A Helping Hand

He had watched her for months. The longest he had ever watched anyone. He really thought that this was the one. He didn't look for anyone else. He had suppressed his urges. He didn't need any unnecessary attention. He knew the investigation had hit a dead end. It wasn't cold, but it had been put on a back burner. He made a mistake with the Chapman girl. It brought the FBI in. He thought she would be the one when he picked her up, and he wouldn't have to worry about anyone finding her. He was wrong. She was such a whiny little pain in the ass. All she did was cry, pray, and ask for her daddy. He couldn't even enjoy the sex because she just recited the rosary over and over.

Well, where was God when he was slitting her open and dumping her like trash in a dirty alley? That's why he liked Tracie. She wasn't a churchgoer. She was a lovely girl who would do anything to help someone. He thought that would be a great woman to have. She would care for him. She would make him happy and love him like a good girl should. She was young, and he could keep her until she learned to love him. Oh, he liked her. He watched her. He followed her. He knew so much about her, her likes and dislikes, what she feared, where she felt most comfortable, and who her friends were.

He liked watching her when she went to bars. He loved watching her put a bottle of beer to her lips. Sometimes, she would pause and laugh at something said; then she would wrap her supple lips around the mouth of the long neck. Her laugh made others laugh. He loved her laugh. At night, he would lie in bed and watch her. He would hear her laugh in his head. Hear her voice the one time she talked to him. She was great at telling stories. People were drawn to her. They wanted to be near her. He craved to be in her presence.

He watched her as she loaded groceries into the car of a young woman dragging four rambunctious boys and a baby on her hip. Her hair was wild, and she looked tired.

She had crossed paths with her several times in the store's aisles. She heard the boys far before she saw their mother. Their names were Austin, Jacob, Riley, and Peter. She knew this because she had heard the mother say to them every three minutes.

He was going to keep her, for a while at least. She was going to love him, serve him, and call him master. She would pay attention to him as much as she does to any other stranger. That's why he craved love and attention.

Tracie only had a couple of things in her cart. She put them back and left the cart. She went to find the mother of Austin, Riley, Peter, Jacob, and the baby in a bulky car seat.

It didn't take long. All she had to do was follow the screams of little boys, things bouncing off the ground, and the sound of a woman in agony. She saw the woman in the cleaning supplies. A bottle of lemon cleaner spilled on the floor, and the sound of dozens of cans hitting the floor came from the next aisle.

Her eyes welled up with tears. She saw the young girl approaching her. "I am so sorry. I know the boys are making a ruckus, and the last thing I want is for them to disturb anyone."

"Oh. No. That's not it at all. Sometimes, we forget how we were when we were kids. I know you don't know me from Adam, but you need help. If it's not too forward, I would like to help you if I'm not overstepping my bounds," Tracie said.

The mother looked at her. Of course, she wanted help, but she didn't want to put the young girl out and pull her away from her shopping.

"I'm helping you even if you say no, so you might as well just say yes. It will save us the time you spend debating me," she said. "My name is Tracie."

"My name is Michelle," she said with a sigh.

"Michelle, do me a favor and call your boys over."

"My boys? Are you sure?"

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"Okay, it's your last nerve," she said.

"Austin! Riley! Jacob! Peter, please come here."

The pounding of eight little feet filled the isles. The boys came to a screeching halt in front of the cart.

"Yeah, Mom, what's up? Austin knocked the cans over. It wasn't me," said Peter.

"Narc! Snitches get stitches, Peter!"

Austin pushed Peter and knocked him onto the shelf.

"Do you have a list, Michelle?" she asked.

"List? Yes, I do," she said, pulling the list out of the corner of the car seat.

Tracie stepped out of the aisle and into the midway, looking at the large signs hanging from the ceiling.

"Boys, I'm Miss Tracie, and I have a very special mission for you to accomplish if you think you can. The last kids failed miserably because they were arguing and pushing each other. I had to remove them from their mission."

The boys looked at each other with skepticism. Then they stood beside each other in a straight line like four little soldiers.

"I need you on your best behavior. If we do not complete this mission, there will be no ice cream."

The boys looked terrified. "Yes,, Ma'am," Peter said, and he gave her a little salute.

"Not just anyone can complete this mission. But I see you boys are ready and able, like G.I. Joe."

"Yes, Miss Tracie," they said in unison.

"I will give you an assignment. You are to walk slowly and quietly so as not to be detected. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Tracie," the boys said.

"I need you to line up, Oldest to youngest."

