Officer Krugle had taken a breather from demanding my personal information. I guess he hadn’t envisioned the boys breaking down as they had. But what had he expected? Did little boys ever calmly accept such a crushing blow to their existence? Perhaps, he’d believed they were like puppies and kittens — feed them and they followed you anywhere.
Carlo’s screams had quieted some, but he was still wailing against my shirt, latching on to the only warmth available to him for the moment. I hoped that helped. I’d do whatever it took to ease his heartache. I wished that I knew how to do it better.
I’d never tended a child suffering such a loss before. All I could do is copy what Old Mother had done to soothe my angst. She was the only kind and loving six-month foster mother I’d known. She’d taught me witchcraft and how to treat the world with compassion.
While I was thinking about Old Mother, who’d died several years before, and permitting a few unkind thoughts about the officer to tarnish my good will, I carried on massaging the little one’s back and did my best to get him to calm down. I had no platitudes for him, nor did I attempt to assure him that everything would be okay. I couldn’t lie like that. I refused.
I was worried that Carlo wasn’t getting enough air. I wanted to say, “Breathe, child; breathe,” but I don’t think he would have heard me. Could a child die from too many tears?
Before I’d made any headway at tear cessation, Mrs. Penn and Frances returned, empty-handed.
“You need to see the state of that house,” prune face said with a huff. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She glanced at Frances, but he’d slid himself down next to me, dissolving into my lap to become a second clinging body, attached to my arm and whatever parts of me he could lean himself into. I used my other hand to massage his back, too. All I had was a body of warmth. Would that be enough for these two little boys?
The selfish part of me was wondering how I’d gotten myself into this mess. I wanted nothing more than to stand up, shake myself free of this terrible grief, whistle to Frey, and journey far away from the situation, but I couldn’t do that. Dealing with someone’s need had always been my weakness. I was as likely to step away from these boys as I was to chop of an arm or leg.