The stern voice of her employer pierced through the worries that were running circles in Grace's mind and brought startled eyes to the face of the rather stocky, sober looking man.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Edwards," she said, feeling the soft color flowing into her cheeks. Never before had she given her boss cause to question her job performance. "I'm afraid I've been letting my thoughts drift."

"No need to explain," he said, and though his tone was brisk the voice was pleasant enough. "I understand from Miss Perry that you've been under some stress of late. Taken on a few added responsibilities, haven't you?"

"A few," Grace admitted. "But that's no excuse for letting it interfere with my work. I'll try harder to keep my mind on business matters during office hours."

"But these aren't regular office hours, are they? Haven't Miss Perry and Cindy already called it a day? No sense in your staying when I can finish up just as well without you."

"But it will take you hours to work this new add out on your own," Grace protested.

"Hours are something I have plenty of. I've no one waiting for me and you know I thrive on the work. I'll just call my man and let him know I'm going to be sleeping here tonight. It's not the first time I've camped out on the office sofa."

"I thought your doctor advised you to slow down," Grace said, raising to her feet to accept the coat he had removed from a corner stand and was now holding out for her.

"I'll slow up when there's time to," the man smiled, moving to open the door. "Get a good nights rest, Grace. I expect you to be refreshed and ready to help put the finishing touches on the Merkintosh add tomorrow."

Snowflakes floated down in giant white clumps as Grace weaved her way along the busy Chicago streets. She drew in a deep breath of the cool, evening air and threw her shoulders back, trying to rid her mind of all its conflicting thoughts.

How drastically life could be altered in just three short weeks! Gone was the woman whose world revolved around her office work. Five children had now become the hub of her existence. And they all demanded, in their own ways, her love and attention.

Her mind went back to the evening, in reality a short time ago, and yet seemingly a lifetime away, when she had climbed those dimly lit stairs to enter Kathy's apartment. What had she been expecting, she asked herself as she dodged past a busy pedestrian. Certainly not the frightened, yet defiant faced young boy who had opened the door in response to her rather hesitant knock.

Burned into Grace's memory was her first sight of that barren, cold apartment. Rumpled clothing lay on the floor, a few worn toys scattered about amongst them. In the corner a slender, dark haired girl just entering into the first stages of womanhood, stood clutching a big eyed, fair haired toddler with a runny nose. Two young children, one a dark skinned girl, the other a sandy haired boy, knelt on the floor in front of an old black and white television set which was tuned onto a popular sitcom.

"Please excuse the mess," the boy had said, throwing a cloth doll and baby bottle off the couch in an invitation for his guests to sit down. "But it's kind of hard to clean up after the kids sometimes. I'm Peter, and that's Peggy holding Jenny. The two kids on the floor are James and Debby."

"And I'm Kathy's sister, Grace, and this is Pat," Grace said sinking down onto the lumpy piece of furniture. "I hope we haven't come too late in the day, but I did tell Mrs. Dillon to be expecting us."

"She said you might be dropping by before you left," the young boy, who was perhaps twelve, said as he sat stiffly in the only other piece of furniture in the room, an aged rocker, and faced his guests.

"And what else did Mrs. Dillon tell you?" Grace asked, gazing into the boy's vivid, brown eyes. He was wearing a red and blue plaid shirt which was thin and wrinkled, his tight, blue jeans looked a size to small and worn, yet in spite of his shabby appearance he spoke with a dignity and poise that surpassed his tender years.

At her question the boy's eyes darted to the older girl. Grace saw the girl's eyes darken as she moved to stand behind him, as though forming a battle line.

"It's all right, Peter," she said lowly, her expression so much like his that Grace judged them to be brother and sister. "You go ahead and tell them the truth. Just like Kathy would have wanted us to."

The boy squirmed in the chair, glanced at the two children on the floor who gazed silently in open trust back at him.

