The Little Things

Chapter 2

A week later, Grace was grocery shopping when she got a text from her dad that had her running home. Bursting through the front door, she called out, "Mom! Dad!"

"In here," her dad responded.

Frantic with worry, Grace rushed to her parents' bedroom. "What happened? Is she okay?" All the text said was that her mom had been rushed to the emergency room.

"I'm fine," her mom assured her. She was propped up in bed with pillows behind her, and a glass of water and a bottle of pills next to her. Her ankle was wrapped in a bandage like a mummy, and a bag of peas was resting on top.

"You don't look fine," Grace replied, noticing her mother wince every time she moved.

"I was trying to hang a banner in the school's gymnasium and slipped and fell. It's just a sprain." Grace's mother was always volunteering for various committees and organizations. Grace remembered being dragged from event to event every weekend when she was growing up.

"You shouldn't have been up on that ladder in the first place. It wasn't your job," Grace's dad scolded.

"Someone had to do it."

"And you couldn't have called one of the teachers to help you?"

"They were busy," her mom replied.

Grace's dad lifted his eyes in exasperation. "Why am I surrounded by stubborn women?"

"Hey!" Grace and her mom cried out.

Her dad kissed her mom's nose. "Next time, get help. You're lucky your injury was minor. It could have been much worse."

"I'm fine," her mother insisted.

"Yes, but I'm not. My heart nearly stopped when I got the call," he said in a serious tone. His eyes shone with so much love Grace had to look away.

"Oh all right," her mom conceded, her voice softening.

"Good. Now the doctor said you need some food in your stomach before you take the meds. What would you like?"

"Just some crackers."

"I'll get it," Grace volunteered.

"No, no. Your father can get it. I actually need to talk to you."

That sounded ominous. What could her mom possible need to talk to her about?

When her dad left the room, her mom patted a spot on the bed. "Grace, I need to ask for a favor."

Relieved, Grace sat down next to her mother and took her hand. "Of course, you can ask me anything. You know that."

"I was supposed to be a chaperone for a high school camping trip this weekend. Obviously, that's not happening now. Would you go for me?"

"What kind of camping trip?" Grace didn't remember anything like that when she was in high school.

"It's for a mentorship program that started a couple of years ago. It's a small group—only two girls and two boys. You would be in charge of the girls, and there's another mentor who's in charge of the boys."

Excitement started to build. Getting out of town for the weekend was just what she needed. She was starting to go stir crazy with nothing to do but work. However, a sliver doubt crept into her thoughts. She could handle two teenage girls, but would she have to mentor them? What kind of advice could she give when her own life was still a work in progress?

"The trip is fairly short," her mom continued. "You would leave Saturday and come back Sunday. So what do you think? Will you do it?"

"Of course I'll do it, but what kind of mentorship program is it?"