Free A Daughter for Christmas by Margaret Daley Page A

for twenty minutes.”
    â€œDon’t Will and Sam need you or something?”
    â€œNo, I just checked on them, and they’re playing in Sam’s room.”
    Slouching against the kitchen table, her elbow on its top, Taylor settled her chin in her palm. “I can’t work with you standing over me.”
    Rachel thought of a Bible verse on patience and repeated it several times in her mind as she took the seat next to her daughter. “Is this better?”
    â€œNo. You don’t have to watch everything I do. I’m not a baby.”
    â€œFine.” Rachel rose. “I’ve got something I wanted to give you. I’ll go get it while you finish the problems.”
    When she halted at the entrance into the kitchen, she looked back to see Taylor staring out the window. Rachel bit her lower lip to keep from saying something. Homeschooling was going to take a long adjustment for her daughter.
    So far, in the first afternoon, Taylor had managed to avoid as much work as she could whine her way out of or come up with a reason not to do it. She got a drink—four times. Went to the restroom more than she ever had before in the span of three hours. Got caught texting several friends. And moaned about how hungry she was even after having a large ham and Swiss sandwich with a mound of chips only an hour before.
    With a deep sigh, Rachel retrieved the journal she’d bought for Taylor, checked on her sons, now in the den, and returned to the kitchen to find her daughter still staring at the window, dusk quickly evolving into darkness. “Hon, we’ve been invited to Max’s for pizza tonight. If you can’t get your work done, I’ll have to call him and tell him we can’t come.”
    â€œPizza,” Taylor murmured her favorite food and pulled her attention from the window to focus on the sheet in front of her. She sat up straighter and hunched over the paper, pencil in hand.
    Rachel hung back, not wanting to disturb Taylor as she worked first one problem then the next and finally the last equation.
    Taylor slammed down the pencil. “Done.”
    Rachel covered the area between them and placed the journal down in front of her daughter while Rachel took the math and checked the rest of the answers. “This is good. The only thing you need to do is refigure the last step in the first problem.” She put it down on the table and pointed to the one she was talking about.
    â€œJust mark it wrong and give me the grade.”
    â€œNo, I’m not grading you. If you get something wrong, you’ll fix it until it’s right. We don’t move ahead until you understand what we’re working on.”
    â€œOh, please, you expect me to do everything right. I can’t.”
    â€œYou will and can. Remember, you’ll determine how fast we move.”
    Taylor huffed and erased the numbers, then redid it. “There. Okay?”
    â€œGreat. I knew you could do it.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Taylor pointed to the journal.
    â€œI got you another journal. Before we start our lessons each day, I want you to write in this your thoughts aboutanything that happened the day before. You can show it to me or not. That will be your choice.”
    â€œIf you don’t grade it, what good is it?”
    â€œI want you to write for the pure joy of writing.”
    â€œThere’s nothing joyful about writing or reading.”
    â€œI thought you liked to write. You’ve gone through five journals in two years.”
    â€œI don’t like anything having to do with school.”
    â€œI hope I can change your mind.” If my patience lasts that long.
    Taylor rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to now, do I?”
    â€œNo, you can start tomorrow morning.”
    â€œWhen do we go to dinner?”
    Checking her watch, Rachel started for the den and the noise of arguing. “In half an hour.”
    Taylor passed her in the hall,