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“Mom.” Cal frowned. “You have to color in the lines or she’ll take recess away.”
India sighed. “How about we talk about this later? Right now I want some caffeine, a clean shirt and a movie. Maybe a superhero movie? Or something with dinosaurs?”
Cal smiled. “Distracting me, Mom?”
She laughed. “Maybe.” She did need a clean shirt, though. A kindergartner’s strawberry milk carton had exploded all over her at lunch, leaving a residual stickiness even after spot treating.
“Can we go to the fort tomorrow? Take my arrowhead to Miss Ada and see if it’s important?”
“I’m sure it is, Cal.” She smiled at her son. He was probably the only five-year-old who worried about turning in his archeological finds. “We’ll go as soon as they open, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed. “Can we watch Journey to the Center of the Earth?”
“For the hundredth time?” she asked. “Fine. But we need to make a grocery trip first, okay?”
He sighed but nodded as they walked down the hall to the office, then waited patiently while she signed out.
“Mom,” he whispered. “Isn’t that Mrs. Wallace?”
India glanced at the front desk. “Yes, it is,” she agreed, wondering why the older woman was here.
“Cal!” Amberleigh came running at her son, all smiles.
“Hey, Amberleigh.” He grinned. “What are ya’ll doing here?”
“School,” Amberleigh said with a shrug. “Hi.” The little girl smiled up at India.
“Hi, Amberleigh,” she said, crouching. “You’re coming to school here? Cal really likes it.”
She nodded.
“Not yet, Amberleigh,” Mrs. Wallace said, coming to stand by her granddaughter. “We’re just checking.”
“I want school like Cal,” Marilyn said, tugging on Mrs. Wallace’s skirt.
“I love school.” Suellen spun, singing, “School. School. School.”
“I do, too,” India agreed.
“You have to do more than color,” Cal said. “You have to make letters and words and numbers, too.”
The girls stared at him, listening as he listed off all the things they’d do at school. India smiled at the older woman, unsure how to proceed. She had no desire to be embroiled in the drama between their families—but that didn’t mean Mrs. Wallace would feel the same. The only way to find out was to try. “They seem very excited about starting school.”
Mrs. Wallace studied her before answering. “They seem more excited about your son.”
“He’s a good boy,” India said, answering honestly. “Likes to make friends.”
“I noticed that, the other evening.” Mrs. Wallace’s gaze was curious. “My Brody was that way when he was little. Still is. Boy never met a stranger.”
She remembered. Brody had been a lot like Cal as a boy. Empathetic. Smart. Patient. He was friends with everyone. She’d been so drawn to his open smile, and she still was. Not that she was going to talk about Brody with his mother. “They are precious,” she said, nodding at the girls.
Mrs. Wallace smiled at her granddaughters. “They are. And they’re wearing me out.”
India laughed. “I can imagine. One was hard enough. Starting school soon?”
The older woman’s voice dropped. “It’s going to be a while. They have to be four. They’re turning three.” She sighed.
Poor girls. And poor Mrs. Wallace. “Have you checked on the Mother’s Day Out program at the church? It’s a couple of hours on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. It might be just the thing,” she suggested. “There’s also story time at the library on Tuesday and Thursday mornings and craft time once a month. And the fort has family hikes and crafts, too—they put out a monthly calendar. It’s not exactly school, but it gives you a few options to wear them out a little bit.”
