Instant Father. Donna Gartshore

community. She prayed that it had been a good experience for him. She noticed that Tyson had been more outgoing in class today. Of course, Charlotte thought with amusement, he looked more than happy to let Max Hansen lead the way.

      When Charlotte slid the silverware drawer open to get a fork, the drawer stuck as it always did. She frowned as she wiggled it gently to and fro. Finally the drawer opened, but instead of feeling satisfied, she sighed and mentally added it to the seemingly endless list of things in the house that needed fixing. Besides the sticky drawer, she needed more shelf space, the walls needed paint touch-ups, the leg on one of the kitchen chairs was wobbly and the light in the storage room remained out because she was intimidated by the light fixture cover.

      She thought of Paul’s offer to come over and help, and as she pictured his large presence in her kitchen, it did funny things to her pulse again. She wondered how she would possibly muster the courage to go overseas if she was thwarted by a few repairs. She didn’t want to need Paul’s help, but maybe if he could give her a few pointers, she could handle the rest. She wanted to be a strong, independent woman who could take care of herself and who had something to give back to the world.

       And, Lord, I want to stop feeling terrible about Anna every single day of my life.

      Then she did what she always did when guilt and regret threatened to consume her: she brought herself back into the present by being practical. She grabbed a pen and paper and started to make a list of things she would need to do if she was truly going to consider the missionary work. At least that way she could feel one step closer to her goal.

      When she began writing her list, her phone rang. When Charlotte saw her parents’ number come up, she briefly considered letting it go to voice mail, but then thought better of it.

      “Hi, Mom,” she said.

      “Actually, it’s Dad.”

      “Dad? Is everything all right?” Charlotte asked. Her father rarely called her.

      “Yes,” he continued. “I just needed to let you know that I’m worried about your mother. Her health doesn’t appear to be improving and the doctors aren’t able to give us any solid answers. I’m actually afraid she might be getting worse. But you know your mother—you can’t get her to take a break from anything.”

      Charlotte was concerned about her mother, too, but the timing of the phone call discouraged her from believing she’d ever get a chance to do the missionary work. But maybe she wasn’t meant to go and her role was to be there for her parents, because what had happened to Anna was her fault. And now, to add to that, she found it hard to shake the uneasy feeling she got knowing that Paul had doubted her good intentions when he’d heard she was thinking of going away.

      But she had told God she was sorry. She had told Him so many times she had lost count.

       Dear Lord, can’t I please be allowed to have a fulfilling life of my own?

      “Charlotte? Are you still there?” She could hear the strain in her father’s voice. He didn’t like talking on the phone, so she knew he must be very worried to have called her.

      “I can talk to Mom,” she said. “Try to get her to slow down, and we’ll definitely keep on the doctors to look for what’s causing her severe headaches. But, like you said, you know how she is.”

      “Thanks, honey. I appreciate you trying,” her father said. “We’ll see you tomorrow for supper.”

      “Yes, see you tomorrow night.”

      After they hung up, Charlotte started adding more items to her list. But unspoken questions buzzed around in her head and she put the pen down. She decided that she would go for a walk to try to clear her head instead.

      And, Lord, she continued her prayer, am I ever going to feel Your forgiveness?

      Because, despite what the Bible said, she didn’t feel forgiven for not protecting Anna, not in the slightest.

      * * *

      On Friday morning, Paul was in a good mood—mostly because Tyson was in such a fine one. It was remarkable how quickly his life had been become impacted by the little boy—this adorable legacy of his sister.

      “Max knows everything,” Tyson said as he shoved cereal into his mouth. “She’s going to show me at recess how to tie knots like they tie them for ships.”

      “A good skill for anyone to have,” Paul said. Speaking of skills, he wondered if Charlotte would take him up on his offer to help fix up her house. He had to admit he was curious to see what kind of home she had and how it reflected her personality.

      “That’s what I thought, too,” Tyson agreed, with enthusiasm. “Uncle Paul, can you believe that Max and I were in the same class and we didn’t even notice each other and now we’re best friends?”

      “That’s something for sure.”

      “Maybe you and Ms. Connelly could be best friends or get married or something.” Tyson nodded as if something obvious had been decided and set his spoon down.

      “We’ll stick with friends for now, okay, sport? Take your dishes to the sink and go brush your teeth. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

      A picture of Charlotte’s laughing face came into his mind. That made him smile.

      After Paul had dropped Tyson off at school, he was relieved to get to work and let the busyness of the day take over and not give him time to think about other things. Although he fervently hoped that Mrs. Meissner wouldn’t be one of his customers today.

      Constantly hiding his illiteracy was exhausting. It had always made him acutely aware of what people did and didn’t pay attention to. No one ever questioned him, for example, in a restaurant if he just pretended to glance at a menu and said, “That sounds good. I’ll have the same.” These days no one even blinked if you hadn’t read a particular book or news article, since it was so quick and easy to keep up with current events by other means.

      But all of that didn’t make him feel any better about it. He was tired of hiding, but every time he thought of doing something about it, he was frozen with fear.

      Once again, he wondered how it would feel to share his secret with Charlotte.

      Just before noon there was a lull at the garage, and Paul settled himself on a stool in the back to eat the ham and cheese sandwich he’d hastily made that morning.

      When Harold came into the back to find him, he braced himself for the worst. But all Harold said was, “It was great to see you at church on Wednesday night. That’s the kind of thing that people here in town really appreciate.”

      “Tyson and I enjoyed ourselves,” Paul replied.

      “Carry on, then,” Harold said cheerfully. “I’m heading out for a bit. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

      A few minutes after he left, the door chimed again, and Paul went to the front to see who had come in. He was caught off guard at how glad he felt to see that it was Charlotte.

      She was back in teacher mode, wearing a gray jacket, white blouse and gray pants, and she had her hair smoothed back into a tidy bun. He thought about how she’d looked on Wednesday night with her jeans, and her soft, loose hair and her ready laugh.

      “It’s like there are two different versions of you.”

      Had he really just said that out loud?

      For a second, Charlotte gave him an odd look.

      “I...ah—” he fumbled for the right thing to say. “I mean, your hairstyles...”

      “Oh...” Charlotte’s hand reflexively went up to the bun, and she smiled uncertainly.

      “You look great both ways,” Paul said. “I mean...”

      She also smelled good, the light scent of her soap reaching him, and he cleared his throat, feeling