scary.
Of course, later on they would see that the dots were there all along (the deep passion at the museum, the obsession with
airplanes), but just now, en route home from Becky’s house, lulled by the warm feelings of their holiday, no one in the Leininger
family was connecting those dots.
CHAPTER FOUR
J UNE 1 was a bright, sunny day, but not for Andrea Leininger. It was two days since they returned from Dallas. There had been
no bad dreams at the Amerisuite, but there James had slept between them on a king-size bed. Both parents had been lulled into
a kind of breathless optimism by their undisturbed, peaceful rest over the long weekend. But this turned out to be like a
long pause between hiccups.
Now back in his own bed, James was again screaming in his sleep. The nightmares had resumed.
But that wasn’t the only reason Andrea was so upset on this Thursday, a warm, sweet morning with the breath of summer in the
air. What was troubling her was something much more prosaic, something every parent faces sooner or later: that she would
have to give up her precious James, separate herself and leave her only child with complete strangers. It had all seemed so
harmless, so routine when she first agreed to it. She had enrolled James in Mother’s Day Out, a once-a-week preschool program
for toddlers at the Asbury United Methodist Church, where the Leiningers had just become members. What could be more innocent?
A preschool program run by the church and staffed by carefully screened personnel.
The program allowed overstressed mothers to have three full hours to go shopping or have a long, lingering brunch while their
children were in reliable hands. It was not meant to drive mothers to three straight hours of hysterics, which is how Andrea
spent her first holiday from parenthood.
She had packed James’s lunch and his diaper bag and deposited him in the “Angels” class with ten other toddlers. James seemed
happy and excited as they walked down the hallway, brightening even more when he spotted the little kiddie gym and the small
slide in the classroom. He ran over to the play set, and Andrea handed his lunch bag and his diaper kit to Miss Lisa, making
certain to mention his complete health status—his latest shots, his allergies, the name of his pediatrician, her cell phone
number, and his toilet habits.
Then she bravely called out to James, “Bye, buddy, have a great time. Be a good boy and I’ll be back to get you at lunchtime!”
He didn’t even hear her, he was so busy with his new pals and toys.
Fine,
she thought—no tears, no excruciating farewells, no tugging at her, no having to pry his little fingers from her calves.
It was clean and simple. Now all she had to do was kill three childless hours. Three blissful, carefree hours. She would go
shopping and…
But as she pulled out of the parking lot and into Johnston Street, it hit her. She was leaving her baby… to…
whom
?! She didn’t know these people. Not really. For all she knew, they could be paroled child molesters! Ax murderers! Just exactly
what did she know about these so-called teachers who called themselves Miss Lisa and Miss Cheryl? And even if they were as
good as Mother Goose, would they know what to do in a crisis? What if James choked? What if the other kids were mean to him?
What if he missed her?
Oh, there were high-operatic fears that she could scale like a lyric soprano.
And what would James make of being there? He would think she had abandoned him. Wouldn’t that be the assumption of a two-year-old?
Look around and Mom’s not there; ergo, she’s gone—forever.
Naturally, Andrea tried to prepare him. She told him about the school, she said it would be only for a little while, and then
she would be back. But did he really understand? He was too little.
She didn’t understand!
In this dark moment of woe, she turned to her mother. She called Bobbi on her cell phone, trying to hide
Of course, later on they would see that the dots were there all along (the deep passion at the museum, the obsession with
airplanes), but just now, en route home from Becky’s house, lulled by the warm feelings of their holiday, no one in the Leininger
family was connecting those dots.
CHAPTER FOUR
J UNE 1 was a bright, sunny day, but not for Andrea Leininger. It was two days since they returned from Dallas. There had been
no bad dreams at the Amerisuite, but there James had slept between them on a king-size bed. Both parents had been lulled into
a kind of breathless optimism by their undisturbed, peaceful rest over the long weekend. But this turned out to be like a
long pause between hiccups.
Now back in his own bed, James was again screaming in his sleep. The nightmares had resumed.
But that wasn’t the only reason Andrea was so upset on this Thursday, a warm, sweet morning with the breath of summer in the
air. What was troubling her was something much more prosaic, something every parent faces sooner or later: that she would
have to give up her precious James, separate herself and leave her only child with complete strangers. It had all seemed so
harmless, so routine when she first agreed to it. She had enrolled James in Mother’s Day Out, a once-a-week preschool program
for toddlers at the Asbury United Methodist Church, where the Leiningers had just become members. What could be more innocent?
A preschool program run by the church and staffed by carefully screened personnel.
The program allowed overstressed mothers to have three full hours to go shopping or have a long, lingering brunch while their
children were in reliable hands. It was not meant to drive mothers to three straight hours of hysterics, which is how Andrea
spent her first holiday from parenthood.
She had packed James’s lunch and his diaper bag and deposited him in the “Angels” class with ten other toddlers. James seemed
happy and excited as they walked down the hallway, brightening even more when he spotted the little kiddie gym and the small
slide in the classroom. He ran over to the play set, and Andrea handed his lunch bag and his diaper kit to Miss Lisa, making
certain to mention his complete health status—his latest shots, his allergies, the name of his pediatrician, her cell phone
number, and his toilet habits.
Then she bravely called out to James, “Bye, buddy, have a great time. Be a good boy and I’ll be back to get you at lunchtime!”
He didn’t even hear her, he was so busy with his new pals and toys.
Fine,
she thought—no tears, no excruciating farewells, no tugging at her, no having to pry his little fingers from her calves.
It was clean and simple. Now all she had to do was kill three childless hours. Three blissful, carefree hours. She would go
shopping and…
But as she pulled out of the parking lot and into Johnston Street, it hit her. She was leaving her baby… to…
whom
?! She didn’t know these people. Not really. For all she knew, they could be paroled child molesters! Ax murderers! Just exactly
what did she know about these so-called teachers who called themselves Miss Lisa and Miss Cheryl? And even if they were as
good as Mother Goose, would they know what to do in a crisis? What if James choked? What if the other kids were mean to him?
What if he missed her?
Oh, there were high-operatic fears that she could scale like a lyric soprano.
And what would James make of being there? He would think she had abandoned him. Wouldn’t that be the assumption of a two-year-old?
Look around and Mom’s not there; ergo, she’s gone—forever.
Naturally, Andrea tried to prepare him. She told him about the school, she said it would be only for a little while, and then
she would be back. But did he really understand? He was too little.
She didn’t understand!
In this dark moment of woe, she turned to her mother. She called Bobbi on her cell phone, trying to hide
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