Ransom

“It's not till seven,” Will said between mouthfuls. “You coming?” He glanced at her, acting as though he didn't care, but she knew he did. She always went. Even now, with so much else on her mind. She loved being there for him, and besides, it was her job. Or had been till now. She would have to do something else soon. But for now, she was still a full-time mother and loved every minute of it. Being there with them was even more precious to her now that Allan had died.

“Would I miss it?” She smiled at him and looked tired, trying not to think of the fresh stack of bills she had put in the box before she left to pick up the kids at school. There seemed to be more every day, and they were growing exponentially. She had had no idea how much Allan spent. Nor how she would pay for it now. They had to sell the house soon, for as much as she could get for it. But she was trying not to think of it as she spoke to Will. “Who are you playing?”

“A team from Marin. They suck. We should win.” He smiled at her, and she grinned, as Sam ate the cookies and ignored the apple.

“That's good. Eat your apple, Sam,” she said, without even turning her head, and he groaned in answer.

“I don't like apples,” he grumbled. He was an adorable six-year-old with bright red hair, freckles, and brown eyes.

“Then eat a peach. Eat some fruit, not just cookies.” Even in the midst of disaster, life went on. Ballgames, ballet, after-school snacks. She was going through the motions of normalcy, mostly for them. But also for herself. Her children were the only thing getting her through it.

“Will's not eating fruit,” Sam said, looking grumpy. She had one of every color, so to speak. Will had dark hair like his father, Ashley was blond like her, and Sam had bright red hair, although no one could figure out courtesy of whose genes. There were no redheads in the family, on either side, that they knew of. With his big brown eyes and multitude of freckles, he looked like a kid in an ad or a cartoon.

“Will is eating everything in the refrigerator, from the look of it. He doesn't have room for fruit.” She handed Sam a peach and a tangerine, and glanced at her watch. It was just after four, and if Will had a game at seven, she wanted to serve dinner at six. She had to pick Ashley up at ballet at five. Her life was broken into tiny pieces now, as it had always been, but more so than ever, and she no longer had anyone to help her. Shortly after Allan died, she had fired the housekeeper and the au pair who had helped take care of Sam previously. She had stripped away all of their expenses, and was doing everything including the housework herself. But the kids seemed to like it. They loved having her around all the time, although she knew they missed their father.

They sat at the kitchen table together, while Sam complained about a fourth grader who had bullied him at school that day. Will said he had a science project due that week, and asked her if she could get some copper wire for him. And then Will advised his brother what to do about bullies. He was in high school, and the other two went to grade school. Will was still holding his own scholastically since January, but Ashley's grades had plummeted, and Sam's first-grade teacher said he cried a lot. They were all still in shock. And so was Fernanda. She felt like crying all the time. The kids were almost used to it by now. Whenever Will or Ashley walked into her room, she seemed to be crying. She put up a better front for Sam, although he'd been sleeping in her bed for four months, and he heard her crying sometimes too. She even cried in her sleep. Ashley had complained to Will only days before that their mother never laughed anymore, she hardly even smiled. She looked like a zombie.

“She will,” Will had said sensibly, “give her time.” He was more adult than child these days, and was trying to step into his father's shoes.