the shortest end. “Odell — six. Purcel — eight. Latrelle — ten.” She slung three small sports bags out of the back and dropped them on the cracked concrete patio outside the kitchen door. “I emailed the paperwork to Walt. All set?”
The boys and I sized each other up. And then I realized Jillian expected a response. “Yes. Right-o,” I said, trying to sound like a competent adult. I’d done this before. I could do it again. I held out my hands to the boys. “Do you want to know where the secret Oreo stash is?” See, I totally had it figured out.
In my work managing Skip’s charitable foundation, I’d evaluated orphanages the world over and designated grant money to them. Which meant I’d traveled extensively and seen all kinds of living conditions, many of which turned my stomach inside out. No matter what circumstances the children were in, I’d loved hanging out with them and showering them with attention and affection. But I’d always left them behind when I’d boarded my plane. Bringing needy children home to actually live with me was something new, and somewhat disconcerting.
Emmie had been easy to assimilate into our daily lives. Walt managed the boys so well I hadn’t really considered how taxing it must be for him. And his brood had just grown from nineteen to twenty-two.
And three more small boys needed winter coats and sturdy boots and new jeans.
Oreos are short-term balm for all sorts of wounds. I installed the boys at the kitchen table, and Emmie and I consumed our fair share of the cookies while keeping them company.
For all they’d been through, the boys still had a resilient silly streak a mile wide, and it was a delight to watch them wriggle in their seats and try to top each other’s stories. It was all I could do not to tell them to close their mouths when they chewed. Sugar is as effective a social lubricant as alcohol is, at least for the younger set.
An hour later, Walt stuck his head through the doorway. “Thought I saw Jilly’s van. Hey there, fellas.” His gaze took in the crumb-covered tabletop and sticky smiles all around. He narrowed his intense blue eyes at me, an infectious grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess they won’t be needing dinner.”
“What?” Purcel shouted. “No way. I eat gobs and gobs. You’ll be amazed.” He arched his back and made a show of protruding his stomach under the baggy shirt, although, frankly, he didn’t have a lot to work with.
“Hollow, are you?” Walt asked.
“Yup.”
Walt chuckled. “Come on, then. Eli and Mason have been getting their room ready. You’re going to bunk with them.”
“Like real bunk beds?” Latrelle’s eyes about popped out of his little round head.
“Submarine style,” Walt replied. “Eighteen inches clearance. You’ll have to put off growing until we get the garage converted. Think you can do that?”
A faint worry cloud crossed over the boys’ faces, and I jumped in. “He is absolutely joking — not about the beds, but about the growing. You can grow as much as you want.” I stuck my tongue out at Walt, and the boys snickered.
They trooped outside, Odell making a brief detour to hug me around the knees. Aww. That boy already knew the way to my heart.
Walt hung back a moment. “Your friends cleared out pretty fast. They have short attention spans when nothing nefarious is brewing.”
I squeezed his arm in acknowledgment. “Where’s Dwayne? I didn’t see him this morning. It’s not natural for a man to avoid anything pyrotechnic.”
Walt was just full of smiles today. He had to be exhausted from the middle-of-the-night emergency, but it was so encouraging to see this happier, playful side shine through. Maybe it had something to do with our being able to take in more boys.
“I installed him as the de facto foreman at the garage. He’s checking in the contractors and monitoring their progress.” Was that a tick, or was Walt actually winking at me? “He’s
The boys and I sized each other up. And then I realized Jillian expected a response. “Yes. Right-o,” I said, trying to sound like a competent adult. I’d done this before. I could do it again. I held out my hands to the boys. “Do you want to know where the secret Oreo stash is?” See, I totally had it figured out.
In my work managing Skip’s charitable foundation, I’d evaluated orphanages the world over and designated grant money to them. Which meant I’d traveled extensively and seen all kinds of living conditions, many of which turned my stomach inside out. No matter what circumstances the children were in, I’d loved hanging out with them and showering them with attention and affection. But I’d always left them behind when I’d boarded my plane. Bringing needy children home to actually live with me was something new, and somewhat disconcerting.
Emmie had been easy to assimilate into our daily lives. Walt managed the boys so well I hadn’t really considered how taxing it must be for him. And his brood had just grown from nineteen to twenty-two.
And three more small boys needed winter coats and sturdy boots and new jeans.
Oreos are short-term balm for all sorts of wounds. I installed the boys at the kitchen table, and Emmie and I consumed our fair share of the cookies while keeping them company.
For all they’d been through, the boys still had a resilient silly streak a mile wide, and it was a delight to watch them wriggle in their seats and try to top each other’s stories. It was all I could do not to tell them to close their mouths when they chewed. Sugar is as effective a social lubricant as alcohol is, at least for the younger set.
An hour later, Walt stuck his head through the doorway. “Thought I saw Jilly’s van. Hey there, fellas.” His gaze took in the crumb-covered tabletop and sticky smiles all around. He narrowed his intense blue eyes at me, an infectious grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess they won’t be needing dinner.”
“What?” Purcel shouted. “No way. I eat gobs and gobs. You’ll be amazed.” He arched his back and made a show of protruding his stomach under the baggy shirt, although, frankly, he didn’t have a lot to work with.
“Hollow, are you?” Walt asked.
“Yup.”
Walt chuckled. “Come on, then. Eli and Mason have been getting their room ready. You’re going to bunk with them.”
“Like real bunk beds?” Latrelle’s eyes about popped out of his little round head.
“Submarine style,” Walt replied. “Eighteen inches clearance. You’ll have to put off growing until we get the garage converted. Think you can do that?”
A faint worry cloud crossed over the boys’ faces, and I jumped in. “He is absolutely joking — not about the beds, but about the growing. You can grow as much as you want.” I stuck my tongue out at Walt, and the boys snickered.
They trooped outside, Odell making a brief detour to hug me around the knees. Aww. That boy already knew the way to my heart.
Walt hung back a moment. “Your friends cleared out pretty fast. They have short attention spans when nothing nefarious is brewing.”
I squeezed his arm in acknowledgment. “Where’s Dwayne? I didn’t see him this morning. It’s not natural for a man to avoid anything pyrotechnic.”
Walt was just full of smiles today. He had to be exhausted from the middle-of-the-night emergency, but it was so encouraging to see this happier, playful side shine through. Maybe it had something to do with our being able to take in more boys.
“I installed him as the de facto foreman at the garage. He’s checking in the contractors and monitoring their progress.” Was that a tick, or was Walt actually winking at me? “He’s
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