Page 22 of A Surefire Love
She grinned up at him. He must’ve finally gotten it right.
The savory scentsof roasted meat and warm bread promised dinner would be delicious—once Blaze finally reached the front of the line. As she waited, she kept a wary eye on Mercy and her friends. Since Mercy had hung out at Amelia’s and Sarah’s houses all summer, Blaze offered to keep tabs on them tonight. Amelia’s mom had assumed the offer extended to her one-year-old, and Blaze hadn’t had the heart to correct her.
She rocked the stroller back and forth, grateful for the cloud cover that kept the sun from beating down on her. Across the street and down a couple of vendors, Mercy and Amelia hadn’t spoken to each other yet. At least, not as far as Blaze had seen. The trio of girls reached the front of the line, and Amelia ordered. Then Amelia said something to Sarah, who checked her pockets. Apparently coming up empty, she turned to Mercy.
Mercy opened her little purse. Blaze laughed when the first thing she pulled out wasA Wrinkle in Time. Next, she wiggled a wad of cash free. All those ones made her look like quite the high roller as she peeled off a few bills and passed them to Amelia, who put them toward her order.
“Attagirl,” Blaze murmured as she mindlessly followed the line forward.
Melinda started fussing, so Blaze hefted the munchkin from the stroller. Didn’t smell like it was time for a diaper change, and Melinda ate before Blaze took over twenty minutes ago, so she settled the baby on her hip. The change of scenery seemed to work.
When she looked at her sister again, Mercy and Amelia stood to one side, talking, while Sarah ordered. No moretension. Another answered prayer. Blaze needed to remember to talk to the Lord more often, like about how poorly work was going.
Melinda yanked her hair. Blaze stifled a cry and untangled the pudgy hand from her locks. “Sweetie, ladies don’t treat each other like that.”
A chuckle rose from behind her.
She offered the woman a sheepish smile. “Twenty minutes, and I’m already trying to reason with a one-year-old. I don’t know how moms do it.”
“I think you might have an idea. You’re Blaze Astley? Mercy’s guardian?”
Blaze pulled her hair over her shoulder away from Melinda’s prying fingers. Most people weren’t so formal about her connection to Mercy. They either assumed Blaze was her mom or they knew her life’s story and called them sisters. “I am. But I’m sorry, I don’t know you.”
The stout brunette extended her hand. “I’m Alicia Johanssen, Mercy’s English teacher.”
Blaze shifted Melinda to free up her right hand, but Ms. Johanssen saw the struggle and waved it off.
“Mercy has been talking about you,” Blaze said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard her excited about reading, but you seem to have done it. Hopefully the enthusiasm sticks until she finishes the assignment.” Blaze had never made it through an assigned book untilPride and Prejudice.The love of classic romances had stuck, but movie adaptations were more her speed.
“With frequent check-ins, we’ll try to all stay on track to finish.” Ms. Johanssen massaged her thumb against her palm. “I wasn’t going to mention this until I got to knowMercy better, but maybe it’s a sign that we ran into each other. Has she mentioned anything else about class?”
Blaze’s mouth went dry, and she shook her head.
“She started talking when she was supposed to be filling out a worksheet. When I said something, she looked like she might cry. Then she was too down and distracted to participate at all. I happen to know her fifth grade teacher, and I was in the office when she called you to bring her clarinet. The secretary said she’s already forgotten her lunch a couple of times too.”
Three times. And the school year had barely begun. She’d also forgotten her gym clothes once. If Blaze were more on top of things, they’d have this figured out already, but she had a hard enough time finding her own things every morning, let alone Mercy’s. She bounced Melinda. She’d rather change a diaper than continue this conversation.
Across the square, three strangers stood in line at the nacho truck, but no Mercy. Panic zipped Blaze’s attention from one place to another until she spotted the trio at a picnic table.
“Does she forget things a lot?” Ms. Johanssen asked. “Have a hard time staying on task?”
Blaze’s defensiveness came out in a loud sigh. “Kids forget things. Everyone does. And school wasn’t my favorite either.” That was one reason she skipped college and entered the workforce.
“Trouble making friends?”
Blaze motioned to the girls.
“Okay.” Ms. Johanssen stepped back. “I don’t want to speak out of turn.”
Blaze’s pride smoldered. Yet Mercy loved Ms. Johanssen,despite being corrected by her. That said something. “We’ve come this far. What are you thinking?”
“Mercy is a great kid. If you ever notice her struggling in some of those areas more than other kids are, the school could help you investigate ADHD.”
The letters, familiar yet unexpected, knocked a breath from her. “Is that the one where boys are hyperactive? Mercy’s not like that at all. When she cares about something, she can get so focused she loses all sense of time.” Blaze had experienced the same during busy sales days or when researching an interesting topic. She’d lost hours to songwriting and videos about rabbit care. If only more practical matters drew them in that way, they could avoid conversations like this one.
“Hyperactive boys are the stereotype, but just as many girls have ADHD. It goes undiagnosed more often because most females have a type that’s less outwardly disruptive.” She spoke with her hands more as she continued. “They forget important things—like lunch—often. They might be chatty, but they lose focus when others talk so they might not know the answers in class and miss social cues. That can cause disconnects with peers.”
Blaze shot another look at her sister. Was their normal really so … abnormal?
