Halfway to Forever by Karen Kingsbury Page A

them better and—” she was treading on slippery ground, but she forged ahead—“And sometimes love them better.”
    This time Grace bobbed her head up and down, and throughout breakfast she chattered away about the beach and her toys and Hannah and Matt and Jenny.
    “You and Matt are Jenny’s mommy and daddy, right?” Grace had long since finished eating her cereal and now sat opposite Hannah, her hands folded on the table.
    “Right.” Hannah wanted to say more.
We’re
your
mommy and daddy, too, Grace
. But she held her tongue.
    “Hannah?” Grace cocked her head.
    “Yes?”
    “You have only one girl, just like my mommy, right?”
    Hannah wondered whether the sting of that question would ever go away. “Actually …” She allowed herself to pause. “I had two girls. Jenny and Alicia. But Alicia died a few years ago.”
    “Oh.” Grace’s nod was matter-of-fact. “She’s in heaven with Jesus.”
    The breath caught in Hannah’s throat. Mrs. Parsons hadn’t gone into detail about Grace’s background, except to say it had been challenging. All they’d been told so far was that Grace was a child with no physical, mental, or emotional disabilities. Whatever that meant.
    Still, there’d been no reason to think she adhered to any faith.
    “How do you know about Jesus, sweetheart?”
    Grace shrugged. “My grandma told me.”
    Grandma?
An alarm sounded in the control center of Hannah’s soul. Mrs. Parsons had said there was no extended family, no one who would fight for Grace once her mother’s rights were severed. “Grandma?” Hannah tried to smile. “I didn’t know you had a grandma.”
    “I don’t anymore. She died at Christmastime.” Grace folded her arms and swung her feet. “Grandma loved Jesus very much. She told me Jesus was like an invisible Daddy, and sometimes, when Mommy had a bad night, I knew Grandma was right. I could feel my invisible Daddy hold me and keep me safe.”
    Hannah fought the urge to let her mouth drop open. The child seated before her—who for more than a week hadn’t spoken to them or shown any sign that she was capable of loving or being loved—not only knew about Christ, but had felt his love in her life.
    Before Grace went to sleep that night, she smiled at Hannah. “Know what, Hannah?”
    Hannah leaned down and kissed the girl on the forehead. The burden of frustration from the past week lifted like fog. She could hardly wait to tell Jenny about the change in the child. Hannah’s fingers soothed Grace’s brow. “What?”
    Grace batted her silky eyelashes. “I like you, too.”
    Over the next two weeks there were more moments like that.
    One afternoon she and Grace took a walk on the beach and found a sandy knoll where they watched seagulls swooping low over the water. “Know what, Mommy?” Grace looked at her, squinting in the sunlight.
    “What, honey?”
    “We should sing a song.”
    “We should?” Hannah grinned at Grace and reached for her hand.
    “Yes. A happy day needs a happy song.”
    “Okay.” Hannah nodded, biting her lip to keep from giggling. “What should we sing?”
    “You teach me a song.” Grace shaded her eyes with her hand. “Please, Mommy.”
    Hannah thought a minute. “Do you know ‘Jesus Loves Me’?”
    Grace’s fair eyebrows came together in deep concentration. “I don’t think so.”
    “Oh, Grace!” Hannah brought her hands together in a series of light claps. “It’s the happiest song of all.”
    There and then, with the seagulls providing backup, Hannah taught Grace the familiar tune. Immediately it became Grace’s favorite, and after that they sang it at dinner and every time they walked on the beach.
    As Grace opened her heart, every day was more of a blessingthan the day before. Not just to Hannah, but to each of them in different ways.
    Two weeks ago Sunday, they’d been coming home from church when Hannah checked the rearview mirror and saw Grace and Jenny holding hands. Three days later she came home