NOTE TO SELF: FINISH COLUMN BEFORE SENDING.

“Where did you go to school, Hannah?”

“In my sisters’ wake,” she muttered.

Payt laughed.

She shot a warning look across his profile.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

“I don’t get it,” Sam said. He swung his foot, and the heel of his brand-new shoe landed on his blue backpack with a dull thud.

“Just making a joke.” She shook her head, but that didn’t quite jar loose the memories of her own school days.

“Why aren’t you more studious like your sister April?”

“Why aren’t you more social like your sister Sadie?”

Why aren’t you less like you and more like…someone lovable? That’s how the constant comparisons had echoed in her child mind.

“Hannah?” He poked the backpack again, and the lifeless lump of a thing slouched forward, bumping the back of Hannah’s seat.

Startled back to the present, she gyrated her shoulder to keep her seat belt from choking her when she looked at Sam and asked, “What, hon?”

“Did you go to the same school the whole time?” He kept his gaze focused out the window, his hand on Tessa’s car seat strapped in beside him.

“Well, technically I changed schools when I went to middle school and high school, but they were all Wileyville schools.”

“That must have been great.”

“Great?” Hannah followed Sam’s hollow-eyed line of vision to watch the sun-brightened streets of Loveland go rolling slowly past. It was such a pretty part of town, old enough to be quaint, kept-up enough to be pricey. It reminded her of Wileyville, the way it appeared in chamber of commerce brochures, not the way it really looked. “I guess it was great, in a lot of ways.”

“Payt? How about you?”

“Yeah. I went to the same school for a while. Then my dad sent me to military school.”

“Military school?” The boy blinked. “Did you learn to be a soldier?”

“A good little soldier,” Payt murmured under his breath.

Hannah touched her husband’s wrist.

“Be a good little soldier” was what Payt’s mother had told him when they loaded him on the bus that took him away from his home for the first of many times. It probably wasn’t the first time he’d gotten the message that his parents’ love was conditional, something earned, but it was the one that stuck with him.

“Yeah, they tried to teach me how to act and think and carry myself like a soldier. Couldn’t seem to get the knack of it.”

“Then, after that, you went to the same school for a long time, right?”

Payt laughed, but only out of the corner of his mouth, as though he couldn’t give his whole self over to the humor. “You know, sport, I never went to the same school for very long. Even after I stopped flunking out of school and failing at jobs I’d taken to learn a trade, I didn’t get to stay in one place too long. College, then med school, then to a hospital for my internship. After that the clinic in Wileyville, and now here.”

“Wow. You’ve started over even more than me! You must have got real good at it by now.”

“No matter how many times you do it, starting over is always hard, kiddo.” He squinted at the line of cars stopping at a red light in front of them. “But having people who believe in you makes it easier.”

Hannah gave him a look that, if Sam had seen it, he’d have called all girly and gooey.

Her husband reached over, took her hand and brought it to his lips lightly.

“Good job,” she mouthed.

He caressed her fingers before letting go and muttered back, “Thanks but it was pretty clichéd, don’t you think?”

She snuck a look over her shoulder, then whispered, “Hey, when you’re Sam’s age, you haven’t heard any of this stuff. Nothing’s clichéd. Besides, it’s true and it’s the right message to give him.”

Payt’s simplified answer had seemed to mollify the boy for the time being.

They rolled up to the light as it turned red again.

“Is that clock right?” Payt reached over to tap on the face of the digital clock built into the dashboard, as if he could jar it loose and suddenly give them more time. “We should have allowed for traffic.”

“No rush.” Hannah stretched her legs.

“You said school started at eight.”

“School starts at 8:35. I said we should try to get there around eight.”

“Why?”

“To provide for unforeseen circumstances.”

“Like roadwork.” He frowned at the brief snarl of traffic ahead.

Hannah lowered her head and peeked around the side of her seat at the young boy fidgeting with his safety belt in the back of the van.

“Like life circumstances,” she said softly.

Sam let go of the shoulder harness, and it slapped against his chest. He didn’t flinch or even seem to notice, just sat there staring out the window.

“All these cars can’t be headed to the same place we are. Why can’t we make any headway?” Payt made it through the intersection only to come to a dead stop again.

A million hopes and fears did their own version of gridlock in Hannah’s being.

