Read Online When Joy Came to Stay by Karen Kingsbury - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Kingsbury
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spend the evening barely tolerating her husband’s probing glances and tidying a house that never seemed to be clean. Then she would stumble into bed and lie awake under the watchful eyes of whatever demons had taken up residence in her home.
The thought of it made her want to turn around and drivewest, maybe until she reached California or the ocean: Maybe drive the car into the ocean until it swallowed her up—along with whatever was trying to destroy her. However far it took to get away from it all. The tears came again, and though Maggie willed herself to drive home, forced herself to battle the desperation, she couldn’t still the one thought screaming through her mind…
Maybe it really was time to check herself into a mental hospital.
Seven
M AGGIE REMAINED AN EMOTIONAL HURRICANE THROUGH A LONG night of ignoring Ben and his roses and on into the next morning as she tapped out a column decrying the standards in many foster homes. She could barely concentrate for the voices waging war in her head.
She focused on the computer screen and the task at hand.
Come on, Maggie. You can do this.
She began typing.
Something is terribly wrong with our system when we place the abused children of our state in homes where, at least on occasion, they’ll be abused again. What type of safety net is that for a child who’s falling through the cracks? The time has come to toughen the standard by which we judge people worthy of taking in foster children.
Her fingers refused to move, and she pictured the boys, alone and scared at the bus stop.
Hypocrite. Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite. You’re the worst foster mother of all. Leaving those boys out at the bus stop while you…
“Lots of good feedback on the Social Services column, Mag.” Ron Kendall leaned against her desk so he could face her. “This the final one in the series?”
Maggie gulped. She was having trouble understanding him. Something about Social Services and a series. “Yeah…it’s a series, Ron.”
His face reflected his confusion.
What? Why’s he looking like that? What did I say?
Everything about who she was seemed to be disconnecting. As if nothingshe was thinking or hearing or doing made any sense at all.
Ron frowned. “Hey, Mag, you feeling all right?”
The way his eyes narrowed told Maggie he was genuinely concerned, and she felt a rush of panic. If Ron was worried, then maybe she really was losing her mind; maybe it wasn’t only a couple of bad days or the fallout from having forgotten her foster boys and nearly having been arrested the day before. “I…I feel fine, if that’s what you mean.” Maggie stared back at the computer screen, hoping Ron would get the hint and leave her alone. She had just thirty minutes before deadline.
“Okay” Ron angled his head and waited until he had her attention again. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself lately.” He chewed on his lip and gazed at the ceiling, and she had the strong sense he was searching for the right words to say. “I’m here for you, Maggie. That’s all. If something’s wrong let me know, okay?”
She forced a smile. “Thanks, Ron. I’m fine. Really.”
He walked away, and she stared at her column.
Everyone knows. It might as well be written on my forehead: “Maggie Stovall is going crazy.”
Over the next fifteen minutes she finished her column and for the first time since working for a newspaper, she didn’t bother to read it through again. Instead she filed it, pulled her things together, and headed home.
It was time to get to the bus stop. She would not forget again.
Five after three.
That’s when the bus arrived. Five minutes after three. 3:05 P.M. 3:05 in the afternoon.
The number sounded in her mind like the words to an unforgettable song:
3:05, 3:05, 3:05. The boys’ bus comes at 3:05.
Maggie had rushed through every activity since early that morning, everything from getting dressed to writing her column.She would not be late this time.
It was
The thought of it made her want to turn around and drivewest, maybe until she reached California or the ocean: Maybe drive the car into the ocean until it swallowed her up—along with whatever was trying to destroy her. However far it took to get away from it all. The tears came again, and though Maggie willed herself to drive home, forced herself to battle the desperation, she couldn’t still the one thought screaming through her mind…
Maybe it really was time to check herself into a mental hospital.
Seven
M AGGIE REMAINED AN EMOTIONAL HURRICANE THROUGH A LONG night of ignoring Ben and his roses and on into the next morning as she tapped out a column decrying the standards in many foster homes. She could barely concentrate for the voices waging war in her head.
She focused on the computer screen and the task at hand.
Come on, Maggie. You can do this.
She began typing.
Something is terribly wrong with our system when we place the abused children of our state in homes where, at least on occasion, they’ll be abused again. What type of safety net is that for a child who’s falling through the cracks? The time has come to toughen the standard by which we judge people worthy of taking in foster children.
Her fingers refused to move, and she pictured the boys, alone and scared at the bus stop.
Hypocrite. Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite. You’re the worst foster mother of all. Leaving those boys out at the bus stop while you…
“Lots of good feedback on the Social Services column, Mag.” Ron Kendall leaned against her desk so he could face her. “This the final one in the series?”
Maggie gulped. She was having trouble understanding him. Something about Social Services and a series. “Yeah…it’s a series, Ron.”
His face reflected his confusion.
What? Why’s he looking like that? What did I say?
Everything about who she was seemed to be disconnecting. As if nothingshe was thinking or hearing or doing made any sense at all.
Ron frowned. “Hey, Mag, you feeling all right?”
The way his eyes narrowed told Maggie he was genuinely concerned, and she felt a rush of panic. If Ron was worried, then maybe she really was losing her mind; maybe it wasn’t only a couple of bad days or the fallout from having forgotten her foster boys and nearly having been arrested the day before. “I…I feel fine, if that’s what you mean.” Maggie stared back at the computer screen, hoping Ron would get the hint and leave her alone. She had just thirty minutes before deadline.
“Okay” Ron angled his head and waited until he had her attention again. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself lately.” He chewed on his lip and gazed at the ceiling, and she had the strong sense he was searching for the right words to say. “I’m here for you, Maggie. That’s all. If something’s wrong let me know, okay?”
She forced a smile. “Thanks, Ron. I’m fine. Really.”
He walked away, and she stared at her column.
Everyone knows. It might as well be written on my forehead: “Maggie Stovall is going crazy.”
Over the next fifteen minutes she finished her column and for the first time since working for a newspaper, she didn’t bother to read it through again. Instead she filed it, pulled her things together, and headed home.
It was time to get to the bus stop. She would not forget again.
Five after three.
That’s when the bus arrived. Five minutes after three. 3:05 P.M. 3:05 in the afternoon.
The number sounded in her mind like the words to an unforgettable song:
3:05, 3:05, 3:05. The boys’ bus comes at 3:05.
Maggie had rushed through every activity since early that morning, everything from getting dressed to writing her column.She would not be late this time.
It was
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