The boys lined up. Peter, Austin, Riley, and Jacob.

"Now, who can read?" she asked.

They all raised their hands.

"Jacob, you can't read," Riley said.

"I know my letters!" he said.

"Hmmm, so you're good at picture identification?" Tracie asked. "I need someone who can identify pictures."

"I know my letters, colors, and shapes," Jacob said.

Tracie rubbed her chin. "Good, good. You are exactly what I am looking for."

The man watched her, and he was excited by what he saw. She was brilliant—very smart.

"Jacob, your mission is in aisle 3. You are to get a bag of bread. It will have W, red, yellow, and blue circles. Do you understand your mission?"

"Yes, I do." He walked off swiftly and quietly.

Miss Tracie looked at the three boys. "Riley, aisle 3, strawberry jelly, code name Smucker's. Got it"

"Yes, Ma'am." He left with a salute.

"Peter, you must go into the cold temperatures of the ice cream section. Can you do this, or do I send Austin?" she asked.

"No, I am up for the task." I will not let you down."

"I need Cookies and Cream, 16 ounces, code name Bryers."

He followed the other boys' lead and went quickly but silently.

"Now, Austin, you have a special job. You need to go to aisle 6. It's a dangerous aisle. There are chemicals everywhere. You must be very careful. Do you understand?" she asked.

He had a serious look on his face and nodded his head.

"There is a large green bottle, code name Gain detergent, not softener. Do not fail me."

He left to work on his mission.

"Oh my God, that was amazing, Tracie," Michelle said.

"They just needed something to do. Something that makes them proud to help you. They will help. It's how you do it. I will do the rest of the list. Just watch for next time. Start the narrative in the car on the way over. That will keep the noise level down, too."

The boys completed the entire list except for the vegetables. They said those were bombs and wouldn't take the risk.

"I have never gotten out of here in less than 2 hours. I can't believe it went so fast."

Michelle had tears running down her cheeks, but not from exhaustion or frustration; they were from appreciation—appreciation of a young woman who took the time out of her day to help her and teach her a little something. She smiled at Tracie and mouthed the words, "Thank you." Tracie tipped her head.

"Boys, to complete the mission, we need to put our things on the checkout counter to be scanned to ensure you have successfully found the items we needed. Then, we will take the items to the carrier vehicle so they can arrive at their destination. Your mom will take over the mission from there. Understand? She is your leader now. I have made it so. Got it, recruits?"

"YES, MISS TRACIE!" they said all together.

"Then let's go."

They went to the checkout line. Tracie told them to each put the item they had retrieved on the mission. If they couldn't reach it, the commander, code name MOM, would give it to them.

The boys came to the vegetables. "I am not afraid," Peter said.

He picked up each vegetable as it would explode and laid it gently on the belt.

When the cart was loaded, they walked out with it. Tracie had told them to walk next to it to protect it from possible attack. The boys walked slowly and methodically.

"Where is our transport vehicle?" Tracie asked.

The boys pointed to a gray SUV. Tracie nodded her head.

When they arrived at the car, Tracie told them to "mount up." After she explained what she meant to four confused faces, they each got in their seats. Austin even helped Jacob buckle his seat belt.

"Nice job, Austin."

"No man left behind, right," Austin said with a smile.

While Michelle returned the baby seat to the car, Tracie loaded the groceries into the trunk. She closed the trunk, and Michelle came around. She hugged Tracie so hard she thought she would pop like a balloon.

"I can't ever thank you enough for what you have done for me today. I can never repay you."

"Pay it forward. Maybe you can give her your secret weapon the next time you see a struggling mom."

Tracie went to the door to say one last thing to her soldiers.

"Men, you have served me well. Make sure you are quiet on your way home. You do not want to set off the bombs. Remember your commander, the code name MOM, who will give you further instructions. Listen to her. I am now relieved of my duties. Be good because one day I may arrive for a surprise inspection. Understand, troops?"

"YES MISS TRACIE!" they said.

"Oh, and be kind to your sister. She is the future of the regimen." she smiled and closed the door.

As they drove off, Tracie stood there smiling. She felt so proud of herself, and warmth spread through her. She made a difference in someone's life today. The future looked good for her. She couldn't wait to tell her mom that her degree in child psychology paid off.

She walked to her car and unlocked it with her key fob. Before getting to the door, she realized she had neglected her mission and never did her shopping. I should have had the boys do it.

She needed to call her mother. She sighed, took the cart she had just emptied, and returned to the store.