High Plains Hearts (43 page)

Lily nodded.

“Oh, by the way, the Lord giveth and He taketh away, also.” Marnie handed Lily a message. “The mayor’s office called. It looks like the grant for the day care center is a no-go.”

Lily sagged. “Did the mayor say why?”

“I just talked to his secretary. She said the need seems to be decreasing, and that, oh dear, I can’t remember the rest of what she said. You probably should call her and check.”

“How can she say there’s less need? There aren’t enough day cares here in town yet. Even with our increased limits, I still have a list of people waiting to get their children in here.”

Marnie held out a piece of paper. “Here’s the number. Ask for Linda.”

Lily walked down the hall to her office. The spring in her step was gone.

They needed the grant to expand enough to fill the need, even if it was temporary. They couldn’t rely on the former day cares reopening.

Many of the providers that she’d talked to were caught in a double bind. They needed money. They needed jobs. But they couldn’t do their jobs without having their houses rebuilt, which took money, which took jobs….

The upshot of it all was that many had decided to take other jobs out of necessity. When, if ever, they’d return to providing day care was anyone’s guess.

She called the mayor’s office and talked to the secretary.

Linda was sympathetic and understanding as she presented the mayor’s case. But it came down to one irrefutable fact. Like everywhere else in town, there was only a limited amount of money and many hands were reaching out. They needed to make the most effective use of the funds they had.

Lily understood the reasoning behind it. But how could she make them understand that the children were the community’s most valuable resource?

She thanked the secretary and hung up the phone, trying not to feel despair.

Lily cradled her head in her hands and prayed.
Lead me along on this, Lord. There’s so much at stake
.

Children should be happy. They should not hurt, and this flood had hurt them all badly. They deserved better. No child deserved to suffer, and no mother should have to choose between work and her children.

That had been one of her guiding principles at the Nanny Group, and she’d kept that firmly in mind as she worked through the cases. The files there had teemed with stories of deprivation and loss, those in which the mother had to make a decision based not upon her heart but upon her bank account.

The Nanny Group. In the far reaches of her mind, something glimmered. But try as she might, she could not get ahold of it.

Lily decided to go for a walk in the crisp autumn air to clear her mind. She put on her jacket and started out of her office.

She could hear the happy shouts of the day care, less crowded now that school was in session, and an idea blossomed in her head.

An hour later, she skipped back down the hall to the office.

“Don’t ever give up hope,” she said breathlessly as she flew in, interrupting a very startled Marnie in the act of sharpening a pencil. “God is good.”

“What is this all about?” Ric asked, coming out of his office.

“God is good,” she told him.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the glass of his office door. Her cheeks were bright, her collar was twisted, and her hair was sticking out in all directions, and she didn’t care.

“Yes, God is good,” he agreed, smiling at her, “but slow down.”

“I can’t. I’ve got an appointment at the mayor’s office.”

“I thought we didn’t get the grant,” Marnie said, taking the pencil out of the sharpener at last.

“We didn’t. But we may get something much, much better. I’m off to find out. Pray!”

Within minutes she was seated in front of the mayor himself.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said as he took the papers she handed him. “You’re quite an addition to our little community.”

“Thank you,” she said, still somewhat out of breath from her wild dash to his office. “And thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule for me. I know it’s a bit of a miracle getting in without an appointment like this, and I appreciate it.”

“No problem. What did you want to talk about? The grant? Did Linda explain to you—”

She nodded, aware that she was interrupting him, but too impatient not to. “Yes, she did. But I’ve come to talk to you about something a bit different that may work better for Wildwood.”

And she began her pitch.

She began by explaining about the Nanny Group, and how one population sector in need assisted another. As she spoke, she saw the realization settling on him and watched him gaining her excitement about the project she was proposing.

“We could be an incubator,” she said. “Only we won’t raise chicks, we’ll raise children. And day care businesses.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “It works like a business generator.”

“Precisely, but with the concerns of the flood thrown in. Those who want to return to being day care providers can operate out of our building while reconstruction teams can work together to rebuild the day cares. There are many that still need help. They lost so much, not just structurally but with supplies and even assistants in some cases.”

“Is there going to be enough space for everyone?” the mayor asked.

“I’ve been in contact with most of the people who had day cares before the flood,” she answered. “And I think we have enough little rooms and a large enough kitchen to fulfill most of the need I’ve seen expressed so far.”

“Eventually won’t you put yourself out of business?” he pressed.

“I hope so.” She grinned at him. “Although the fact is we probably won’t. We’ll slow down, but I think there’ll always be the need for more child-care facilities.”

The mayor leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen against his cheek. “I can’t say yes and I can’t say no, but what I can say is that I like the idea very much, and I’m going to propose that it be given a priority in the next round of funding requests. Can you put together a formal proposal for me, say, by next week?”

“No problem at all.”

She left the mayor’s office sedately, but inside she was whirling with delight.

It would work, it would work.

