She let the pleasure of holding and shaping the wood calm her.
“Mama?”
She looked up to find Eleanor and Libby standing at her elbows.
The expectant looks in their eyes made her wary. “Yes?”
“We want you and Mr. Blue to come to our tea party.” Eleanor reached for Clara’s hand and Libby for Blue’s.
“We’re busy.” Her protest fell on deaf ears, and Clara reluctantly allowed herself to be propelled across the floor. She didn’t look at Blue to see his reaction.
When they reached the corner, she saw that the girls had fashioned vessels from bits of bark and leaves.
“You sit there and be the father.” Libby showed Blue the spot she meant.
The father! What were the girls up to?
“Mama, you sit here and be the mother.” Eleanor drew her to a place across from Blue. Clara sat on the floor, her skirt tucked about her legs.
Her daughters sat on either side of her.
“This is nice,” Libby said.
Clara raised her gaze to Blue, intending to apologize, but he met her look, his eyes full of surprise, regret, hope and despair. Her words stalled on her tongue. Was he remembering his own children? Was he finding this situation difficult? But perhaps a little enjoyable, too? She should play along until he indicated what he thought.
“Where did you get all the fine dishes?” she asked.
“We made them.” Eleanor sounded pleased with their efforts.
“Mama, you pour the tea.” Libby handed Clara a piece of wood that faintly resembled a teapot.
Feeling somewhat foolish, she offered tea to Blue.
“Thank you.” His voice grated as if he was as uncertain about this party as she.
“We made cookies and cake.” The girls passed around trays made of bark with tiny morsels of moss and other found objects.
A long slow ache crept up Clara’s veins. At her father’s house the girls had a beautiful china tea set. She’d purchased it for their Christmas gift last year, but they’d left it behind. She’d known they couldn’t take much in the way of belongings on their trip.
“We should talk about things,” Eleanor said.
Clara contained her thoughts. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Family things.”
Clara sent Blue a regretful look, silently apologizing for the awkward position the girls had put them in.
He shrugged, and then a teasing smile caught his lips. He turned to Eleanor. “Tell us about your family.”
She ducked her head. “It’s a pretend family with a mama and a papa and where children sit at the table with them. Like yesterday.”
Blue caught her chin and turned Eleanor’s face toward him. “That sounds like a very nice family.”
Clara held her breath as Eleanor’s eyes widened. Libby leaned forward, clinging to his words. Clara, too, dreamed of such a life. But how could she start over? It didn’t work that way. The girls sighed in unison, then turned back to the tea party.
“Mama, you’re the mother. You ask the father how his day was.” Eleanor waited expectantly.
Clara’s throat closed off. This pretend game offered too much while reality denied it. She pasted a smile on her face and turned to Blue. After drawing a tight breath, she asked, “How was your day?”
Blue’s eyes were dark.
She shook her head. “Never mind. Girls, Blue and I have work to do.”
She started to get to her feet, but Eleanor caught her hand.
“Mama, don’t you like our tea party? Did we make too much mess?” Her voice carried a wail. “Aren’t we good girls?”
Libby hung her head. “We’re not good girls.”
Clara sat down again and reached for them, but they both shrugged away from her hand. “You are the best girls in the whole world. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise.”
They continued to stare at the floor.
“It’s why we can’t stay,” Libby whispered.
“Of course it’s not.” Hadn’t she explained why they must leave and that it had nothing to do with the children? Her heart threatened to crack wide-open and spill sorrow and disappointment all through her.
She wanted to trust God, but it proved hard when her girls were hurting. Oh, God, please help them understand. Help them not to take it personal. Send Petey here soon so we can reach our destination and the girls can feel settled.