Whispered Prayers of a Girl

I smile in return. “He is.” I look over at Kelsey. “They both are.”

I grab the cups the kids were using and take them to the sink to rinse.

“School’s out for the next few weeks. Any plans for the holidays yet?” Mrs. Tanner asks.

I put the cups in the dishwasher, then walk over to gather Daniel’s crayons.

“Nope. I think we’re going to just stay here. Will’s parents are in California with their daughter, Sophia, for Christmas, and, well… both my parents are gone.”

Her smile turns sad as she walks over to me and lays a hand on my arm. “Why don’t you three come here for Christmas dinner? My two kids, Kenneth and Bethany, will be here with both their families for a few days. Sara is Kelsey’s age and Cody is Daniel’s. Might be nice for them to have kids their age to hang out with.”

I look down and flip the lid closed on the crayon box. It’s the holidays that are always the hardest. This will be the third Christmas we’ll have without Will. It was always his favorite holiday, so it was a big deal for our family. The house, inside and out, was always decorated to the max. All the shelves were filled with nativity scenes, all the doorways had lights and garland, the tree was loaded with ornaments. Per Will’s request, and much to the kids’ delight, we always had some type of Christmas snack the whole month of December. Christmas Eve everyone got a pajama set and got to open one Christmas present to tide us over until the next morning. It was our tradition. I’ve tried to stick with that tradition, to bring the holiday to life for the kids, but it’s just not the same without him.

I look back up at Mrs. Tanner and offer a smile. Maybe being with more people will help distract the kids, and they’ll be able to enjoy the holiday like they are meant to.

“Can we do it the day before Christmas Eve? Emma, my best friend, will be in town and we’re supposed to have Christmas with her grandmother.”

“Absolutely. The kids will be here all of Christmas week.”

“Then we’d love to. But I insist on bringing something.”

Her answering smile makes her seem ten years younger. “You bring whatever you want. As long as you and those two precious kids are here, I’ll be happy.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tanner. We’d be honored to spend Christmas with you and your family.”

She reaches up and pats my cheek. “Gwen, dear, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Ruth before you actually start calling me that?”

I laugh. “I don’t know. Probably many more times.”

“Well, since you’ll be spending the holiday with me, I insist that you start.”

I smile and scoop up the coloring book and crayons. “I promise I’ll try to remember.”

I walk around the table to Kelsey, just as Daniel comes back in the room with his book bag slung over his small shoulder.

I squat down beside Kelsey. “Hey, honey. You ready to go? You can help me make Mrs. Myers’ pie if you want when we get home.”

She looks at me, and I want to cry when her lips stay closed. She gives me a small nod, but that’s all. I know she’ll help with the pie. She’s a very good child, always doing what I ask without complaint. Sometimes I wish she would throw a tantrum. At least she would be showing some form of emotion. But then I feel terrible for thinking that way, because no matter how Kelsey acts, she’ll always be perfect in my eyes.

I lean over and kiss her cheek before standing. She immediately gets up, her crossword book in hand, and stands beside me. I reach out and grab her hand. It may be odd for a mother to want to hold their eight-year-old daughter’s hand when they are simply walking to the truck, but I steal as much attention as I can from Kelsey, and that includes holding her hand, kissing her head or cheek, hugging her as often as I can—anything I can get. I’m deprived of her voice, if I can help it, I won’t be deprived of anything else.

I thank Ruth once more as she holds the door open for us, promising to stop by in the next few days to have dinner.

Chapter 2

Alexander

I pull my old Ford truck up to the cabin and cut the engine. Grabbing an armload of groceries, I carry them up the steps, then wrestle the key into the lock and kick the door open with my boot once I managed to unlock it. I set the bags down and go out for the rest. I’ll get the horse feed and few other items that go in the barn later.

Gigi, my black lab mix, trots behind me to the kitchen. Once I set the bags down, I pat the top of her jet-black head.

“Hey, girl. How’re the pups?” I ask.

Knowing what she’s looking for, I grab a can of dog food from the pantry, pull the tab, and pour the chunky meat into her bowl.

She runs ahead of me as I carry the bowl to the door leading to the huge utility room where her pups are. She slips through the doggy door right before I pull the door open. She immediately goes to check on her sleeping pups in the big dog bed across the room, sniffing them and nudging them with her nose, then comes back as I’m setting the bowl down. She gives it a quick sniff, checking the smell of dinner, before diving in.

“Let me know when you’re ready to go out, girl,” I tell her. She doesn’t acknowledge me, just continues to devour her food like she’s starving, when she just ate a few hours ago. Her pups are taking all her nutrients and leaving her with hardly any.