Page 38 of A Whim and a Prayer

“No, there was something I meant to ask Mrs. C, but I forgot, so I’ll just get it myself. But thanks, Beck. Abs, hopefully I won’t be long.”

“I’ll take you home if you want, Abs, since it looks like Winnie could be a while.” Beck leaned on her open window.

“You bet, Beck—that would be swell.”

Winnie grinned at how quickly Abby’s door flew open, almost clipping Beck in the stomach. Winnie shook her head. No doubt about it—her best friend had it bad for her other best friend.

“Okay, guys, see you at rehearsal on Thursday and this time, Beck, I’ll let you drive.” Waving, she jogged back to the building, sprinting up the steps when she saw the janitor locking the door.

“I forgot my purse,” she shouted, and the janitor nodded and reopened the door. “Thanks, sir—appreciate it.”

Hurrying down the hall, Winnie turned the corner and stopped.

“Sweetheart, the play will be over soon, and I’ll be able to come to all your games, I promise.” Mrs. Cullen stood at the payphone, head bowed and shoulders slumped while she listened to someone screaming through the phone, so loud that Winnie could almost hear what was being said.

“Patty, sweetheart, wait—”

But Patty apparently didn’t because Mrs. Cullen slowly replaced the receiver and then sank against the phone with a broken sob that sliced through Winnie’s heart.

Winnie rushed to her side and placed a gentle hand on her mentor’s back, tears burning in her own eyes. “Mrs. C?”

Mrs. Cullen startled and turned, cheeks so wet and torn with grief that Winnie threw her arms around her and held on tight. “Mrs. C … is there … anything I can do?”

“No, sweetheart,” she whispered in a nasal tone, “but thank you.” Patting Winnie’s back, Mrs. Cullen pulled away, swiping at the moisture on her face with a tremulous smile. “I’m afraid my ten-year-old daughter is not very happy with me right now. Says I’m the worst mother in the world.” All at once her lips began to quiver, unleashing a sob so heart-wrenching that Winnie felt it to the depth of her soul.

“Oh, Mrs. C!” Battling tears of her own, Winnie clutched her again, crushing her with all the love and caring this woman had shown to her and so many others. “She doesn’t mean it, I’m sure. For pity’s sake, I can’t tell you how many times over the years I wished I had a mother like you.”

A broken laugh parted from Mrs. C’s mouth as she stepped back, wiping at her tears. “I wish that were true, Winnie, but I’m afraid she resents my job, my acting, and even this fundraiser, saying I care for all of that more than I do for her, which isn’t true!” She reached into her pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “I try … I really do, spending most of my time at home focusing on her instead of chores, or even my husband, but it’s …”—she lowered her head with a sniff—“it’s never enough.”

Never enough.

Winnie’s heart stuttered as her mother’s words came back to haunt.

“You may find this hard to believe, Winnie,” her mother had whispered after one particularly volatile argument, “but I try to show my love to you in everything I do—clothes, jewelry, drama lessons, singing lessons, almost anything you want, and yes, even curfews.” Winnie had been shocked to the core when those blue eyes so like her own had finally welled with sorrow, spilling down her mother’s beautiful face with a sad shake of her head. “But it’s never enough ...”

“Oh goodness, look at me!” Mrs. C broke into her thoughts with an awkward laugh while a blush stained her cheeks even more than the tears. “Crying on your shoulder when you need to get home.” She paused with a wrinkle in her brow. “Why did you come back, dear? Did you forget something?”

Winnie nodded, taking a swipe at the moisture in her own eyes, her bubbly mood dampened considerably. “I forgot my purse.”

“Well then, let’s get it so you can hurry home.”

“Oh, and I had a question, too, Mrs. C, that I forgot to ask.”

“Yes?” Mrs. C smiled over her shoulder as she hurried back into the drama room.

“I talked to Norman this morning, and he says his laryngitis is better, but I’ll be honest—he didn’t sound like it on the phone.”

“Mmm …” Mrs. C pursed her lips.

“He claims that his doctor says he should be ‘right as rain’ come Thursday, but I don’t know”—Winnie’s lips twitched as she shook her head in tease—“he could be all wet.”

The sound of Mrs. C’s laughter chased all the gloom from Winnie’s soul. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see”—she leaned in close with a crooked smile—“and pray for a whole lot of rain.”

Winnie giggled while she retrieved her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “At least Thomas is ready to step in as understudy if Norman is still under the weather.”

“Indeed!” Mrs. C gave Winnie a quick hug. “Okay, young lady, you better scoot or I’ll be ‘under the weather’ with your parents.”

“Okay. G’night, Mrs. C.” Winnie walked to the door and then stopped, eyes glazed as she offered a wobbly smile over her shoulder. “You know what, Mrs. C? Sometimes I wish my mom was more like you, because you’re so easy to talk to. If you ask me, your Patty is one lucky duck.”