“No rush,” she whispered again.

Payt gave her arm a squeeze, then raised his head to speak to Sam in the rearview mirror. “You’re going to do fantastic in this new school, pal.”

“Okay, I’ll try. I just…” The child folded his arms over his belly and bent forward.

Payt shot Hannah a laughing look.

Tessa threw a colorful cloth teething toy at Sam.

He batted it away and hunched his shoulders. “I just hope I’m well enough to make it through the day.”

“Hmm. Well, maybe we should cruise on past the school and head straight for Payt’s office to get you checked out?”

Sam stayed all scrunched over for a moment, then slowly straightened. “That’s okay. I kind of feel better now.”

“Do you?” Hannah asked.

“Huh?”

“Feel better? Really?”

“No. Not really.”

“Want to tell us about it?” Hannah asked.

Sam shook his head.

They drove the last few blocks to the school in silence.

Payt pulled the van into the small parking lot and found a space.

This was it. Big moment.

First day of school.

Hannah held her breath.

She and Payt had toured the long-established nondenominational school twice before deciding on it for Sam. They had gone through new student orientation and met with the school administrators, Sam’s teacher and her aide. They’d even seen the class hamster.

Sam had reacted to it all with resignation.

Hannah had wanted to give the child every reason to look forward to the experience, but Payt had asked her to hold some details back. He did not want them to build up Sam’s expectations only to have them dashed by a last-minute change of plans.

That’s what Payt had said, “change of plans.” What he’d meant was that he feared Sam’s father might have a change of heart and want the boy to go someplace else to live and attend school.

Hannah pushed the possibility aside and had gone about trying to prepare Sam to take the fourth grade by storm. All the coolest school supplies. Crisp, clean spanking-new uniform. She had done all she could to make sure Sam was ready.

But nothing she had done or could do would have gotten Hannah ready for this moment. All summer long it had been her and Sam and Tessa. Payt and Aunt Phiz and the soccer kids, too, but mostly the three of them. Together each and every day, learning from each other. Now Sam had to go off and learn from someone else.

“You know, all of a sudden my tummy doesn’t feel so good.” She laid her hand over her abdomen.

“C’mon, don’t lose it now. Everything will be all right.” Payt got out of the van.

The sliding back door rumbled as he pulled it open for Sam.

Tessa waved her fist in the air.

Sam watched the baby for a second, then bent to pick up her toy and handed it back to her.

“C’mon, kiddo,” Payt urged.

The boy kicked his backpack one more time, then heaved it up onto his shoulder and hopped out onto the blacktopped parking lot.

Hannah got out and scanned the lot. Here and there families stood beside cars, adjusting uniforms, making little speeches. Moms dabbed their eyes. Dads cleared their throats.

Corny as it sounded, the whole thing eased Hannah’s worries just a little. She’d done such a checkered job as Snack Mom, she’d hate to have failed at being school mom by being the only who didn’t handle the first day’s parting with absolute cool.

A gust of wind blew up from behind and tossed her red hair over her face. She started to slip her sunglasses on and poked herself in the eye.

Cool. Like that ever was an option for her.

Shading her watering eyes against the sting of the morning sun, she tossed her sunglasses into the van and slammed the door.

The instructions sent home for parents clearly stated they should not accompany the children inside the building. Volunteers stood waiting at the curb to shepherd the students to their rooms.

Hannah leaned one hip against the side of the van, staying near the open side door to monitor Tessa. “I should have signed up as a room escort.”

“Oh, yeah, you have time for that.” Payt patted her back. “Let it go, Hannah. Let him go. God’s got this covered, you know.”

She knew. But sometimes didn’t God deserve a little help?

“Okay, pal. Here you go.” Payt rested his large hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. “Any questions, concerns or true confessions before you head off?”

Sam pulled on the neck of his uniform shirt.

A few feet away two little girls squealed at the sight of one another and ran headlong into each other’s arms.

Sam frowned at them and placed his open hand on the van door. “Did you have friends in school, Payt?”

“Sure. I guess.” He shrugged.

“Did you have friends, Hannah?”

“I had sisters—does that count?” She worked up a meager smile.

Sam nodded. He took one bold step away from them then twisted around, his face pale. “What if…”

Hannah’s heartbeat swelled in her chest. She swallowed hard and bent at the knees to make better eye contact. “What, honey?”

