idea.”
Maria took the kids to the restroom and helped them wash up. When they returned to the table, she passed out sandwiches and apple slices, but something kept her from joining Danny and Sara and opening the baggies that held her own meal.
Her gaze drifted to Trevor, who remained seated on the teeter-totter. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful of something small and bite-size.
A snack?
Maybe.
The baby moved about in her womb, and her stomach grumbled again. Her blood-sugar levels had been screwy lately, so she shouldn’t skip lunch, but she suspected that whatever had been in Trevor’s pocket had been his breakfast, too. So there was no way she’d eat in front of him. She’d just have to leave the park early. And next time, she’d make an extra sandwich—just in case.
“Trevor,” she called to the boy. “If you like peanut butter and grape jelly, you can join us for lunch. I have plenty.”
The boy’s eyes, as leery as a stray cat, studied her for a moment. A long moment. Then he slowly got up from the sloping wooden plank on which he’d been sitting and trudged to the table.
Maria placed the food she’d packed for herself next to Danny. “I’m glad you’re going to join us for lunch.” She nodded toward the gray cinder-block structure that housed the bathrooms. “Why don’t you wash up first?”
The boy glanced at his dirty palms, then turned over his hands and furrowed his brow as if he’d just noticed how grimy they were.
As he headed for the restroom, Maria wondered what his story was. Yet even though she was curious about who was looking after him and tucking him in at night, she wouldn’t ask. After all, there wasn’t much she could do, other than offer him scraps of food. She was having a tough enough time looking after her own kids and certainly couldn’t afford to take in strays.
Especially since she’d once been—and still felt like—one herself.
After lunch, as Trevor sat in the swing, digging the toe of his tennis shoe into the sand, a shadow settled over him. He looked up and saw Analisa standing beside him.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked. “We’re going to be leaving soon, and I need you to do something for me again.”
“Climb the tree?” He couldn’t believe she was still leaving notes and pictures and stuff for God.
She nodded, then pulled out a folded envelope from her pocket. “I wrote another one last night.”
“Why do you keep doing that? He hasn’t been answering you.”
“He did once . You saw it. And the letters we leave are always gone the next day.”
“Anyone could’ve taken them.”
Analisa crossed her arms. “ God took them. And He’ll answer every single one of them when He has time.”
How was Trevor going to get it through her head that this was a waste of time? God didn’t answer prayers. Trevor knew that; he’d prayed a ton of times and nothing had happened.
She stood there, that dumb letter in her hand.
Trevor should have told her no, but he took the note instead. “I’ll stick it in the tree, but I hope you’re not expecting an answer.”
“God’s just very busy, that’s all. How would you like to be in charge of the whole wide world?”
“If He’s that busy, why bother Him?”
“You can’t bother God, Trevor.”
The dumb little girl had an answer for everything.
“I’ll prove it to you,” she added. “What do you want? I’ll ask Him to give it to you.”
Trevor, who’d learned to keep his troubles a secret, wouldn’t tell her what he really wanted. But there was something else he’d really like to have. It was a long walk to the park, and he’d asked his dad for a bike last Christmas.
Absolutely not , his father had said. No bicycle . The way he’d said it made Trevor think no one but God could ever change his dad’s mind.
Trevor got off the swing and took her challenge. “Okay. I’d like a bike. A red one.”
Analisa grinned as though she and God were
Maria took the kids to the restroom and helped them wash up. When they returned to the table, she passed out sandwiches and apple slices, but something kept her from joining Danny and Sara and opening the baggies that held her own meal.
Her gaze drifted to Trevor, who remained seated on the teeter-totter. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful of something small and bite-size.
A snack?
Maybe.
The baby moved about in her womb, and her stomach grumbled again. Her blood-sugar levels had been screwy lately, so she shouldn’t skip lunch, but she suspected that whatever had been in Trevor’s pocket had been his breakfast, too. So there was no way she’d eat in front of him. She’d just have to leave the park early. And next time, she’d make an extra sandwich—just in case.
“Trevor,” she called to the boy. “If you like peanut butter and grape jelly, you can join us for lunch. I have plenty.”
The boy’s eyes, as leery as a stray cat, studied her for a moment. A long moment. Then he slowly got up from the sloping wooden plank on which he’d been sitting and trudged to the table.
Maria placed the food she’d packed for herself next to Danny. “I’m glad you’re going to join us for lunch.” She nodded toward the gray cinder-block structure that housed the bathrooms. “Why don’t you wash up first?”
The boy glanced at his dirty palms, then turned over his hands and furrowed his brow as if he’d just noticed how grimy they were.
As he headed for the restroom, Maria wondered what his story was. Yet even though she was curious about who was looking after him and tucking him in at night, she wouldn’t ask. After all, there wasn’t much she could do, other than offer him scraps of food. She was having a tough enough time looking after her own kids and certainly couldn’t afford to take in strays.
Especially since she’d once been—and still felt like—one herself.
After lunch, as Trevor sat in the swing, digging the toe of his tennis shoe into the sand, a shadow settled over him. He looked up and saw Analisa standing beside him.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked. “We’re going to be leaving soon, and I need you to do something for me again.”
“Climb the tree?” He couldn’t believe she was still leaving notes and pictures and stuff for God.
She nodded, then pulled out a folded envelope from her pocket. “I wrote another one last night.”
“Why do you keep doing that? He hasn’t been answering you.”
“He did once . You saw it. And the letters we leave are always gone the next day.”
“Anyone could’ve taken them.”
Analisa crossed her arms. “ God took them. And He’ll answer every single one of them when He has time.”
How was Trevor going to get it through her head that this was a waste of time? God didn’t answer prayers. Trevor knew that; he’d prayed a ton of times and nothing had happened.
She stood there, that dumb letter in her hand.
Trevor should have told her no, but he took the note instead. “I’ll stick it in the tree, but I hope you’re not expecting an answer.”
“God’s just very busy, that’s all. How would you like to be in charge of the whole wide world?”
“If He’s that busy, why bother Him?”
“You can’t bother God, Trevor.”
The dumb little girl had an answer for everything.
“I’ll prove it to you,” she added. “What do you want? I’ll ask Him to give it to you.”
Trevor, who’d learned to keep his troubles a secret, wouldn’t tell her what he really wanted. But there was something else he’d really like to have. It was a long walk to the park, and he’d asked his dad for a bike last Christmas.
Absolutely not , his father had said. No bicycle . The way he’d said it made Trevor think no one but God could ever change his dad’s mind.
Trevor got off the swing and took her challenge. “Okay. I’d like a bike. A red one.”
Analisa grinned as though she and God were
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