Carolina Wren

Chapter 12

Wren's POV

Where Tuesday morning was a breeze, Wednesday morning was a nightmare. From the moment he woke up, Keegan was a stage 5 clinger. I was having to do everything one handed because he simply refused to be put down, point blank, no questions asked. With Sheila still asleep, I didn't want to risk waking her up, so I carried him with me as much as I could when I wasn't having to crack eggs or move Juni around.

I'm just putting Juni's bottle in the warmer when Dylan blearily makes his way into the kitchen. My stomach sinks as I watch him stand on his tiptoes to look at where Sheila normally leaves the money and his face falls when he sees there's nothing there. He's getting older, maybe he's understanding more of this than I thought.

"Don't worry about it," I assure him as I turn my attention back to the stove and the eggs I'm scrambling. "I talked to her last night after you went to bed." He relaxes and I remind myself that this is why I hide the full truth from him. He's not even eight yet, he shouldn't be worrying about where his next meal will come from. It shouldn't even be on his radar.

Dylan doesn't need to know that Sheila wasn't swayed by our conversation last night. If I have my way, this won't touch him at all. I'll make sure they have enough to eat if it kills me. Even if they don't always like what I'm serving. Even if I don't always like what I'm serving.

"Do you want butter or peanut butter on your toast this morning?"

"Jelly?"

I sigh as I turn the heat off from under the eggs. "Sorry, Dyl. We don't have any jelly."

He frowns and mutters, "Peanut butter's fine," before grabbing what's left of the milk and pouring it into Keegan's sippy cup and then his own cup. His frown deepens as he realizes there isn't enough milk for all three of us.

"Don't worry about it," I tell him as I start putting food on individual plates. "I was going to drink water this morning, anyway." It wasn't really a lie if that's what I always did when we didn't have enough of something, right?

Breakfast is a nightmare. Juni is fussy and doesn't want to take her bottle while Keegan is throwing a fit because he doesn't want to be in his highchair. Getting everyone dressed is no easier since Keegan doesn't want to wear pants, Dylan is whining about the shirt he wanted to wear being dirty, and I can't find the only bra that works under the shirt that I wanted to wear today.

Before we leave, I dig out what's left of my money stash and count it, feeling hollow at how low it is. It'll have to do, though, so I shove it into my backpack before putting the reusable bags into the bottom of the stroller, including the high-quality insulated zipper bags. Those were gold that I hadn't even been forced to buy. Sheila got them as some reward for a project at work and she saw no value in them, so they were left where I could find them. They had given me the gift of being able to keep refrigerated items cold until we got home and even buy frozen foods.

If she had realized what a gift she was giving me, Sheila would have never left them laying around.

The entire walk to daycare, Keegan whines his fool head off, contorting like a snake in an attempt to free himself. We're halfway there when I realize that in my haste to get the kids out the door, I've failed to both put makeup on my face and do my hair, so I look like a complete and total wreck. If it wasn't for needing to save up my absent days, I would probably have just turned around and walked home.

Juni cries pitifully when I try to hand her to the teacher that absolutely adores her. Keegan screams bloody murder as I hand him over to his daycare teacher, who he normally at least tolerates. Kicking, screaming-- the whole nine yards. They haven't reacted like this since the third time I dropped them off.