Cracks in the Sidewalk(98)

“I’ve got to work,” he said with desperation, “and I’ve got no one to care for Jack.”

“I suppose I could do it,” she answered. “On a temporary basis.”

Jack stayed for five years, and Chloe continued to spend her afternoons at the McDermott house long after she’d outgrown the need for a babysitter. But they were not the only ones. After Jack came a frail little girl afflicted with severe asthma, then an autistic boy prone to fits of screaming, and twins who clung to each other as a drowning man clings to a scrap of wood. Eventually Claire lost count of the number who came her way, but she never lost sight of their needs.

Many of the sad, broken children carried the burden of life on their tiny shoulders. Every one of them needed love. And thus it happened that Claire became a replacement for other people—a missing mother, a dead father, a sick grandma. The children who came into her life became whole and then moved on, leaving her to wait for the next knock on the door, the next child who would stand there wearing a mask of fear and sorrow.

Claire turned no child away. When the winter wind blew and ice crusted the trees, she made certain they all had warm coats and shoes. In the blistering heat of summer, she loaded them into the car and drove to the beach. She baked cookies, helped with homework, taught right from wrong, and gave them love.

She envisioned each child as a counterpart to one of her own grandchildren. Every little girl reminded her of fair-haired Kimberly, even those with dark skin or curls the color of a flame. She saw David in the eyes of boys who wore a pretense of toughness to cover their tender hearts. When their frustrations erupted in tantrums that sent toys flying across the room, she stepped aside and waited until it was time to hold them in her arms. She knew the least about Christian. Christian was always blurry, the child too difficult to recreate. He was Tommy locked inside his autism, he was Brigitte who seldom spoke, he was all those with hurts too deep to be repaired.

With each new child who came into her life Claire wondered about her grandchildren, and she’d pray that someone would take care of them. After a while she prayerfully struck a bargain with the Lord. She promised to care for and love all of His substitute children, if He in turn would send someone to do the same for Elizabeth’s children.

~

After Adam moved up to the second-grade Sunday school class, Claire sadly figured he was gone from her life. But every Mother’s Day he came back with a paper card he’d lettered himself, and every Christmas he came with a clumsily-wrapped present. At first it was a toy or candy bar but as he grew older it became a handkerchief, a book, or, in one instance, dime-store pearls.

One by one the children grew up and moved on, but Claire stayed. Year after year she taught children on Sunday mornings. Even after a decade had gone by, Claire insisted that she was merely a temporary replacement for the teacher.

“I never know when my grandchildren might need me,” she’d say.

~

Charlie remained true to his promise, and for a good number of years Claire knew the whereabouts of her grandchildren even though Jeffrey had forbidden any contact. At Christmastime and on their birthdays Claire sent each of the children a card with a small amount of money folded inside, but all of the cards returned unopened with “Return to Sender” written across the face of the envelope with the harsh black strokes of a heavy hand. Jeffrey never sent an explanation or word of acknowledgement, and Claire knew her precious grandchildren had never received the cards.

Still she never gave up hope, and year after year when the unopened envelopes returned she tucked them into one of three cartons marked, “David,” “Kimberly,” and “Christian.” The cartons contained a number of things: small toys she’d bought for them that first year, photographs of their mother, mementos Elizabeth wanted them to have. Alongside Kimberly’s carton was the yellow-haired Cabbage Patch doll. Even after Claire knew they’d grown too old for such toys, she could not bring herself to give the things away. Emptying the cartons would mean she’d never again see her grandchildren.



Charlie kept Frank Walsh on retainer and received a report whenever a change occurred in Jeffrey’s life. When a brown envelope from Parsippany Investigative Services arrived Charlie would close his office door and read through every word, sorrowfully shaking his head as he learned the details of yet another fiasco. It disturbed Charlie that this man, the man he’d once considered a son, should lead such a hapless life. Knowing the downward spiral of Jeffrey’s circumstances weighed heavily upon his heart and Charlie believed it would trouble Claire all the more, so he filtered the reports when he relayed their contents to her.

Jeffrey married Kelsey Grigsby shortly after they moved to Wisconsin but Charlie told Claire nothing, nor did he mention it eight months later when they got divorced and the judge ordered Jeffrey to pay a sizeable alimony. After Jeffrey moved, Charlie simply told Claire that the kids were well and living in Brownsville, Texas, which he suggested was a rather pleasant town.

For the first three years it seemed Jeffrey moved every few months. He’d rent a house, accumulate a bunch of bills, and then run off without paying them. With his bouncing from state to state, it became increasingly difficult for Frank Walsh to find Jeffrey before he moved.

Within ten years, Jeffrey Caruthers, Jeffrey Thomas or, in two instances, Thomas Jeffrey had lived in at least six different states and married four different women. Each of those marriages had ended in divorce. The second wife rendered him deaf in his right ear when she hit him with a cast iron frying pan, and the last wife took his wages to collect her alimony.