Nathan was so proud of his skills that she held back on how good she was. Finally, she couldn't help herself any longer, and as they ended the game, she turned back and swooped in a long shot.

"Wow," Nathan said, his eyes almost as round as his mouth. "How'd you do that?"

She thought about it for a moment and then tossed one a little short.

"Maybe you just need a little more practice," he said.

She chuckled, picked up the ball, and pitched it into his arms. "Maybe, but I'll never be as good as you are."

Maria gave her a narrow-eyed grin.

Emily put a hand on each of their shoulders with a subtle glance of warning to Maria. "Off you go," she said. "It's time for your homework."

The children's tutor, Miss Hutchen, came in three or four days a week. Emily wondered about her sometimes, a slender woman with brown shoulder-length hair, always in heels and suits of tweed, and white cotton blouses. She was friendly enough, the little she spoke to her, but she always seemed in such a rush, off like there was a fire or something just as pressing.

Miss Hutchen made it clear early on when Emily tried to discuss the children with her that Mr. Schillings insisted he would be the one to notify if there were any problems. Although from everything Emily had seen, this just didn't seem like him.

In time, she saw a spark of promise brewing behind Miss Hutchen's eyes. And she began to believe that her distant, if not odd behavior toward her was related to Mr. Schillings' need to have a constant, and sometimes harsh, control over his household.

Emily might have let this realization slip by without notice except for the fact that back home she had been under the thumb of control herself. Yes, it was more intense back then, at least as far as she knew, but it was control nevertheless. It had been sort of like having her mind imprisoned. Like when the men caught her distraught, befuddled and red-eyed from crying. Claude would tell them she'd gotten into mischief, that he'd caught her stealing from him, or that she broke something he needed to punish her for. One time he had gone as far as to break a window on Steven's pickup and then blamed it on her just to cover up the reason for her tears. A week earlier, she'd cracked a house window; that probably gave him the idea in the first place. She didn't have a chance in hell of defending herself. The success of Claude's manipulations was baffling. It seemed she was under the spell of fear and had a hard time defending herself, but it was different now that she was in charge of the children.

Her attitude about her job had changed through the many ups and downs. And yet, there were still days when she made trips up to her room for... well, a drink. It was a simple solution. Alcohol put her into a world of fantasy. Oh, how she loved those fantasies. It made her feel good, helped her to relax, and brought a smile to her face even when things weren't going so well.

After spending so many years scrambling to take care of the men at the break of dawn, it seemed odd having to look for things to do. She felt guilty at first whenever the children were in class and she was free to explore. Although it didn't stop her from doing just that. Her favorite spot was the wooded area in the back yard. Eventually the guilt subsided and it wasn't long before she took two or three strolls a day.

Right in the midst of the island of trees was the flower garden where she first met Maria. That's where she ended up most days, sitting on the bench with her feet up, reading, or sprawled across the grass, looking up at the sky and enjoying the peaceful sounds of the forest. That's where she felt most at home.

One afternoon, she decided to take a path around the flower garden. She had been out meandering around for a while when she heard Maria talking to someone. She moved closer to the bushes and realized the little girl was visiting what she now thought of as the kneeling tree inside the flower garden.

"And God," the little girl was saying, "I'm still waiting for you to tell me if Mommy is there with you? The Sunday school teacher said all we need to do is to ask, and believe. So all I want is to know if Mommy is up there with you? You can whisper it, if you want."

Emily clamped her hands over her mouth, wanting to say something. Although, what could she say? She didn't think God was going to whisper anything to Maria. This sad little scene made her angry, and in desperation she looked up into the heavens, clenching a fist. If you won't come down and talk to her, will you at least give her... something?

After her prayer, she tried to sneak back to the house, but she ran into Maria anyway. The little girl was dragging her horse behind her, looking distraught.

"Hey, Maria. I was just thinking about you," she said, coming up beside her.

"Really? What about?"

"Well, I just thought I should let you know that... uhm, any time you need to talk to someone, that I'm here to listen."

Maria stopped and glowered up at her. "Where were you just now?"

Emily pointed. "Over yonder, a-around there."

