To Be a Family. Joan Kilby
wear like a dress and a pair of thick socks. When she was warm and had a bowl of cereal in front of her he sat down to make a list of all the things she would need.
Clothes. But what kind and how many of each item? What size? He had no idea of how to shop for a child. So he did what any red-blooded male would do. He picked up the phone and called his mother. “Hello, Mum? We’re back. Would you like to meet your granddaughter? Frankly, I could use advice.”
“Would I?” Alison Forster let out a sound that was half sob, half laughter. “I’ve been dying for you to get back. In fact, I’ve been waiting years for this day. It’s not the way I imagined it but… I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
John hung up the phone. His mother had raised three kids and regularly babysat his sisters’ children. She would know what to do.
Fifteen minutes later Alison Forster’s high heels tapped through the front door in a flurry of feminine excitement. She was all silk blouse, bouffant blond hair, loud voice and a cloud of perfume. In her bejeweled hands she carried bags loaded with dolls, a teddy bear, books and several outfits of warm clothing, including a pair of pink pants and long-sleeved top, socks and two pairs of running shoes.
“I didn’t know what size to get but figured I could always bring one pair back. Or take Tuti to the shop with me if neither of these fit. I hope you don’t mind me taking it upon myself to buy her some things, but when you rang a couple of weeks ago to say you were bringing her home, well, I just got carried away.” Alison glanced around. “Where is she?”
“I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I’m grateful.” John poked his head into the kitchen. “Tuti, come here, sweetheart. This is your grandmother.”
“Hello, darling,” his mother cooed and enveloped Tuti in a hug, squeezing her hard. “You can call me Nana. I know we’re going to be great friends. We’ll make cookies and go shopping and I’ll show you where I work—”
John winced as his mother prattled on. She had a huge heart but she could be overwhelming to people who weren’t used to her ebullient, extroverted style.
Tuti pulled out of Alison’s arms and took a step back. She glanced at John and took another step back.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “Don’t be shy.”
Alison held out a doll and tried to get Tuti to take it. “This is the latest toy, I’m told. All the little girls in Summerside have one. You want to be just like all the other children, don’t you?”
Tears started in Tuti’s eyes. She bit her lip then, without a word, turned and ran from the room.
“Oh, dear.” Alison’s manicured fingertips went to her lips. “What’s wrong? Doesn’t she like dolls?”
“You came on a tad strong.” John hadn’t realized until now how much his mother must want him to have children. She didn’t try this hard with his sisters’ kids. He was counting on her to ease him into fathering Tuti, to taking some of the burden of responsibility off him. If Tuti was afraid of her, that wasn’t going to work out so well. “It’s her first day. Give her time. She’ll get used to you.”
At least, that’s what he hoped. He glanced at the hallway down which Tuti had disappeared. Through work he dealt with juvenile offenders. On the other end of the spectrum were his nieces and nephews—well-adjusted children from loving homes, comfortable if not well-off, who all had two parents.
It brought home to him again how out of his depth he was with Tuti. Not only from another culture, speaking another language, but she’d recently lost her mother. Really, what did he know about raising a kid like Tuti?
“Thanks for the clothes and toys,” he said to his mother. “Help yourself to coffee. I’ll go talk to Tuti.”
He grabbed a teddy bear and some clothes and found her huddled beneath her blankets. Without a word, he handed the stuffed toy to her and waited, using the time to figure out how to explain the strange woman who’d hugged her too hard. He couldn’t remember, if he ever knew, the Balinese word for grandmother. After a few minutes Tuti emerged, her cheeks streaked with drying tears. She clutched the teddy bear to her chest and looked at him with huge dark eyes.
“The lady—” John pointed in the direction of the kitchen then at himself. “My meme.”
Tuti blinked.
“You’re my child,” John tried again. “I’m her child.”
Tuti looked blank.
He sighed. Should he insist she come out and be polite? He had no idea what child-rearing manuals would say about that. If Tuti were an Australian kid being obstinate, he would probably do just that. But she was far from home, cold, and this was her first day. Instinct told him not to insist on anything. He would make excuses to his mother and ask her to come another day.
“Never mind. Here, let’s put something warmer on you.” He pulled out the long-sleeved top. “Do you like pink?”
At the sight of the sparkly design on the front of the shirt Tuti got out of the blankets and stood before him, shivering. John helped her dress, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. He’d blundered his way through this time. But if his mother couldn’t connect with Tuti what hope did he have?
* * *
“GET OUT YOUR notebooks and pencils, boys and girls.” Katie pointed to the carefully drawn alphabet on the blackboard. “Copy out the letters in your very best printing.”
Heads went down, paper rustled, several tongues were tucked into the corners of mouths as the class of grade-one students got down to work. With a few minutes of quiet Katie sat at her desk and corrected arithmetic assignments.
A knock came at the door. She opened it to John, wearing his police uniform and a grim expression. Her first thought was that something had happened to Riley, and she pressed a hand to her chest to ease a flutter.
He must have seen her anxiety. “There’s nothing wrong.”
“Thank goodness.” Her second fleeting thought, which bothered her in a different way, was how good he looked, his broad shoulders filling out a crisp blue shirt topped by epaulets, and his navy pants with the sharp crease emphasizing the length of his legs.
Then a movement at his side drew her gaze to a little girl clinging to his hand. She was dressed in the school uniform, a blue-and-white gingham dress, one size too big. Her black eyes were huge and terrified. Tear tracks traced her round cheeks. One of the tiny silver circles in her pierced ears was twisted up. And her little pigtails, which stuck straight out from her head, were lopsided and uneven.
Katie’s heart melted. Poor sweet thing. Had he found her wandering somewhere in Summerside and brought her to school? Why hadn’t he taken her to the office? “Who do we have here?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” John said. “This is Tuti. I tried to get here before class began so I could introduce you. But first I had to buy the uniform then I had to get her to wear it. She’s not used to hard leather shoes....” He trailed off with a harassed expression. “Tuti, this is Miss Henning. She’ll be your new teacher.”
Tuti. The girl who lived near a jungle. She looked like she could be Balinese. Had he brought this child to Australia for a visit? Why would he enroll her in school temporarily?
“I don’t understand,” Katie said. “Who is she?”
John cleared his throat and met her gaze. “Tuti is my daughter.”
She stared at him. Surely she hadn’t heard correctly. “Your…?”
“Daughter.” His hand on Tuti’s shoulder tightened protectively. “She’ll be six years old next month.”
Katie laughed, a slightly hysterical sound. She clapped a hand over her mouth, aware that her reaction was inappropriate. And must appear bizarre to her pupils, not to mention to Tuti.
“I