I take care of the outside. I enjoy getting out and puttering around in the yard. Makes me forget about my worries for a short period of time.”
“You see, that’s how I feel about the kitchen.”
“How does Mark feel about yard work?”
“He used to love it. He and John would spend hours working outside. Now he doesn’t want to do anything. I feel like a nag just getting him to mow our lawn.”
She followed Jared up the steps to a huge porch that ran the length of his house. A profusion of potted plants adorned it as well as a swing and natural wicker furniture with bright yellow cushions. “Do you spend a lot of time out here?”
“When I can, especially in the early morning and the evening right before the sun sets.”
“Nice times of the day.”
“It’s my quiet time.” Again his grin appeared, dimpling his cheeks. “At least the morning is my quiet time. The kids aren’t up yet. I can’t really say that about the evening. I’ve helped with many a homework assignments on that swing.”
The front door swung open and Terry hurried outside. “Dad, Hannah won’t let anyone in. Let’s call the fire department. They can rescue her.”
Jared put his hand on his son’s shoulder to stop his forward momentum. “I think they have better things to do with their time than that.”
“Then how are we gonna get her out?”
“She’s not stuck in there. She can come out anytime she wants.”
“Mrs. Davis has tried everything. She yelled at her. She tried to bribe her. Nothing’s worked.”
“Let’s go see what we can do.” Jared hugged his son to his side for a few seconds before entering the house.
Upstairs Mrs. Davis, who had brown hair streaked with gray and pulled back into a severe bun, stood in the middle of the hallway in front of what was obviously the main bathroom, tapping her foot against the brown-carpeted floor. Her irritated expression underscored her exasperated stance.
“I’ll take over, Mrs. Davis. Thanks for letting me know.”
The rotund, large woman huffed and rushed past Jared, Terry and Kathleen, mumbling about being behind in her work.
Jared approached the closed door and leaned against it. “Hannah, come out and let’s talk.”
“No! Go away. I hate being a girl.”
“I can’t do that, Hannah,” Jared said in a gentle voice. “Kathleen has come over to see you.”
Kathleen stepped closer until she, too, was leaning into the door. “I thought maybe you and I could talk woman-to-woman.”
Nothing came from Hannah for almost three minutes, then Kathleen heard the lock click and the door eased open.
“Come in.”
Kathleen went into the bathroom. Terry tried to follow. His sister blocked his way with her hands on her hips. She stuck out her lower lip, her eyes pinpoints, silently daring him to enter her domain.
“Terry, please go help Mrs. Davis now,” Jared said behind the boy.
Terry groaned but headed down the hall. Hannah immediately locked the door again. Kathleen sat on the lip of the bathtub while the twelve-year-old plopped down on the closed lid of the toilet. Her hands folded in front of her, the young girl stared at the cream-colored tile on the floor.
Kathleen waited a few minutes to see if Hannah would say anything. When she didn’t speak, Kathleen said, “I can still remember my first time. I was scared. I didn’t know what to feel. My mother is great, but she was always uncomfortable talking about things like that. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me.”
Hannah looked straight at her. “Dad gave me a book. It explained everything. That’s not the problem.”
When the young girl didn’t elaborate, Kathleen asked, “What is the problem? Maybe I can help.”
Hannah’s bottom lip quivered. “Can you stop it?”
“No, it’s a natural routine in a woman’s life.”
“But I don’t want it. I don’t feel well. I—”
Kathleen squatted in front of Hannah. “Do you have cramps?”
She shook her head. “I’m not myself. I don’t know how to describe it.”
Kathleen placed her hand over the young girl’s. “Out of sorts?”
“Yes.”
“That’s common. Our body’s hormones can affect our moods.”
Her eyes watery with unshed tears, Hannah bit her teeth into her bottom lip. “Why does this have to happen to me?”
Kathleen hid her smile, wondering how many women have thought that very same question. “It’s part of God’s plan. As you know from the book you read, having periods is tied to a woman being able to have children.”
“I don’t wanna change. I like everything the way it is,” Hannah said with a sniff.
“That, too, is part of life. Change will happen. I guarantee it.” Kathleen remembered her earlier comments about her life changing. She hadn’t wished hers to change, either.
“Can I still play sports when I’m—?” Hannah’s question faded into silence, her teeth digging into her lower lip even more.
“Of course. But as you become a young woman, you’ll need to see about getting things like a bra. Do you have one now?”
Hannah’s eyes grew round. “No! I don’t want one.”
“When you play sports, it’s better to wear one. I could go with you to get a sports bra if you want.”
“Sports bra?” Hannah thought that over for a moment. “Okay—I guess so. If I have to.”
“Can I help you with anything else? Do you know how to take care of yourself? Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes. Dad gave me a box of pads when he gave me the book to read.”
“Do you have any other concerns I can help you with?” Kathleen pushed to her feet, suddenly realizing she missed not having a daughter. John and she had wanted more children, but it wasn’t to be.
“When can we go shopping?”
Noticing the puffy redness around Hannah’s eyes, Kathleen took the washcloth from the towel rack and wet it. After handing it to the young girl, she said, “I’ll talk to your father and set a date if that’s okay with you.”
Hannah wiped her face, mumbling into the terry cloth, “You don’t think Dad will get mad if I go with you instead of him?”
Kathleen smiled at the young girl. “I think he’ll be all right with just the two of us going.”
“Thanks, Kathleen,” Hannah said as Kathleen left the bathroom.
Jared leaned against the wall across from her. When he saw her, he shoved away and started toward the bathroom, worry creasing his brow, his eyes dark. “Do I need to talk to Hannah?”
Kathleen stopped him with a hand on his arm. The second her skin touched his she knew her mistake. Her fingertips tingled as though an electrical current had passed between them. She immediately dropped her hand to her side. “She’s fine. Give her a few minutes to wash her face, compose herself.”
He stared at the closed door, the hard line of his jaw attesting to his continued concern. “Are you sure she—”
The door opened and Hannah emerged, her face scrubbed clean, all evidence of her tears gone. “Dad, I’m sorry.” Her gaze remained glued to the floor,