Capri chuckled. “I think I know. Did you have a look at that kid? I mean, whew! Every high school girl’s dream package.”
Lila shook her head with vehemence. “He’s the exact opposite of Aaron.”
Capri turned sympathetic. “Aaron was one of a kind. They don’t make them like your husband.”
Lila’s eyes flooded with tears. She angrily brushed them aside. “You can say that again. She never even got to know him. If she had, she’d know what to look for in a man.”
Capri reached across the table, her hand finding Lila’s in a grip that spoke volumes of shared histories and unspoken grief. “Lila, honey. Aaron set the bar sky-high. But you know, he’d want both you and Camille to find happiness, in whatever form it comes. Maybe this Cody Meacham kid isn’t the one for your daughter, but she has a good head on her shoulders. She’ll find her way.”
Lila’s gaze drifted past Capri, settling on a framed photograph on the wall, a candid shot of Aaron laughing, his eyes sparkling with life. “I see him in everything we do, Capri. In every decision I make for Camille. I’m just…I’m terrified of letting go, of forgetting even a fragment of him,” Lila confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “Even after all these years.”
Capri squeezed her hand tighter. “You will never forget, Lila. Aaron’s love—it’s woven into the very fabric of your being. But it’s also okay to make room for new memories, new joys. It doesn’t diminish what you had with him. It’s not about moving on, but moving forward, with him in your heart.”
A silence settled between them, comfortable yet charged with the weight of unshed tears and the warmth of enduring friendship. Lila nodded, a small smile breaking through her sorrow. “Maybe I was too harsh on Camille. Aaron would have found a way to see the humor in it all.”
“He would have,” Capri agreed, her voice gentle. “And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let a little bit of that humor, that love for life Aaron had, guide you too. Prom night isn’t the enemy, Lila. It’s just another step in letting Camille grow, and maybe it’s a step for you too—a step towards something new.”
21
By the following week, Reva realized that as much as she’d wanted to play Wonder Woman, balancing numerous responsibilities amidst constant interruptions and emergencies had become unsustainable. Circumstances had rendered her powerless. She was ready to remove her imaginary indestructible bracelets and lay them down.
Upon reluctantly sharing her ongoing struggles with her girlfriends, the first suggestion they gave was to find a caregiver for Lucan. Accepting this advice did not come easily to her. Each day, she became more captivated by the little boy—his playful antics, his infectious smiles, and his overall cheerful demeanor. The transient nature of fostering weighed heavily on her; she knew it wouldn’t last indefinitely. Truth was, she didn’t want to miss even a single moment of the gift she’d been given.
Lila quickly reminded her this was how all working mothers felt. “When Aaron was killed, and it was only me…I simply couldn’t do it all. I soon realized it was okay to hire some help.”
“You should talk to the Knit Wits. I’m sure those ladies would be thrilled to help you out,” offered Charlie Grace. “Once, when Aunt Mo was on a trip and I came down with a stomach bug, those three stepped in and helped watch Jewel. They were a godsend.”
Armed with their suggestion, Reva invited Oma Griffith, Betty Dunning, and Dorothy Vaughn over the following day for an informal interview. She pulled a pecan pie, shipped directly from her family’s farm store in Georgia, from the freezer and popped it in the oven. She also made fresh whipped cream from scratch. Her friends often teased her about her limited culinary abilities. But she had YouTube, and she knew how to use it.
When the time finally came to transition from a pleasant dessert to the heart of the matter, Reva found herself wracked with a mix of apprehension and determination as she sat down, clipboard in hand.
Nearby, Lucan busied himself with the stack of colorful blocks on a blanket within Reva’s constant view. The trio of seasoned, sharp-witted seniors renowned for their knitting prowess and sage wisdom, settled into her plush sofas having finished their pie treat.
Reva fidgeted, trying to maintain a professional demeanor. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. As you may have heard, I’ve been struggling to juggle my duties as mayor, attorney, and now mother. It’s imperative that Lucan has the best care possible while I don’t neglect any of my responsibilities to this town and to my clients.” She let out a sigh. “It’s a bit much.”
Oma Griffith nodded with a gentle smile. “We understand, dear. We’ve raised a few of our own, haven’t we, ladies?”
Betty Dunning chuckled. “Oh, a few might be an understatement, Oma.”
Dorothy Vaughn dabbed the corner of her mouth with a wadded napkin in her blue-veined hand. “Between us, we’ve probably seen it all. Don’t you worry, Reva.”
Reva took a deep breath. “Excellent. Now, onto my first question. How are you with crisis management? Say, if Lucan decides to start a small riot or attempts a daring escape?” Her attempt at humor seemed lame, even to her.
Betty laughed. “Darling, we’ve handled everything from scraped knees to teenage rebellions. A baby-sized riot sounds like a walk in the park.”
“And for escapes,” Oma said, her eyes filled with mirth. “Betty here used to be quite the sprinter in her day. Weren’t you, Betty?”
Betty gave a proud nod. “Still got the medals to prove it.”
Reva nodded, slightly reassured, then glanced down at her clipboard. “Right. Next, how familiar are you with the latest in child development theories? I’ve been reading about the importance of early cognitive stimulation.”
Dorothy tilted her head and glanced between her elderly cohorts. “Well, dear, we might not have all the fancy terms down, but we’ve been stimulating young minds since before it was a theory. Why, just last week, I taught my grandson algebra. He’s seven.” She leaned to Oma and whispered. “I had to study his textbook all night to pull that one off.” She chuckled.
Reva tapped her pen against the clipboard. “How are you with emergency procedures? I have a detailed plan in place in case of any unforeseen events, including, but not limited to, choking, falls, accidental poisoning, burns?—”
Before she could finish, Oma waved off her worry. “Betty here is a wizard with a first aid kit, and I’ve been known to concoct a mean herbal remedy.” She turned to the other ladies. “By the way, have you seen that woman on TikTok who warns that if you see a UFO in the sky?—”
Dorothy interrupted her well-meaning friend, “And if we find ourselves having to deal with any extraterrestrials, we’ll knit them a nice cozy blanket. No one can resist a good pearl stitch, not even aliens.”
