A Family To Share. Arlene JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
had never been what he’d hoped it would be. Even before Larissa was born, the relationship had shriveled into cold politeness. He should have fought harder to breach Laura’s defenses of silence and impersonal interaction. He should have been the husband and father that God had meant him to be, even if Laura hadn’t been capable of being the wife and mother he’d envisioned.
Now, it was too late to be a husband to Laura.
Who could’ve imagined that she would die so abruptly, especially from something as seemingly innocuous as a few ant bites? It was Larissa who needed him now.
To think that Larissa had been there, alone, with Laura at the time of her death was bad enough, but for the child to have spent the next day and a half wailing in her crib, waiting for her mommy to come and get her…
He shuddered at the memory. As long as he lived, he’d never forget how Larissa had fought and struggled, reaching for her mother as the ambulance crew wheeled the body from the room.
He hadn’t even handled that part of it well.
Yes, he’d been in shock himself, but a real father would have instinctively protected his child from such a sight. Nearly nine months later, he was no closer to being an adequate father. His little girl merely tolerated him, preferring even a strange woman to him, and all Dr. Stenhope could say was that he shouldn’t take it personally!
At times, he wondered if making the move from Tulsa to Fort Worth had been wise. He was willing to do anything—anything—to help Larissa. All the doctors and literature said that Dr. Stenhope was the foremost authority on detachment disorders in the entire southwestern part of the country, but Stenhope’s treatment didn’t appear to be making any headway with Larissa. She certainly hadn’t offered him the level of counseling and advice on parenting that he’d expected. Yet, he’d had other reasons for making the move—specifically, Laura’s parents.
He was too tired to even think about the Conklins right now. Sometimes he thought he was too tired to breathe. Nevertheless, he still had papers to look over and dinner to clean up after, if hot dogs and canned corn nuked in the microwave could be called dinner.
Off to the kitchen, he scraped ketchup from the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher before wiping down the table, floor and wall. Larissa’s table manners left much to be desired, but he dared not do more than sit stoically while she slung food around the immediate vicinity. He could imagine what she’d do if he actually reprimanded her.
After the domestic chore was accomplished, Kendal moved to the home office that he’d set up next to his bedroom and opened his briefcase. Rubbing his eyes, he settled down behind the mahogany desk to peruse the documents that had been handed to him that day. The new office was up and running, but they weren’t yet fully staffed, so these days he wore several hats as far as the business was concerned.
Any other time, he’d have been thrilled that things were going so well, but now he had more pressing matters on his mind, so much so that the numbers just didn’t want to compute tonight. After a couple of hours, he gave up and went to check on Larissa.
She didn’t even look peaceful in her sleep. Her eyes twitched beneath her closed lids, and her mouth was constantly pursed. As if she were aware of his disappointment, she sighed and flopped from her side onto her back. Her little hands flexed and then she sighed again and seemed to relax. Kendal bowed his head.
God help her, he thought. Please help her.
He meant to say more, but the words wouldn’t come out. They felt too trite and repetitive to make it beyond the ceiling, let alone to God’s ear. That, too, was his fault. His mom used to say that if he felt far from God, he was the one who had moved.
He missed his mom.
Ironically, that was something that he and his daughter had in common, if only she could know it. His own mother died when he was twelve, having contracted a viral infection that had attacked her heart, and the sadness had never really left him. He understood Larissa’s pain more than she could possibly realize, but that seemed of little value at the moment.
Slipping out of her room, he wandered around the dark, silent house. In the few months that they’d been here, he’d come to like this place, situated as it was in a safe, gated community on the eastern edge of Fort Worth. The residents could bike or run around the common green or even ride horses and picnic beside the small lake or creek. There were tennis courts and a weight room, too, but no community pool, as most of the homes, including this one, had their own.
When he’d purchased the property, he’d envisioned Larissa having pool parties and class picnics in a few years. It made a nice contrast to imagining his daughter institutionalized, which was what he really feared would happen.
Too exhausted to keep those fears at bay, he shut himself into his bedroom, where he collapsed onto his pillow. The house felt cold and empty, even though he could hear the central heater running and knew that Larissa slept just across the hall. Or was it that the coldness and emptiness were inside him?
He didn’t know how this had happened. He’d never meant to move so far from the God of his youth, never expected to be so unhappy in his marriage, so inadequate a father. Only God knew how desperately he wanted to fix it, but he simply didn’t know how. He tried again to pray, but he’d said the words so often that they no longer seemed worthwhile.
Gradually, he began to slide toward sleep. As he felt his body relax, his rebellious thoughts turned to a subject he had hoped to avoid: Connie Wheeler.
The minister’s wife was a kind, considerate woman. She was also lovely—all soft, dainty femininity. He sensed a gentle, willing spirit in her. Larissa was certainly taken with her, and she seemed to have a way with the child. Was it possible that she could somehow help them? Maybe, he mused, as awareness drifted away, that was why God had led him here, to this place and to that church.
He slept on that hope, more comfortable than any pillow, and by morning it had become a notion with a life of its own, a growing part of his consciousness. He tried not to give the idea more credence than it deserved, but throughout the difficult morning, he found himself returning to it, clinging to it, comforting himself with it, even praying that it might be so.
Larissa didn’t want to eat and didn’t want to take her bath or have her hair brushed. She didn’t want to be changed, and she certainly didn’t want to be dressed. Forcing her into her clothes, he prepared her for the day as best he could. In his desperation, he wasn’t above bribing her.
“Don’t you want to go to nursery school? Don’t you want to see Miss Susan? How about Miss Connie?”
He had no idea whether the minister’s wife would be around today or not, but he’d have promised the child Santa Claus if it would have stopped her from fighting him. But it didn’t help. Larissa remained distraught.
She quieted as soon as they pulled into the parking lot of the day care center, though, and his relief fought with his resentment. His daughter would rather spend the whole day at nursery school, where she wasn’t even particularly happy, than two hours with him. The worst of it was, he’d rather be apart from her, too. As he dropped her off, he was aware of a shameful eagerness on his part. He couldn’t wait to get to the office, where people actually smiled at him and at least pretended to be glad to have him around. He knew what he was doing there, what was expected of him, and he didn’t have to feel that he was inflicting himself on anyone.
How pathetic was he to let a toddler hurt his feelings so much that he wanted to turn away? It was one thing to feel that way about one’s spouse, but one’s child?
Father, forgive me, he prayed, driving away. I know I disappoint You as much as I disappoint her. And forgive me for that, too.
The words seemed to bounce off the windshield and sink heavily into his chest, weighing down a heart already heavy with woe.
Chapter Three
Connie opened the door to the church’s administrative building and smiled at her brother’s secretary, Carlita.