“What if I don’t make any friends?”

Friends!

“Oh, no.” She winced. In her anxiety, Hannah had forgotten to tell him the news about the school, the news Payt had wanted her to hold back until they knew for sure he’d attend.

“What if nobody likes me here?” Sam pressed on before she could get a word out. “What if I don’t get asked to any birthday parties? At the last school I didn’t get asked to any parties at all.”

“Oh, Sam.” She held her arms open to the boy.

For a second or two she thought he wouldn’t come to her.

Then he inched closer.

And closer.

She held her breath.

He ducked his head. He rubbed his knuckles over his nose.

She didn’t try to force things between them, just waited and watched.

His lips twitched.

He wasn’t going to come to her.

Her jaw tightened. She didn’t dare blink for fear she’d tear up.

“Sam,” she whispered so softly, she doubted he even heard her. She brushed his back with her fingertips, then started to stand.

In a flash, the small boy rushed forward and flung himself at her, wrapping his arms around her so tightly that she almost fell over backward.

“Sam.” She laughed against his coarse straight hair. “You don’t ever have to worry about being alone again. You have me now.”

“And me,” Payt chimed in.

“And Payt.” Hannah hugged the boy hard enough for the both of them.

“And Grandpa Moonie,” Sam added as he stepped back, his eyes filled with hope.

“If you want to claim him.”

“Hey!” Hannah lifted her index finger to warn Payt to behave.

Her hubby grinned. “Then yes-sir-ree, you got Grandpa Moonie one hundred and eighty percent.”

“And Aunt Phiz.” Sam tugged his backpack firmly into place.

“Sure. And don’t forget Tessa.” Hannah nodded toward the baby flailing her legs and arms about in the confines of her car seat.

Sam wrinkled up his nose. “Tessa’s a baby.”

“But she likes you. Haven’t you seen the way her face lights up and her whole body wriggles when you come into the room?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Payt jiggled the pack on Sam’s back to shift the school supplies down so the thing didn’t throw the kid off balance. “And don’t forget, wherever you go, God goes with you.”

“I heard Aunt Phiz say that God isn’t allowed in schools anymore.”

“Some people want that, but that’s just because they don’t understand that they can’t tell God what to do or where to go. He’s everywhere.” Hannah fussed with the boy’s collar. “You just have to pray. And before you tell me prayer isn’t allowed in school, it is in this one.”

Sam whooshed out a long breath. “Good.”

“And that’s not all.” Hannah drew her shoulders up. “You know this school we picked out for you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You know why we picked it?”

Sam looked at the blond brick building with the bright red doors. “Because it’s a Christian school?”

“Yes, that, and also because we got some personal recommendations about it.”

Payt had worried about the expense of private education but Hannah had put her foot down. They had no idea how much time they would have with Sam. They owed it to the child to give him as much as they could for as long as they could. That meant an education that exposed him to the values they shared in a clean, safe environment. It also meant helping him to feel less isolated. To give him the gift of not just being loved but the blessing of being liked.

“You know who recommended this place to us?”

He shook his head.

“Stilton’s mom.” Yes, Hannah had turned to her exemplary counterpart for guidance. If anyone knew the best, it would be Lauren Faison. “Stilton goes to this school.”

“Really?”

“Yup, and his mom says that a couple of the other boys on your team go here, too.”

His mouth hung open for a second before he narrowed one eye and cocked his head. “Just ’cause they go there doesn’t mean we’ll be in the same class.”

“Well, that’s why you are headed to school, young man. You don’t know everything. This school only has one class in each grade.”

He looked at the school, then at Payt, then Hannah, then the school again. “So I’ll be sure to have my friends in my class? For sure?”

“For sure.”

“Yeah!” Sam gave a little jump, then pivoted and ran off as fast as his legs would carry him.

“Sam, aren’t you going to give me a goodbye hug?” Hannah called out.

“I don’t have time now. I want to go to school!” He never looked back, just charged on through the doors and down the hallway.

“Bye, Sam.” Hannah sniffled. “I’ll be here to pick you up at three.”

Payt put his arm around her and nuzzled her cheek. “Now what’s wrong? I thought you wanted him to want to go to school.”

“I did. But I didn’t want him to want it that much.”