A Grateful Heart

by Donna Poole

“Emma,” Mia whispered, “you still awake?”

“Yep. Just looking for a happy minute from today to think about before I fall asleep.”

“You do that every night. Well, you can stop trying to find your happy. I’ve got one for you. Mom and Dad are taking us to Alabama for Thanksgiving! We’re staying in an ocean front condo. But don’t tell Mom I told you. Maybe she wants to surprise you.”

“I’ve always wanted to see the ocean! What’s it like?”

“You know how much you love Lake Michigan? It’s like that only way better. And we’ll walk the beach and collect shells. We’re going to have so much fun!”

“Mia, you’re the best foster sister I’ve ever had!”

Mia laughed. “I think I’m the only foster sister you’ve ever had. Didn’t you say all those other foster homes had only boys?”

Emma shuddered at the memory of what had happened in some of those homes, things she’d never tell Mia. In her thirteen years she’d been in eight different homes, and this was the first place she’d felt safe. But she wasn’t going to think about those places now, not when she could imagine sinking her toes into white sand in Alabama!

Emma usually woke long before Mia and helped Nancy in the kitchen before everyone left for work or school. She’d long ago learned things went better for her in the foster homes if she made herself useful.

As she hurried to the kitchen, Emma wondered if Nancy would tell her about the trip. Thanksgiving was just a few days away.

“Sit down, Emma.” Nancy sighed.

Have I done something wrong? I can’t think of anything, but she looks so upset!

“Mia doesn’t know this yet. Her dad’s company has transferred him to Alabama. We’re going down there for Thanksgiving, and we’ll be looking for a home to buy. It’s going to be hard for Mia to leave her school, her friends, and you. We can’t take you out of state, Emma. I want to make this as easy as possible for Mia. I’m trusting you not to say anything to her; we’ll tell her when we’re in Alabama. You’ll go to the sitter’s when we leave for our trip. By the time we return, you’ll be in another foster home. I think it’s better for Mia this way. It’s going to break her heart, and that’s partly my fault. I’ve let her get too close to you. I thought she understood you were just a foster child, but I’ve heard her refer to you as ‘my sister’ several times lately. Can I trust you not to say anything to her?”

Emma nodded mutely, tears running down her face. Am I just a piece of furniture to be shoved aside or donated to someone else? Don’t you care about me at all?

Nancy raised surprised eyebrows. “Don’t take this so hard, Emma. You’ve been in more foster homes than I can count. Surely you didn’t expect us to adopt you?”

It was only when she heard the words Emma realized that was exactly what she’d hoped. Mia was like a sister to her, perhaps Mia’s parents would learn to love her too.

Now I’m gong to be alone again.

Emma remembered words she’d memorized as a little girl when someone had taken her to church. It felt like God Himself was standing next to her, lifting her chin, putting steel into her spine.

I will never leave you or forsake you.

She heard Mia coming downstairs. Nancy gave her a sharp, warning look.

Mia hugged Emma. “Good morning, sister!”

Emma’s heart twisted.

“You girls need to pack right after breakfast,” Nancy said. “Mia, you’re packing for Alabama, and Emma’s going to pack to stay with the sitter.”

“What! Emma isn’t coming with us? Then I don’t want to go.”

“Mia,” her mom said, “we need to spend some time as a family. Emma understands. We’ve talked.”

Mia was furious and crying. “Emma is family. She’s as much family as you and dad.”

Nancy’s lips tightened into a thin line. “This is exactly why we need to spend time as just a family.”

Mia knew when she’d lost a battle. She sighed. “Emma, I’ll bring you back lots of shells, okay?”

A few hours later two thirteen-year-old girls parted in the driveway, one to go on vacation, the other to go back into an overwhelmed foster system. Mia thought they were parting for a few days. Emma knew it would be for years, or maybe forever.

“Mia, I want you to remember something Abraham Lincoln said.”

Mia smiled through tears. “You can’t go on vacation with me, and you want to talk about Abraham Lincoln? Sometimes you’re too funny, Emma. Okay. What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.’”

“So that’s why you try to think of a happy every night before you go to sleep? You’ve made up your mind to be happy?”

“Enough goodbyes!” Nancy said. “We need to get going, and the sitter is here for Emma.”

Emma watched Mia and her parents get into the taxi. The last leaf fell from the Maple and danced its way down to the driveway. In her heart, Emma was the tree, lifting bare arms in mute appeal to heaven.

The sitter tossed Emma’s luggage into the car and backed out of the driveway.

“Will I be at your house for Thanksgiving?” Emma was surprised at how timid her own voice sounded.

“Sorry, Emma. Your case worker is picking you up tomorrow. I don’t know where you’ll be for Thanksgiving. I hope you’ll get a good turkey dinner wherever it is.”

Emma stared out of the window at the bleak November landscape. She thought for a minute about warm, white sandy beaches, Alabama sunshine, and collecting shells with Mia. She let herself feel how wonderful it would have been to be Mia’s adopted sister. Those dreams were gone, and who knew what else life might take from her. Well, no one was going to get her grateful heart. That belonged only to her and God. She was barely more than a child, but somehow, she knew her survival depended on keeping it.

“Open your hand,” the sitter said softly. She placed a tiny, beautiful shell into Emma’s outstretched palm. “I went to Alabama once and brought back a few shells. I want you to have this one.”

Emma whispered her thanks and stared at the shell; its pale pink center swirled into smooth pearl, fragile as a dream, beautiful as hope. Her hand closed around it.