Sunni in the crook of one arm, a bottle of milk in her opposite hand. Weston lay on a blanket on the floor, staring at a portable mobile.

“Amy came over after school again.” Patti stepped to his side. “She already fed Wes, and now she’s taking care of Sunni. I never would have gotten dinner ready on time without her help.”

The girl glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Mr. Bedford.”

“Hey, Amy.”

Patti touched his arm. “They’ve taken to the bottles of breast milk without complaint.” Her voice lowered. “I thought maybe we could ask Amy and Miss Hart to watch the babies for a few hours next weekend or the one after so you and I could go out to eat and maybe see a movie.”