Her eyes flashed to the corridor then back to me. Last, “In the backyard,” she said. “They’ve helped me garden.
They’re tough little ones!”
I didn’t await excuses. I followed faint noises to the sliding glass door. As I stepped outside, the cool air hit me, but the dread kept coming.
“Lucas? Sophie?” Calling out. I saw them.
Heart plummeted. Lucas and Sophie clung to me, their small faces splattered with dirt and their eyes full with tiredness and relief. Lucas’ trousers were stained, and Sophie’s shirt had a shoulder tear.
No clothes seemed familiar—not what I prepared for them. “Mom!” Lucas gasped and hugged me. Sophie followed, trembling as she buried her face in my side.
“What is going on here?” Furious, I demanded, turning to Jean. “Why are they here? They should be having fun, not working!”
Lucas spoke shakily as he looked up.
Our grandmother said we had to help. We were promised a trip to the park if we worked well. Mom, we never went.”
Sophie said, “Your mother made us dig all day.
I wanted to quit, but she insisted we finish.”
I looked at Jean, who was standing a few steps away crossing her arms defensively. “Jean!” My voice broke as I shouted. “You promised to treat them this week, not make them laborers!
What’s this?”
She shuffled awkwardly on her feet as Jean blushed. “Oh, don’t exaggerate, Abby,” she remarked dismissively. “They wanted to help.
And why not? A little effort never hurts. Learning responsibility and discipline has been beneficial.”
“Responsibility?
Discipline?” My rage-torn voice swelled. Jean, they’re kids! They should play, giggle, and be kids—not crush their backs in your garden!
How could you approve?”
Jean raised her hands, sounding protective. “They must realize that life isn’t easy! Abby, you’re spoiling them.
Just trying to help!”
I breathed deeply to calm my feelings. I couldn’t allow my wrath engulf me in front of the kids. But I needed answers.
“Jean,” I said, “where’s the $1,000 I gave you for groceries and activities?”
She hesitated, looking down. “Oh, I didn’t need it for groceries,” she shrugged. “The youngsters didn’t need so much food.
I believed I could utilize the money for other purposes. Churned stomach. Other things?
What does that mean?”
Jean blushed and muttered, “I didn’t spend the money on the kids. I’ve been suffering with bills, so I thought getting help with the house and yard would save me money.”
I was speechless. Betrayal shook me to the core.
“So, you used my children as free labor?” My voice trembled. She flinched but didn’t argue. She said, “It wasn’t like that, Abby,” defensively.
“I thought it would be good for them—teach them hard work.”
“Hard work?” Increasing my voice, I repeated. Jean, they’re kids! Please use that money to offer them a week of fun and memories.
Not this.” I pointed to Lucas and Sophie on the backyard porch, their features pallid and tired. I realized this wasn’t just about the garden. Jean had always sought to control and prove she was right, and now she had dragged my kids into her twisted morality.
Lucas and Sophie were pulled into my arms as I knelt. I muttered, “I’m so sorry, babies,” cracked. “This isn’t what I wanted for you.”
I turned to Jean, whose head was bowed in shame.
“Jean,” I replied, steadily but sharply, “we’re leaving. My kids should be kids, not gardeners.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she mumbled, her lips trembling. Shaking my head.
“No, Jean. You didn’t.”
I grabbed Sophie, Lucas, and brought them into the home to gather their stuff without saying a word. We finished.
The crisp evening air touched my face as we left Jean’s house, a dramatic contrast to the oppressive tension inside. Sophie cuddled with me, her head on my shoulder, while Lucas held my hand. Their exhausted bodies dragged them down, making silence heavier than words.
Jean yelled, “Please, Abby,” after us. Stop becoming mad. They’ve learned lots.
Simply a misunderstanding.”
I stopped and gently faced her. She stood in the doorway, desperate and guilty. I pondered reacting, but what could I say to change anything?
The damage was done. “No, Jean,” I responded calmly. This wasn’t a mistake.
You made this choice without considering their needs. Children aren’t instruments or lessons to solve problems or show your point.”
I stopped Jean from replying by shaking my head. I trusted you.
You damaged my and their trust. I won’t repeat this.”
I didn’t care about her regret as she gazed down, crumpling. My kids needed me.
Lucas eventually spoke as I approached the automobile. “Mom?”
The doubt in his words broke my heart as I glanced down at him. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
Softly, “Are we ever coming back here?”
I pulled his hand tighter and replied, “No, buddy.
Not until Grandma learns to treat you well.”
Sophie stirred in my arms, muttering “Good.”
I belted them into the car and drove away, leaving the house, garden, and part of my faith I’d never get back.
