Page 259 of When a Soul Cries
I hung up on him.
He called right back.
A smile touched my mouth at the memory, but it faded when I thought about why accepting his help was so difficult.
Nobody had ever made my life easier without making me pay for it somehow. Sometimes the payment wasn’t money. Sometimes it was control, guilt, silence, or obligation.
Rome hadn’t asked me for anything.
That should’ve made accepting his help easier.
Somehow, it didn’t.
I glanced at the clock on my computer.
Almost five.
“Thank God.”
I checked tomorrow’s appointments, straightened the files on my desk, shut down my computer, and grabbed my purse.
The best part about leaving work was that I didn’t have to drive across Crestmont to pick up Halo.
Her daycare was right here at Eastview.
That was another thing I appreciated about what Rome had created here. On-site childcare made life easier for parents who didn’t have reliable transportation or couldn’t spend an hour every day traveling back and forth to daycare. For me, it meant Halo was only minutes away while I worked.
If something happened, I could get to my baby.
When I stepped into the daycare, I spotted her immediately.
She sat on the floor with two other little ones, colorful blocks scattered around her legs while she babbled seriously at another baby like they were discussing something important.
I leaned against the doorway, smiling.
“Well, excuse me.”
Halo’s head snapped around.
Her whole face lit up.
“Mama!”
“There my girl.”
She pushed herself onto her feet and waddled toward me so fast that one of the workers laughed. I bent down and caught her before she ran straight into my legs.
“Whoa. Slow down.”
She grabbed both sides of my face.
“Mama.”
“Yes, baby. Mama.”
I kissed her cheek until she squealed and pushed at my face with both little hands. Then I gathered her bag, thanked the daycare worker, and carried her outside.
By the time I strapped her into the Mercedes, my feet were hurting and my stomach was reminding me I hadn’t eaten enough at lunch.
