A Child's Wish

“Yeah. I just heard someone talking about judging people and it didn’t really make sense to me, is all.”

Thank God for that. Kelsey Shepherd had already been through enough in her young life. And so had her dad.

AT TEN AFTER TWELVE Meredith heard Mark’s automatic garage door start to open. She yanked on her ankle-length hikers, tied the laces and grabbed her bag, which was packed and waiting. And then she reached for the remote control and turned off the TV.

“Hi,” Mark said, coming in and dropping his keys on the brass plate on the counter.

“Hi.” Meredith looked at the keys rather than at Mark. If his hair was mussed or he had that satisfied look in his eyes, she’d die of embarrassment.

“I know it’s late, but you got a minute?”

Her gaze darted to his. “Sure.” Her stomach was still uncomfortable, but she’d lain down after Kelsey went to bed and it was better than it had been before.

“In the living room?”

Odd, but…okay.

The first time she’d ever been in Mark’s living room, three years ago for a retirement party for one of the teachers, she’d been impressed with the simple, elegant gold, brown, maroon and green decor. The room had the feeling of a cozy fall day, right down to the coasters on the plain oak coffee table. Rather than choosing the love seat or the sofa, Meredith chose the autumn-colored wing-back armchair. It only sat one. No awkwardness there.

“What’s up?”

“I need your help with Kelsey.”

Meredith’s stomach tensed again. “What’s wrong?” The little girl had been happy enough that night.

“Nothing, when she’s with you.” Mark’s words weren’t quite resentful, but his frustration was evident.

“She’s not okay with you?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t seem to like Susan and I don’t get it. Susan’s kind and gentle and she wants so badly to be Kelsey’s friend.”

Settling back into the chair, allowing her bag to slide down her arm and onto the floor, Meredith nodded. “I know she does.”

“I’m sure it’s just because Kelsey resents having to share me, but I have no idea what to do about it. I make certain that she and I still have at least three nights a week alone and on at least another two, she’s included in whatever plans Susan and I make.”

If only more parents tried that hard. “So what do you want from me?”

She could take Kelsey to her house to spend the night, or even a weekend now and then, but that wasn’t going to solve the problem.

“To see what you think. I couldn’t talk to you about this at school, of course, and most of the time you’re around, it’s with either Susan or Kelsey there.”

Thank goodness for that. She wasn’t sure how long she and Mark could last without fighting, if they spent much time together by themselves. She had a tendency to piss him off.

“I guess I was hoping, since Kelsey seems to adore you, that you’d be able to talk to her or something. Or maybe have some insights as to what I might do.”

Meredith wasn’t sure what to say. Susan was her closest friend—a lot of times in her life she’d been Meredith’s only friend. She would be loyal to Susan until death. So would it be disloyal to talk about her behind her back if she was attempting to help Susan get what she’d said she wanted?

Waiting until she felt calm inside, until she felt the doubts fall away, to be replaced by the certainty that she’d learned long ago to trust, Meredith let the quiet of the room settle around her.

And then with more confidence, she said, “Susan never learned how to interact with kids.”

Yes, it was okay to say that. “She wants to be Kelsey’s friend but she has no inner direction, nothing instinctual, not even a memory to draw on to tell her how to be a friend to someone that age. Which makes her feel awkward and insecure, and so she forces things. Kids can tell when people aren’t being natural with them and they respond with a defensiveness that’s mostly unconscious.”

That was how it felt. Pretty much.

Mark thought for a minute, hands rubbing slowly against each other. They were nice hands. Big. Dependable-looking. Meredith had seen them gently wipe away tears, tenderly hold shoulders, sign papers and applaud success.

“I understand,” he said at last. “But I still have no idea what to do about it.”