"Its like this, Miss." Grace saw him swallow hard before he went on. "Miss Dillon, told us to let you think we was blood born Powers, that we was to hide Debby in the bedroom if you came upstairs. But Peggy, me, James and Debby, we ain't no actual kin of yours, even if Mrs. Dillon wants us to claim otherwise. And there ain't no need for you to send her money to take care of us as though we was! Chances are Mrs. Dillon, would turn us over to the city social workers soon as you left and keep the money for herself anyhows, no matter what she says now. That don't matter for us older kids, but Jenny, she really is your niece and she still needs someone to take care of her. So, if you can maybe take her with you, or see that she gets into a good home, that would be what mom, what your sister, would have wanted."

Before the boy had finished his rather awkward, but sincere, speech Grace had had the curious feeling of somehow slipping into her older sister's place. Raising to her feet she had looked down at the sober faced boy who should have been enjoying his brief season of youth, but was, instead, fighting back tears.

"In spite of what Mrs. Dillon may have told you, it was my sister's wish that I take every one of you home with me. And that is what I intend to do. Now, unless you think it is too late, how about packing whatever you want to take with you, and coming to stay at the motel with me until after Kathy's funeral?"

The children had tried so hard to be good! Still, things hadn't been easy. The death of a loved one had effected them in various ways. Young Debby had experienced repeated nightmares that drove her to seek Grace's company in the midst of the night. Grace had gotten to the point where she just moved over in her bed and let the five year old crawl in beside her. Jenny had been sick with a cold that hung on, and though the doctor said it wasn't serious, it had caused the baby to be fussy and wakeful. James had taken to eating just about everything he could get his hands on, Grace believed in an attempt to comfort himself. And then there were Peter and Peggy. Peggy had proved to be withdrawn and quiet. Peter, though he too was quiet, had tried to shoulder all the household duties, and seldom smiled or laughed. Almost, Grace thought, as though he were afraid that if they misbehaved in any way she would send them back to Mrs. Dillon or some other equally unattractive place. And lastly there was Pat. Instead of proving a help as Grace had hoped, her younger sister openly resent the children's presence, and was constantly complaining and moaning about all she was missing because of her new parental responsibilities.

Was she being unfair to Pat, Grace asked herself as she started up the steps of their apartment house. The older children were in school most of the day, while the baby had been placed in a nearby daycare during the hours Pat worked. It was usually just a few hours between the time Pat got off work and Grace reached home. A few hours that Pat had to oversee the children's activities before leaving for night school. By the time she returned from class, Grace had usually gotten the children settled down and, if not in bed, at least prepared for it. Were the children interfering with her younger sister's peace of mind and happiness? They certainly had changed the carefree way the two women had lived. But what was she to do?

She heard the ruckus before she opened the door. Shouts of angry children mingled with thundering feet. As she stepped into the room three young figures suddenly froze. Peter, arms out flung, one hand gripping the tail of James' shirt, the other the seat of Debby's pants, turned wide startled eyes in Grace's direction.

"Aunt Grace, we didn't expect you home so soon!" Peter exclaimed, his hands unexpectedly loosening their firm grip so that the two children he had been holding fell to the floor.

"Obviously," Grace said, noting the mess they had made of the living room.

"We were just going to clean it up, Aunt Grace," James assured, his brown eyes earnest. "Honest."

"I don't doubt it," Grace said, thinking that Peter had likely been trying to start them on such a project. "Where's Pat? I didn't think she tolerated your roughhousing."

The children glanced nervously at one another. Peter moved rather uneasily on his feet as he explained, "I guess Pat had some errands to run, Aunt Grace. She'll be back in a few minutes."

Something in their faces told Grace that this was not the first time Pat had stepped out to 'run errands'. How many other times, she wondered, had her sister gone out? It wasn't that they weren't old enough to be left alone occasionally, it was Pat's falsehood that bothered Grace, her pretense that she had been slaving away, tending the children while Grace was at work.

They had just finished straightening up the room when Pat came sweeping into the apartment, her arms full of shopping bags.

Her eyes met Grace's, then flew to the clock that hung on the living room wall.

After the children were in bed, Grace thought, she would have to have a talk with her sister. A long, serious talk.

To be continued . . .

Be sure and come back next month to read another chapter in The Gift by Rosalie Joyce

The Gift
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    by Rosalie Joyce
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