A House Full of Hope. Missy Tippens

wasn’t even lost. He was here to see Mr. Redd.” She pointed both children toward their new bedrooms. “Now, no more arguing. I switched the schedule to have this Saturday off work so we could do some more unpacking.”

       Becca whooped from her room across the upstairs hallway, the sound bouncing off the hardwood floors and high ceilings. The only drawback to a larger, older house was how noise carried. And boy, did her family produce noise.

       “I’ll help each of you arrange your room the way you want it,” Hannah said. “Eric, you first.”

       Eric huffed and pointed at Emily. “No fair. She’ll get to play longer while I have to do chores.”

       “No more arguing. Get to work.”

       Tony stuck his head out his door. “When’s Nana going to come see my new room?”

       The child loved his grandmother, even with her faults—one of which was holding grudges. She was furious Hannah had moved into a house owned by those Rykers. All these years later, Donna refused to associate with Redd, even though he’d had nothing to do with his son’s behavior.

       “I don’t know, sweetie. I’ll be sure to invite her again, though.”

       Tony, named for his father, was the only one of the four with Hannah’s green eyes. He was also the most sensitive. Hannah worried that her mom’s refusal to come around would end up hurting him.

       Of course, Mark showing up would not help one bit. Maybe Hannah could invite Nana out for the following week—well after Mark headed back to whatever rock he’d climbed out from under.

       Those green eyes peeked around the door again. “Will you call her now?”

       She knelt down in front of him and gently caressed his face. “Of course. Now, go figure out where you want to store your rock collection.”

       As he hurried to obey, she went downstairs to call her mother from the phone in the kitchen, in case they ended up arguing.

       Donna Williams picked up on the fourth ring. “Terrible timing, Hannah. I’m trying to get—” she grunted “—a pound cake into the oven.” A thump like an oven door closing rattled over the phone. “Of course, if I wasn’t on the bereavement committee at church, I wouldn’t be doing this. But how could I say no when Ann called me directly with a request for one of my pound cakes?”

       If Hannah just sat quietly, she suspected her mother could carry on a whole conversation by herself. Someday, she might test the theory. “So who’s the cake for?”

       “The Smith family. Maude died.” The sound of water running blasted in the background. “And you can imagine how it burns me up to have to do something nice for that no-good daughter of hers. Frederica tormented you in second grade. You almost had to change schools. But, well, your daddy refused to move and instead taught you how to fight.”

       Yes, her mother still held a grudge against a second-grader who was now thirty years old. Hannah nearly laughed at the memory and made a mental note to give her dad, now remarried and living in Colorado, a call. She and her dad had often made her mother furious.

       “Well, I survived. And speaking of moving…”

       Banging of dishes continued. “No. I will not babysit out there.”

       “Come on, Mom. It’s been two weeks, and the kids are dying to show you around.”

       “Why couldn’t you just buy a nice little house in town? Or if you had to move out there to the boondocks, why not rent from someone else? Anyone but those Rykers.”

       Hannah shook her head. Donna had always said the name with disdain. And she never used their first names. She lumped father and son together and deemed them both bad news.

       Of course, Mark Ryker had turned their world upside down when he started dating Sydney. He’d had a reputation for being wild, and when Sydney began coming in at night with alcohol on her breath, their mom had tried her best to end the relationship.

       But by then, Sydney was in love. Or so she had claimed. Hannah had always suspected she enjoyed hanging around a guy who was fun and easygoing like their dad—and not a bit like Mom.

       “Mom, I’m not going to debate my decision with you. But I would like to invite you for dinner next week. Tony keeps asking when you’ll come see his bedroom.”

       She harrumphed. “Well, you’re not going to catch me setting foot on those Rykers’ property. Tell Tony he’s welcome to come here anytime he wants to see his nana.”

      Don’t say it, Hannah. Be calm. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi…

       “Hannah, are you still there?”

       “Yes.” But she might have to bite her tongue off. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. She took a calming breath. “Please come out here one day next week to watch the kids. Redd will be at work. You won’t run into him.”

       “Hannah, I warned you when you first looked at that house. You’re just going to have to bring them to my house on your way to the bank each day. And snap some photos of Tony’s room.”

       Once Donna Williams made up her mind, no one could reason with her. Hannah should be grateful she had free child care with a loving family member. But she did worry about her mother’s attitude rubbing off on them.

       “I guess I have no other choice.”

       “I’m sorry. But I will stand firm. Now, I’ll see you at church tomorrow.”

       Yes, as much as she’d love to take another day to finish unpacking and get settled, she didn’t want to miss the service.

       Of course, if Mark had his way, she should keep the last of their belongings boxed up. He might, at that very moment, be talking his dad into forcing Hannah and her children out.

       She gripped her aching stomach—a two-year-long side effect of chronic worry since Anthony’s death. Worry about letting her children down. About not providing well enough on her own—emotionally or financially. What if one of the kids got injured or seriously ill? Or needed braces? What if she got injured or seriously ill, or lost her job? Or if a landlord decided to kick them out?

       All the more reason to stick to her plan to eventually own a home. She wouldn’t have to be at the mercy of a landlord. At the mercy of someone else to repair the property—or not. At the mercy of some man who could pop into town after fifteen years to try to ruin the life of another Williams sister.

       But home ownership was years down the road. For now, she needed this house that she and the kids had grown to love. If Mark thought she would give it up without a fight, he was sadly mistaken.