Read Online Unconditional by Eva Marie Everson - Free Book Online

seem to be aware of.
    â€œHer name is Sam, yeah, and she’s a clown . . .”
    Attention had suddenly turned to me. I jerked to the reality I may now have to do more than stand on the outside looking in. In their way, the kids were welcoming me into their group, making me one of their own. Trusting me with these moments of their lives. And this scrawny tree couldn’t hide me.
    Joe threw his hand over his mouth, clearly pleased with this turn of events.
    â€œGo, Sam! Go, Sam! Go, Sam!”
    With the exception of the whirring inside my ears, everything grew quiet around me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find enough air to sustain my lungs’ need to expand.
    What did these children want from me?
    What would I be required to give?
    â€œUh . . .” I said.
    The backyard was now completely still. Awkward. The children appeared confused. Joe looked concerned.
    Denise was the first to move. “Uh . . . uh-uh! Uh . . . uh-uh!” She swayed from side to side, creating a new song and the dance that went with it.
    She smiled as the children joined her. “Uh . . . uh-uh! Uh . . . uh-uh!” they shouted until everyone doubled over with laughter.
    Joe extended his arms outward, smiling sympathetically. “And the white girl goes down in flames,” he teased, clapping.
    The kids applauded, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I nodded my thanks toward Denise, who winked in return. I looked to Joe for a sign of what I was supposed to do next, but he didn’t seem to read my thoughts.
    â€œAll right,” Denise said. “Homework!”
    â€œAwww . . .”
    â€œLet’s go. C’mon! Get your book bags.”
    The children found their places without further argument. Denise and Joe had obviously been working with them for some time. Books, paper, and pencils were pulled from the book bags and deposited unceremoniously onto the tables. Denise began to walk around them, quietly orchestrating “homework time.”
    I found a place at an unoccupied table and sat to observe. Joe joined me there.
    â€œSo, what have you been up to, girl?”
    â€œNothing really.”
    â€œC’mon now. You can’t say that. I saw it on your business card. You’re a children’s book author?”
    I shook my head. “No. I mean, yes. I was. But I . . . I stopped writing three years ago.”
    Joe’s brow furrowed, the pain in his eyes reflecting what I felt in my heart. I’d lost so much more than just a husband when Billy died. I’d lost my purpose. The very thing I’d always wanted to do—and had done—but only for a short period of time.
    Joe opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, one of the children eased up beside him and tugged on his shirt sleeve.
    â€œWhat’s up, Bernard?” Joe asked, the tone of his voice calm and coaxing.
    â€œI’m thirsty, Papa Joe.” The child—a rascal with a round face and dark eyes—smiled up at Joe.
    Joe nodded, conceding. Our grown-up conversation was over. “I gotcha, big man.”
    Joe stood, scooping Bernard under one arm like a sack of potatoes. He ambled toward the back door, weaving once in his steps. I watched as his free hand hovered over his left side, fleetingly, as though he wanted to press into it but caught himself. He turned toward me again. “Don’t go nowhere, now. We got a lot to catch up on.”
    I nodded but said nothing.
    Joe opened the back screen door and set Bernard down. As the boy scurried in, Joe grasped the door’s facing with a hand and squeezed.
    â€œYes, we do,” I said, though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

Chapter Seven
    After the door closed behind Joe and Bernard, I shifted on the bench to better watch the activity at the tables. Denise stood over one of the children, pointing to a workbook splayed before him and speaking gently. I couldn’t make out the words, but her manner was encouraging, not only to this child