But it was hard to say no. Especially to Sam.
Mary cast a weary glance around the day care. What a mess. She’d have to round up Francis and Eliza and some of the others and take another shot at bringing some order to this disaster. Yet again.
She glanced with bitterness at the milky plastic sheet that covered the blown-out wall between the day care and the hardware store. How many times had Mary asked for some help dealing with it? The hardware store had been looted many times and the axes and sledgehammers and blowtorches were mostly gone, but there were still nails and screws and tacks strewn everywhere. Kids had to be watched constantly because they absolutely would crawl under the plastic and end up poking one another with screwdrivers and then crying and fighting and demanding Band-Aids, which had run out long ago and…
Mary took a deep breath. The council had a lot to do. A lot of problems to deal with. Maybe this wasn’t their top priority.
Mary forced a smile for the girl, who watched her solemnly and clutched her doll.
“I’m sorry, sweetie: what’s your name again?”
“Jill.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jill. You can stay here for a while until we work something else out.”
“I want to go home,” Jill said.
Mary wanted to say, Yeah, we all do, honey. We all want to go home. But she had learned that bitterness and irony and sarcasm didn’t really help when dealing with the littles.
“What happened? Why were you out on the streets?” Mary asked.
Jill shrugged. “They said I had to go.”
“Who?”
Jill shrugged again, and Mary gritted her teeth. So sick of being understanding. So deeply, deeply sick of being responsible for every stray child in Perdido Beach.
“Okay, then, do you know why you left your house?”
“They said they would…hurt me, I guess.”
Mary wasn’t sure she wanted to pry any deeper. Perdido Beach was a community in a permanent state of fear and worry and loss. Kids didn’t always behave too well. Older brothers and sisters sometimes lost it when dealing with their siblings.
Mary had seen things…things she would never have believed possible.
“Well, you can stay with us for a while,” Mary said. She gave the girl a hug. “Francis will tell you the rules, okay? He’s that big kid over in the corner.”
Jill turned away reluctantly and took a couple of hesitant steps toward Francis. Then she turned back. “Don’t worry: I won’t sing.”
Mary almost didn’t respond. But something about the way Jill had said it…
“Of course you can sing,” Mary said.
“I better not,” Jill said.
“What’s your favorite song?” Mary asked.
Jill looked bashful. “I don’t know.”
Mary persisted. “I’d like to hear you sing, Jill.”
Jill sang. A Christmas carol.
What child is this who laid to rest
on Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet