Along with everyone else, Waller triplets awaiting answers

STE. GENEVIEVE, Mo. -- It's a sunny, late-summer morning and the 5-year-old Waller triplets are goofing off.

Addison, the high-spirited redhead, is riding her bike outside. Avery, the blond who likes to dance and wear sunglasses, is offering a quick tour of the room she shares with her sister, annoying her aunt with the music cranked up.

Maddox, the only boy, is just coming off a fever but still has the energy for a Popsicle and playing with Tank, the snorting English bulldog that all the children have grown to adore.

At first glance, their world seems typical.

They're excited about their first day of kindergarten the next day -- all except Maddox, who is ambivalent. They bicker, play video games and watch SpongeBob. They've spent much of the summer swimming, playing with friends or deciding between a PlayStation Portable or jumping on the bed.

It seems an ideal setting for a child, but one thing is noticeably absent -- their parents.

Their mother, Jacque Waller, has been missing since June 1. Their father, Clay Waller, is in the custody of the Cape Girardeau County Jail. As has been well documented, Clay is the only one police have considered a person of interest in Jacque's disappearance. Investigators suspect foul play but have stopped short of calling Clay a suspect.

Clay Waller has been in jail since July 29 on stealing and harassment charges, though police say his arrest has nothing to do with Jacque's disappearance.

But the children don't know any of this. To them, their father is just as missing as their mother.

They just know that they haven't seen their mommy or daddy in quite some time.

In the meantime, they continue to live with Jacque's sister, Cheryl Brenneke, at her home in rural Ste. Genevieve, along a winding country road. They have their own rooms that were decorated by Jacque in the months they lived there since March, when their parents formally separated.

If you ask the children where their mother is, you might get one of two answers.

"In heaven," they sometimes say.

"Gone, but she's coming back," they say at other times.

Jacque had rented a house in Farmington. When that was mentioned last week, Avery chimes in: "We're going to go there when Mommy gets back."

Brenneke's 4-year-old grandson came over to play recently. He told the triplets -- who are referred to affectionately as "the trips" -- that their mother was never coming back.

The girls responded defiantly: "Yes she is!"

But other times they seem more resigned to what most seem to believe -- that she will never be seen alive again. The children put it in simpler terms, saying that she's in heaven.

"They just go back and forth," Brenneke said last week. "They really do. One minute they say that 'Mommy's in heaven," and the next minute they ask, 'When will she be back?'"

But Brenneke thinks they know what she suspects, that Jacque isn't coming back.

"They know in their hearts," Brenneke said. "They know how much she loved them. She was their everything. She did everything for these children. She did it with such ease. Those children know she wouldn't just walk away. ... That's how they justify that Mommy's in heaven."

Brenneke said the topic of their father comes up, but rarely.

The questions about Clay mainly come from Maddox, a boy asking about his father.

"Where is my daddy?" he'll ask.

Brenneke tells the boy that she doesn't know.

Brenneke says they never talks poorly about Clay to the children, though Jacque's family believes he is responsible for Jacque's disappearance.

"You know, Aunt Cheryl," Maddox will say, "I have to see my daddy sometime."

She responds with a sigh: "I know, buddy."

The Brennekes, Cheryl and her husband Bob, are technically the children's foster parents. Police used threats Clay made against Jacque that were found on her computer as means to get an order of protection against Clay, forbidding him to see his children.

In July, a judge granted the Brennekes another 90 days of custody. Cheryl Brenneke said last week they intend to adopt the children as their own.

Besides, she said, it is what Jacque wanted.

Brenneke remembers a conversation she had with her sister shortly after the triplets were born.

"If anything ever happens to me, I want you to raise those kids," Jacque said, according to Brenneke.

Brenneke said that it was understood by all that she would raise the children, not their father.

"It wasn't even a question," Brenneke said. "Everybody knew I would have them. We love those kids with everything we've got. They're like our own. We'll just do it. There's no other option."

Clay Waller sees another option, according to his attorney, Scott Reynolds. Reynolds said Saturday that Clay's ultimate goal is to be reunited with his children. It's the natural order of things, especially for a man who's innocent as Clay has maintained, Reynolds said.

"He's the natural father of the children, so I'd think his rights would supersede anybody's except the mother's," Reynolds said. "He loves his children. Not that the Brennekes don't love the children. It's obvious they do. But as their father, he should be entitled to custody before anybody else in the world."

Clay asks about his children often, Reynolds said, and is working hard to be freed in order to see them again.

"He has every intention of clearing his name and he has every intention of getting his children back," Reynolds said.

And just as Jacque's family loved the children, so does Clay's family. They miss the children and have a relationship with the children.

Reynolds said Clay Waller's family members do not want to comment publicly.

Being separated from his children has taken its toll on Clay, Reynolds said.

"That's part of the added stress Clay is going through," Reynolds said. "I can't get specific, but it has had a negative effect on him."

As the future of the children seems in limbo, they will go to school. Perhaps worry. They attend counseling once a week. They ask questions about their parents. No one is sure when they'll get answers.

But Brenneke says the children are doing fine, considering.

"They're good, well-adjusted kids," Brenneke said. "They are doing well or better than other kids would."

One of Brenneke's main goals is to keep the memory of their mother alive.

"That's what kills me more than anything," she said. "I can't stand the thought of them forgetting her because she was so fantastic. ... It breaks my heart."

smoyers@semissourian.com

388-3642

Pertinent address:

Ste. Genevieve, MO