Wednesday morning arrived too quickly.
I woke before my alarm and lay still for a few minutes, listening to Grant breathe beside me.
I wondered whether he was awake too.
I wanted to ask him what he thought would happen if Kelsey couldn't find an apartment.
Instead, I got up and started the coffee.
The children were moving around upstairs by the time I finished packing their lunches.
Ruby came down carrying her backpack.
She looked at the table before sitting.
The notebook from the previous night wasn't there.
I wondered whether she had heard enough to know that the adults still hadn't reached an answer.
"Morning," I said.
"Morning."
She ate quietly.
Finn complained about his socks.
Toby couldn't find the folder he needed for school.
The usual chaos carried us through breakfast.
I was grateful for it.
Children had a way of bringing life back into a room, even when the adults were making everything difficult.
After the school drop-off, I returned home and called Grant.
He answered on the second ring.
"Everything okay?"
"I want to talk about the plan before we speak to Kelsey again."
He was quiet for a moment.
"All right."
I explained that I couldn't agree to an arrangement without a clear understanding of the responsibilities.
I didn't want to spend the next several weeks discovering, one emergency at a time, that everyone assumed I would be available.
Grant listened.
Then he said he could handle more of the school transportation than he had originally offered.
He could also take responsibility for dinner on certain evenings.
I asked which evenings.
He named them.
I wrote them down.
It wasn't perfect, but it was specific.
Then I asked about Kelsey.
"What is she going to do if she can't find an apartment right away?"
"She'll have to keep looking."
"Where will she stay?"
He hesitated.
"I don't know."
I closed my eyes.
That was the question we had been avoiding.
If she went to Denver and the children stayed with us, we would have no definite end date.
If she delayed her departure, she might lose the job opportunity.
If she took the children with her, she would have to solve the housing problem immediately.
There wasn't an easy option.
But an option didn't become fair simply because it was difficult.
"Have you told her that you can't promise an indefinite stay?"
"I think she understands."
"Please don't assume that."
He sighed.
"I'll talk to her."
After the call, I returned to my work.
For a while, I managed to focus.
Then Kelsey came into the bedroom doorway.
"Can I ask you something?"
I turned away from my laptop.
"Sure."
She held a piece of paper in her hand.
It was the information for her flight.
"I've been thinking about changing my plans."
I waited.
"I don't know if I can leave the children here without a definite arrangement."
I felt a small release in my chest.
Not relief that she might stay.
Relief that she was finally considering the uncertainty from the children's side.
"What are you thinking?"
She sat on the edge of the chair near my desk.
"I could ask the employer whether I can start later. Or ask if they know of temporary housing."
"Have you contacted them?"
"Not yet."
I nodded.
"I think that's worth doing before you decide anything."
She looked at the paper.
"I was so focused on getting out of here that I didn't think through what it would mean for the kids."
I didn't know what to say.
It was the first time she had admitted that the plan might not be as simple as she had hoped.
I wanted to comfort her.
I also wanted her to understand that the children weren't luggage she could leave behind while she figured things out.
"Ruby is worried," I said.
Kelsey looked up quickly.
"She is?"
"She asked whether she had done something wrong."
Her face changed.
"Oh, Megan."
She pressed the paper between her fingers.
"I never wanted her to think that."
"I know."
I paused.
"But she needs to know what's happening. She needs to know the adults are making a plan, not that she has to behave well enough to earn a place here."
Kelsey wiped her eyes.
"I'll talk to her."
I nodded.
She stood and returned to the office.
I watched her go, then looked at the open laptop in front of me.
I had spent so much time trying to prevent the children from feeling uncomfortable that I had nearly ignored the way uncertainty was affecting them.
They knew more than we thought.
They heard the changes in our voices.
They noticed when conversations stopped as they entered a room.
They watched their mother fold napkins and their uncle look away.
They were trying to make sense of a situation that none of the adults had explained properly.
That afternoon, I picked them up from school.
Ruby was quieter than usual.
Finn talked about a drawing he had made.
Toby wanted to know whether he could invite a friend over on the weekend.
I answered what I could.
When we got home, Kelsey was waiting in the kitchen.
She had made a phone call during the afternoon.
She told us she had contacted the employer to ask about temporary accommodation and whether a delayed start was possible.
She hadn't received a final answer.
But she had asked.
That mattered.
Grant arrived shortly afterward.
We sat down together again.
This time, Kelsey didn't bring her notebook.
She brought a sheet of paper with several questions written on it.
She wanted to know whether there was a way for the children to stay temporarily if she had to leave Thursday.
I said we could discuss a short arrangement, but I wasn't willing to promise an unlimited stay.
Grant agreed that we needed a clear limit.
I watched him as he spoke.
He sounded sincere.
I wanted to trust him.
But trust wasn't restored by one conversation.
It was restored by what a person did after the conversation ended.
Kelsey asked what would happen if she couldn't find an apartment before the agreed period ended.
"We would need to revisit the arrangement before that date," I said.
"And if I still haven't found anything?"
"Then we'd need to look at other options."
She looked troubled.
"Like what?"
"I don't know yet."
The honesty seemed to disappoint her.
I understood why.
She wanted certainty.
So did I.
But neither of us could manufacture certainty out of a situation that remained unresolved.
Grant leaned forward.
"We'll keep helping where we can."
I turned toward him.
"Yes. Where we can. But we can't promise something we don't know how to deliver."
He nodded.
This time, he didn't argue.
We talked about the children's school routines again.
We talked about what would happen if Kelsey delayed her departure.
We talked about the possibility that she might need to take the children with her, depending on what the employer could offer.
Nothing was settled.
But we were finally discussing choices instead of treating one choice as inevitable.
Afterward, I helped Finn with his reading.
Ruby sat at the other end of the table, drawing in a notebook.
She had drawn a house with a red roof and three windows.
I didn't ask her about it.
I only made sure she knew where to find me if she needed anything.
That evening, Kelsey received a reply from the employer.
She read it twice before looking up.
"They're checking whether temporary housing is available," she said. "They'll let me know tomorrow."
It wasn't an answer.
But it was a possibility.
For the first time since Toby had asked about the airplane, I felt that Thursday might not have to arrive with everything still hanging over our heads.
Then Grant asked the question I had been dreading.
"If they can't arrange housing, can we keep the kids here until Kelsey gets settled?"
He looked at me as though he were asking for a simple favor.
I looked at the sheet of paper between us.
There was no end date written on it.
I understood that we might have to help.
I also understood that saying yes to an undefined arrangement would bring us right back to where we had started.
"I can't answer that without knowing what 'settled' means," I said.
Grant looked down.
Kelsey folded the paper.
Nobody tried to make me feel guilty.
That was progress.
But it wasn't a decision.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The More We Talked About Thursday, the More I Realized That Nobody Could Promise the Children Stability Without Making Difficult Choices
One Ordinary Dinner Revealed That My Husband and His Sister Had Already Decided What My Next Several Weeks Would Look Like
Part 6 of 12
