Page 22 of Halo

She nods. “I’ll talk with my landlord.”

I write down her suggestion as I continue. “We’re going to visit the library later this week to learn how to check out a book. I’ll ensure some one-on-one time with Grady and help him pick out a book he wants to read.” I write that down. “Also, I want Grady to practice writing his name. It doesn't have to be pretty. It can be with chalk on the ground, soap during his bath. Anything. Get creative.”

She nods.

“One last thing: make observations with him. Ask him what he sees, smells, tastes. When you’re driving home, point out the green leaves or the yellow school bus. Have him count the number of red lights. How many wheels are on the car. This will get him thinking and interacting.”

A hopeful grin forms across her face. “Seems easy enough.”

“These small changes can do wonders. Let’s see how he does over the next few weeks.” I stack Grady’s papers together, placing them back into his folder. “I am going to talk with our intervention team about what we have talked about and these goals, just so everyone is on the same page. Do you have any questions for me?”

“I don’t think so.” She looks at the clock. “I better get going.”

“Of course—oh! One more thing …” I grab a stack of sticky notes, and quickly scribble my work email address and hand it to her.

She stands. “Thank you for being so kind to me.” She nervously meets my gaze. “I wasn’t sure what it would be like meeting you, but … this is nice. I’m happy Grady is in your class.”

“Me too.”

After I watch her head down the hallway, I close the door, and with heavy breath, I lean against it, gently cradling my lower abdomen.

One more down.

Chapter 5

Leah

“Thanks for picking me up, Lee.”

My sister-in-law, Rachel, gingerly gets out of the car, her hand on her five-month pregnant bump. She’s battled severe morning sickness since the day before the two lines appeared.Luckily, her body is offering her a reprieve this month, and she’s cautiously returning to social activities.

Tonight is our church’s harvest festival planning party. The rest of the world calls it Halloween, but because of the ‘evil’ nature of the holiday that’s rooted in pagan rituals, the church abstains from celebrating and acknowledging the holiday.

By throwing a party the same night.

It makes perfect sense.

I personally love Halloween, but as the preacher’s daughter, I can’t exactly boast that out loud.

Not that anyone cares what I have to say. However, I do appreciate that it’s a safe alternative from trick-or-treating for children.

“Is Jane Ashby the chair of the committee again this year?” I ask.

“You really think she’d give up her crown?” Rachel snorts. “Didn’t you get her email?”

I shake my head as I open the door to the fellowship hall.

We’re greeted by the nostalgic scent of burnt coffee—the kind that comes in a large canisters from the bulk grocery stores and is brewed in industrial-size coffeemakers. Soft contemporary Christian music plays over the sound system as women chatter and laugh, dispersed around several large round tables.

One by one they turn to stare at us, offering pleasant smiles and small waves, but it’s impossible not to notice how they melt into whispers, hiding their words behind cupped hands. Rachel is oblivious, exchanging hellos for coos over her growing belly. Marrying the senior pastor’s golden son makes you a very important person; carrying the first grandchild? God-like.

We find a pair of empty seats and drop off our purses and notebooks. “Rach, why don’t you get comfortable, and I’ll grab us some refreshments.”

She grins. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

I spin around and I am instantly met with the piercing stare of God’s gift to women’s ministry, Jane Ashby. Her best friends, Beth and Hannah, flank her, both with expectant bumps of their own. “Well, hey there, Leah. I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” Jane says in a syrupy-sweet, overly-enunciated tone.

I grant her a smile. “Of course. I love the harvest festival. I look forward to it every year.”