"You heard me in the garden, didn't you?"

"Uhm... I didn't intend to. Sorry."

Maria mounted her stick horse and started up the walk again. "Well, don't tell Father."

"Of course I won't," Emily said, following after her, "but... why not?"

"He doesn't believe in God."

"Oh."

"He made me stop going to Sunday school with one of my friends. Said it was nothing but a fairy-tale." She stroked the head of her horse then turned to gaze up at Emily. "Do you think it's a fairy-tale?"

"No... no, I don't."

"But... how do you know for sure?"

Emily thought for a moment. "Well... See, for a time, I wasn't so sure. Then I thought about it, questioned everything... probably like you're doing now. And then one day it all became clear to me."

"But how? How'd you do it?"

"Oh, I don't know. It may be a little complicated, especially for someone your age."

"Tell me, anyway. Please?"

Emily knew she had to say something and hoped she wouldn't mess it up. "Okay. So, it has to do with space and how I came to believe that it never ends. See, I used to spend hours staring up at the sky. I still do sometimes. And then one day I figured that if space never ends... why can't there be a God who never ends."

Maria wrinkled her nose. "Space's got to end somewhere."

"What would be at the end, a wall?"

"Maybe it's just nothing."

"But isn't that what space is? Space is nothing in a sense that it isn't tangible. And yet, it's something in a sense that it allows a home for everything that exists. You know what tangible means?"

"Is it... something real, that we can see?"

"Yes, I guess it is. So then it struck me just how... I don't know, I guess how unique space is. It's the only thing that exists that can't change, and yet nothing can exist without space. Space can't be created, it can't be destroyed, just filled with everything that exists. The way I see it, everything that comes to an end must change in some form or another. If there was an end to space then it would have to change somehow, but there is nothing to change. And if there was no space, then the universe and everything in it couldn't exist because there would be no place to put it." Emily stopped. "That's probably a lot to take in. But, do you understand a little of what I'm saying?"

"You mean space is the only thing that can't end becaaause... it's impossible to change? Like God?"

"That's how I see it, anyway."

Maria stopped again and looked up into the sky. "It makes sense to me too." She smiled and skipped up ahead with the tail of the play horse scraping along the sidewalk. "Maybe that's why space is so big, to make room enough for God."

Emily laughed. "That never occurred to me, but I think you might have something there."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

A bond began to grow between Emily and the children, and she found herself caring about them more each day. The problem was that Maria and Nathan still fought like cats and dogs between themselves. It got so bad a couple of times, she was tempted to pack up and leave.

After reading through a number of books on child behavior and discipline, it became apparent to her that Nathan was trying to get his sister's attention, to get a reaction from her. Part of it was boredom, a need to express himself, and to release pent up emotions. Boys, she realized, were naturally more aggressive. She wondered if it was because men were the ones who usually went out and fought the wars. That confused her too because she had a difficult time understanding wars in the first place. Well... unless it was to battle against evil? Yes, there had to be something in that.

No matter how many unanswered questions were left to think on, her research taught her so much more than she expected. It opened her mind to many possibilities, and broadened her curiosity, even to the point where she became interested in the ways and whys of the men back home. She wondered what she could say to Maria and Nathan that would give them the best possible outlook on life. To help them see the importance of making the right choices. If only she'd had someone to teach her these things as she stepped into her teens, maybe, just maybe she... Well, what sense did it make to wish for what might've been? No wishing or dreaming would change what was.

She finally decided to confront the children straight out about their battles. She told Maria, when Nathan teased or pulled a prank on her, she should ignore him, and not give him the satisfaction of fighting back.

Whether it was the full moon or just a stubborn streak, her talk did little good, and so she threatened, pleaded, and bribed. Then everything went well for a while until something stirred things up again, and the fight was on.

It all came to a head one morning when Nathan put salt into the sugar bowl. Maria took a bite of her cereal and put up such a fuss that Nathan, by the glint in his eyes, considered his prank well worth the punch he received from Maria, and the ear-pulling he got from Pearl. Of course, Pearl laid into Emily before it was over, so after breakfast she took them outside.

