Lois Richer

A Baby by Easter


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is Wade’s daughter. Wade had to leave her here while he worked in South America. David was her guardian. He hired me to be Silver’s nanny.”

      “How romantic. Like Cinderella.” Susannah thought Darla would have loved that.

      “Not at first. When Wade came home he was nothing like I expected. But God knew what he was doing when he put us together. We were married a year ago.” Connie held out her hand. “My engagement ring was Wade’s mother’s.”

      “It’s beautiful.” Susannah thought of the cheap gold circlet she’d tucked into her bag. Nick had promised he’d get something nicer later on. Another lie. “Nick died and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

      “Oh, Suze, I’m so glad you came here. You were only seventeen when you ran away from our foster home. What have you been doing?” Connie asked, her voice grave. “I called home several times, but Mom said she didn’t know where you’d gone.”

      “I got in with the wrong group and went to Los Angeles. It took me a while to get my head on straight, but eventually I got a job in a nursing home. That’s where I met Nick.” She inhaled to ease the constriction in her throat. No more tears.

      Connie squeezed her fingers. “How did you find me?”

      “I finally phoned Mom day before yesterday.”

      “She misses you.” Connie’s eyes blazed with sympathy.

      “I miss her, too.” Susannah sniffed. “I was stupid to run away. So stupid.”

      “Everybody makes mistakes.”

      “Even you?” Susannah asked, glancing around.

      “Especially me.” Connie laughed. “I’ll tell you later about my mistakes.” Her voice grew serious. “But what about the baby, Suze? When are you due?”

      “April. Around Easter.”

      “An Easter baby.”

      Susannah gulped. “I’m on my own and I have about two nickels to rub together. I guess, first of all, I need to find a job. Do you know of any?”

      “First of all you need to get better,” Connie said in her familiar “mother” tone. “Do you want to keep your baby?”

      “I don’t think any child would want a mother like me.” She deliberately didn’t look at Connie.

      “But you’d make a wonderful mother!” her friend protested.

      “Hardly,” Susannah scoffed. “Look how I messed up my own family. I’m so not the poster woman for motherhood.”

      “You were nine the day they brought you to our foster home. I told you then and I’ll tell you again, you did not break up your family, Suze. Nothing you did caused your father to leave you, or your mother to start drinking. And you did not start that fire.” Connie tucked a finger under her chin and forced her to look up.

      Susannah couldn’t stop the tears. “Why did God let this happen to me, Connie?”

      “Oh, sweetheart.” Connie wrapped comforting arms around her shoulders and hugged her close, rocking back and forth as she had when Susannah was younger.

      “I feel like He hates me,” Susannah sobbed.

      “God? No way.” Connie let go and leaned back. “Listen to me, kiddo, and hear me well. God does not hate you. He loves you more than you could ever imagine.”

      “But I’ve messed up—”

      “There are no ‘buts’ where God is concerned. He loves you. Period.” Connie pressed the tendrils away from Susannah’s face, then cupped her cheeks and peered straight into her eyes. “God has a plan. He’s going to work all of this out for your benefit.”

      “You sound so sure.”

      “I am sure. Positive.” Connie smiled. “But until He shows us the next step, I have the perfect guest room upstairs. You’ll stay as long as you need to. Now finish that soup and try to swallow a few of the crackers,” she insisted. “You’re thinner now than you were when you first came to North Dakota, and you were a stick then. Eat.”

      “Still as bossy,” Susannah teased, her heart swelling at the relief of being able to count on a friend.

      “Still needing bossing,” Connie shot back, laughing. “You need taking care of, and I’m just the person to do it.” She watched while Susannah ate. “What was Darla saying about Sleeping Beauty?”

      Susannah shrugged but couldn’t stop her blush. “I passed out on the doorstep. Her brother carried me in here. When I came to, she was demanding he kiss me, like Sleeping Beauty.” Susannah crunched another cracker, enjoying the feeling of having enough to satisfy her hunger. It had been ages since she’d been able to eat her fill.

      “She loves that story.” Connie smiled fondly.

      “Darla is a bit old for fairy tales,” Susannah mused. “Something’s wrong with her, right?”

      “She had a skiing accident.” Connie’s voice filled with sadness. “It happened a few months after her mother died. Their father was already gone so David had to handle everything. He’s been looking after her the best he can, but it’s been a challenge for him.”

      “What do you mean?” Susannah struggled to decipher the cautious tone in Connie’s voice.

      “Well, David was engaged. Twice.”

      “Oh.” Not much wonder, Susannah thought. He was very good-looking.

      “Each time his fiancées backed out because of Darla.”

      “They wanted him to dump her into some home?” Indignation filled Susannah. “Typical.”

      “Why do you say that, Suze?”

      “It was like that where I worked,” Susannah fumed. “So often the seniors were seen as burdens because they took a little extra time and attention, or couldn’t remember as well.”

      “Well, in Darla’s case, David’s fiancées might have had a point,” Connie said, her voice quiet.

      “Oh?” Susannah frowned. “Why?”

      “Darla has had—” Connie paused “—difficulty adjusting to her world since the accident.”

      “But surely she goes to a program of some sort?” Susannah asked.

      “She does. The problem is Darla. She has trouble working with anyone. Her temper gets very bad. I’m sure that’s what happened with my lamp.” Connie inclined her head toward the shattered glass.

      “When I came to, she was yelling.” Susannah frowned. “But she didn’t act up when I was speaking with her. She was sweet and quite charming.”

      “That’s the way she is, until someone doesn’t do as she wants. Then she balks and makes a scene. It’s part of her brain injury. She’s had a number of workers try to teach her stronger self-control.” Connie made a face. “With little success, so far. They keep quitting.”

      “Well, maybe David hasn’t found the right people to work with her,” Susannah said. “He seemed kind of frustrated by her.”

      “Maybe he is,” Connie agreed, “but he devotes himself to his sister.”

      “To the exclusion of everything else?” Was that why he looked so tired?

      “Yes, sometimes. David is convinced it’s his duty to his parents to ensure Darla’s happiness, even if he has to sacrifice his own.” Connie pulled a vacuum hose from a cupboard and cleaned up the shards of glass before tucking the lampshade into a closet.

      “Aren’t you mad about the lamp?” Susannah asked curiously.

      “It was just