She spent the week laboring on a proposal to establish the incubation center, and when she hand-delivered it to the mayor’s secretary the day before it was due, she felt gloriously free.

Linda scanned the proposal briefly, making sure everything was there.

“Looks good,” she said at last. “Everything seems to be in its place. I’ll pass it on to the mayor when he gets back from his meeting.”

“Thanks,” Lily said. “I appreciate it.”

Linda smiled at Lily and added softly. “And good luck. Just between you and me and the stapler, I’ve seen all the proposals so far, and this one is by far the best. Unless something really wild comes up, I think you can count on something from the city.”

The relief Lily felt was overwhelming, and she turned her attention back to those people who meant the most to her: Todd and Ric.

That evening, in celebration of getting the proposal done and submitted, they went to Pizza Wonderama.

The real estate agent was there, too, and when he saw Lily, he hailed her. “I’ve been meaning to call you. I talked to the owners, and they’re willing to deal. Can we get together next week and talk turkey?”

Todd went with her as she set up a time with the agent to see the house again and discuss the price. He could barely contain his excitement at the thought that they might be moving into the little brick house, but something seemed to concern him.

When they returned to their table, she found out. Todd asked her, “Mom, why is that man coming to Thanksgiving dinner at our new house?”

“What?” Lily asked. “I don’t follow you at all. What do you mean?”

“Why is that guy coming to our house for Thanksgiving?” Todd repeated. “You said you were going to talk turkey at the house. And we always have turkey at Thanksgiving. And stuffing.”

Even as she explained to him what the term meant, she realized that Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away. With a bit of planning and some quick action …

She mentally totaled up the days. Yes, it was more than possible.

Maybe Todd would get an early Christmas present.

Christmas started early at Resurrection. The Parenting with Christ group had taken the My Ornament project, as they called it, to heart and were gathering enough glass and plastic baubles and beads and ribbons to outfit a thousand trees. Ric hadn’t seen them this happy, or this united in purpose, for a long time.

The children had taken to the revised Christmas program with glee. Ric was pleased to see the more outgoing children partnering with the shyer ones on their own, and they’d come up with a way that everyone would have a role.

Initially some of the children had resisted reciting the Bible verses from memory, and he understood that. Several children had stage fright even thinking about it. One poor little girl cried.

But the braver ones had stepped up to the task. He’d been delighted to hear Todd say to Penny, a girl who was so shy she hid behind her parents’ legs all the time, “Penny, if you go up there with me, I’ll feel brave. You can say, ‘This is Todd,’ and I’ll say, ‘Why, thank you, Penny,’ and I’ll say my Bible verse, and then you and I will bow like on that singing show on television, and we will be done, except maybe we will sing or something. We can stand together, okay, Penny?”

Ric had expected Penny to shake her head at the mention of singing, but instead she smiled and whispered, “Okay.”

It seemed so early, but Ric knew if they didn’t plan it now, they’d be crunched by the time Advent rolled around.

Had it really been—Ric had to stop to count—more than six months since the day the flood had taken over their lives?

In one month it would be Thanksgiving, and then a month after that, Christmas, and then New Years Day, and they would be done with this year.

It was amazing what they had lost—and how much more they had gained.

Lily received a call from Linda at the mayor’s office late on Friday afternoon. The decision on the funding would be announced late on Monday, so she would hear then about the success of her project.

She was on tenterhooks all weekend. It didn’t seem possible for a Saturday to creep by as slowly as this one did. Even shopping and a trip to the Bright Spot for ice cream didn’t move it along faster.

She and Ric went to a movie, leaving Todd with Marnie, but she couldn’t concentrate on the plot.

And Sunday morning she heard the sermon only marginally. Everything revolved around this grant.

After church Ric took them to brunch at the café in Star City. As Todd contentedly colored in the new coloring book his Sunday school teacher had given him, Ric and Lily leafed through the Bismarck newspaper.

They were discussing the interesting things they found, such as the man who had a trained hedgehog (“Why would anyone want to?” Ric asked), when Lily sat up straight.

“Listen to this, Ric. ‘Nanny Group Director Indicted.’ ”

“What? What does it say?”

“It’s not much. It’s just a short little bit. ‘Douglas Newton, 43, director of Chicago’s Nanny Group, was indicted earlier this week on charges of embezzlement, misappropriation of funds, and larceny, based upon an auditing of the nonprofit organization’s records. Further charges are expected soon, but a source close to the organization said the investigation was focused solely on Newton.’ ”

“Wow. They got him.” Ric laid down the sports section. “This means—”

“Yes. It means I’ll probably be called to testify.” Her chin rose just a bit. “I’m ready.”

Ric didn’t say anything else, but she knew he was worried—and what he was worried about.

This news might jeopardize the funding that was so necessary for the day care’s survival at Resurrection. Just being associated with that kind of criminal activity might tar her with the same brush. She had to face that.

The timing couldn’t be worse. She knew the mayor’s office had to be careful with the money they distributed through these grants.

Would they yank whatever appropriation she might get in light of the bad publicity something like this might generate?