"Nathan, why'd you do such a childish thing? Aren't you ever gonna learn?"

"I don't know," he said, giving her one of those sheepish yet sweet little grins he mastered so well.

She felt like swatting him a good one. But she kept one hand in a pocket, and a mere finger pointed at him. "As far as I'm concerned, young man, you ask for every punch your sister gives you." She touched his ear that was still red from the yank Pearl gave it.

Then she turned to Maria. "I told you before he does this just to annoy you. Stop reacting, will you?"

She glowered down at them, searching for a something that would rid the two of whatever ailed them. "We're going to the library," she said out of the blue. "Yes, us three... Now!" she added when they turned up their noses.

Once in the library, she was surprised at how fast they stumbled upon books they wanted and promptly found spots where they sat and read. She kept watching them, searching for books of her own, realizing she had accidentally discovered something important. She just had to figure out entirely what that was.

Every day it seemed she was learning more about them, and herself too. She wandered into deep thought at times, testing her outlook on life; like the idea that we all come with a purpose to fulfill. Could it be that everything she endured was so that she would end up here with the children? Or was that merely justification, making sense out of chaos? Yet, the thought it might be true was so electrifying it made her shiver with delight, as if somewhere in time she had chosen to give herself up to self-sacrifice.

One afternoon, she found Maria sitting on the front step, looking anxiously up the road.

"Hey, what're you up to?"

"Just watching for the mailman."

"So you're expecting a letter, huh?" Emily said, sitting next to her.

Maria nodded, reached over, and plucked a leaf from one of the plants that lined the house. "I'm not supposed to tell," she said, picking the leaf apart then tossing it aside. She brushed off her skirt then looked up at Emily. "Promise you won't say anything?"

"No... of course I won't."

Maria's eyes began to sparkle. "I've got a pen pal."

"Oh, really."

"Yep, and her name's Elsie. Starting this week, she's sending me a letter the second Monday of each month so I'll know when to expect them."

Emily thought this was the best thing for her. She was tempted to ask who had arranged it all, but decided it was better to wait. "I'm really happy for you, Maria."

As they talked, the limo drove into the yard, past the house and around the corner to the garages. Donald took the side entrance to his private quarters most of the time, although today he came around to the front as the mailman pulled up to the house.

He took the mail, shuffling through the envelopes as Maria watched in an obvious state of misery. His eyelashes flickered for an instant, and then he tucked the letters under an arm and came up the steps. "Don't you girls have something better to do?"

He didn't wait for a response but continued up the steps and disappeared inside. Emily noticed tears streaming down Maria's cheeks. She put an arm around her. "I'm sorry."

But Maria pulled away and ran off around the house.

Emily wished there was something she could do. She couldn't understand why her father didn't see nor care that she was still in pain over losing her mother.

Sometime ago, she remembered reading, or maybe it was hearing the phrase, once in a rut always in a rut. Now, finally, looking in from the outside, she understood what that meant. Her misfortunes followed her up the dirt road away from the farm to this very moment. And although there had been some unpleasant days since she left, but no worse than the few hours before, no matter what brought her to this moment, she knew that being with the children gave her a purpose in life, and that somehow she was going to find a way to make this up to Maria.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

Bud, Donald Schillings' uncle from Florida, showed up early one morning and took the children on a trip down the coast. They had been so anxious to see their great Uncle that Emily was disappointed she missed him.

Then five nights later, she was in the library when he walked in.

"Why, hello," he said. "You must be Emily." He sailed across the room and she stood as he took her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

"You too. So you're the Uncle Bud the children couldn't wait to see."

"I am, and I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to meet you the other morning. But I came in late, and we had an early breakfast reservation up the road."

"That's what I heard." She wondered if this was the uncle Donald mentioned at the restaurant. She didn't think this one looked exactly ready to keel over just yet. "Are the children coming in?" she asked looking past him.

"I just tucked them in. They had a long day."

"So how was it? Fun, I hope."

"Oh yeah," he said.

She stepped back and sat.

He took the couch across from her. "We always have a great time."

"They sure were excited to see you."

"Well, the feeling was mutual. They talked about you."