Chapter 23
“What you got in the bags?” Jonah craned his neck to peer around Amayah’s arm.
She pulled her shopping bags closer before they could peek inside.
Clara chimed in too. “Is it food?”
Amayah laughed softly. “Now, now. We don’t ask what’s in someone else’s bag. That’s not polite.”
A few of them ducked their heads, chastened but still hopeful.
“It’s not like you have kids to shop for or anything,” Benji muttered.
Amayah blinked, trying not to show how much the words stung. “No, I don’t.”
“What’s for dinner?” Clara asked, voice reverent.
“Beef stew,” Amayah said. “The kind that fixes just about any problem. I put it in the crockpot this morning before I left.”
She’d added a little—okay, a lot—extra, just in case.
The kids cheered as if she’d announced a miracle.
“Can we eat with you again?” Eli uttered the words as if he were trying to sound casual but failed completely.
Amayah grinned at them. “You don’t even need to ask.”
Amayah couldn’t deny that dinner became a small-scale natural disaster.
The Crump kids descended on the stew as if it might vanish mid-bite. One elbowed another. A spoon clattered to the floor. Someone laughed so hard milk practically came out of their nose.
The kids talked over each other, stole rolls from neighboring plates, and argued about whose turn it was to use the only napkin that hadn’t been crumpled already and thrown on the table.
And yet . . .
They passed food to the smallest among them first.
They nudged one another closer when someone looked left out.
They shared in a way that went beyond instinct.
These kids were wild and loyal all at once.
Amayah watched them with a tight ache in her chest.
When the last bowl had been scraped clean and the kids’ energy had fizzled into contented quiet, Eli stood and clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s go before Ms. Door Lady changes her mind and makes us eat vegetables for dessert.”
Groans followed, but they obeyed.
As they bundled up, Maisie slipped away from the group and ran back to Amayah. Her tiny arms wrapped around Amayah’s waist with surprising strength. “Thank you for the food.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then Maisie moved to hug Luke as well.
As she did, Clara stepped closer and motioned for Amayah to lean toward her.
Amayah bent down.
“Don’t let them make us go away,” Clara whispered.
The words froze Amayah to the core.
Clara pulled back, eyes wide and solemn for someone so young.
“We’re being real good,” she added, as if that explained everything.
“Clara!” Eli called. “C’mon! We’ve got to go.”
In a blink, the kids were gone—boots pounding down the steps, a blur of scarves and mismatched gloves disappearing into the cold night.
Amayah didn’t move.
Luke stepped closer. “What did she say?”
Her voice came out soft. Uneasy. Certain. “I think something is wrong at their house. Really wrong.”