“Yup. Look, Sara, I know we don’t know each other very well, but your mom asked me to come take care of you while she’s in the hospital. And then we can get to know each other a lot better, okay? We’ll have lots of fun, you’ll see.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more—Sara or herself.
“Will you take me to see Mommy?”
Jason came back in carrying a pink backpack and Molly blushed, looking to him for help.
“Listen, sweet thing,” he said gently, coming over to the table and kneeling beside her. “You know your mom’s in the hospital, and she had an operation. She’s still pretty sick.”
At the girl’s crestfallen face, he sighed. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll talk to Molly and your mom tomorrow, and, if it’s okay, I’ll take you both to the hospital after work. How’s that sound?”
Sara’s eyes glistened and Molly’s heart broke. Whatever the inconvenience to her schedule, whatever issues she had with Jason, they simply weren’t as important as what this little girl was going through. Sara’s whole world revolved around her mother. Now she hadn’t seen her mother in nearly a week, and she had to be afraid, insecure. How much did she actually understand? Something told Molly that Jason had turned his life upside down during that time to make things okay for Sara. The least she could do was help him out.
“Hey, Sara?” Molly ran a finger under Sara’s eye, gently wiping away a tear. “I’ll make you a deal. You and I go home and have a rest. It’s been a busy day!” She smiled brightly. “And then, after we eat dinner, maybe we can call your mom on the phone and you can talk to her. Does that sound like a plan?”
Sara nodded, and Molly’s answering grin was triumphant. At least she’d done something right.
They bundled Sara in her heavy jacket and mittens, and Molly took the backpack. “Okay, we’re off!”
“Um, Molly, hang on a sec. You need the car seat out of my truck. I’ll put it in for you.”
Jason slipped on a pair of utterly practical winter boots and a jacket, and to Molly’s dismay, it made him appear even more rugged and manly.
“I can do it myself.” Her voice came out more churlish than she intended.
He aimed a mocking glance at her footwear. “Whatever.”
He slid past her and jogged to his sport utility while she fumed in the background, shoving on her gloves and fishing for her keys.
It was her job to look after Sara, and she’d do it well. She didn’t need any help from Jason Elliot. Nope, she didn’t need him at all. She’d done just fine without him, and she’d continue to do so.
Two hours later she was recanting that thought.
Sara had slept for precisely half an hour. Just long enough for Molly to have half a bath. Hearing the little girl up and about, Molly groggily drained the water and pulled on Kim’s bathrobe.
“That’s Mommy’s!” Sara accused belligerently, her cheeks hot.
Then Molly spent the next twenty minutes reassuring Sara that she had only borrowed the robe for a few moments.
After changing into jeans and a sweater, she turned on the television and let Sara watch cartoons while she searched for food. Kim’s house was drastically different from Molly’s. Molly had a one-bedroom condo downtown. It was carefully and expensively decorated, completely appropriate for a single working woman. The fridge was only ever half full, and she ate a lot of frozen foods with the word “gourmet” on the label. Kim’s house, on the other hand, was littered with toys, the furniture comfortable and well broken in, the table and chairs slightly scarred. One thing Kim did have, however, was a deep freeze and a pantry. Unfortunately, not much was in them beyond baking goods. Did the woman make everything from scratch? Molly’s idea of baked goods were what she bought at the corner bakery on the way home from work.
The perishables in the fridge were past the point of no return, and Molly dumped most of them in the garbage. Searching the freezer, she found a small box of chicken nuggets and a bag of French fries. Ah, finally. Convenience food.
“Hey, Sara, how’s chicken nuggets sound for supper?”
No answer.
“Sara?”
Still no answer.
Molly dropped the frozen food in the sink and ran to the living room. The television was on, but Sara wasn’t there.
She took the stairs two at a time and slid to a halt before the bathroom.
There, on a stepstool, was Sara, happily smearing red lipstick on her face.
Molly took a deep breath. “Sara? What are you doing?”
“Looking pretty!” She aimed a happy smile at her aunt.