Betty Edwards raised two children and retired after 30 years as a schoolteacher, so she knows what hard work feels like. Her husband died about a decade ago, so she knows what loss feels like, too.

Those experiences were like practice exercises for the blow she was dealt this fall.

On Sept. 10, a grim-faced police officer arrived at Edwards' Severna Park home with the news that her 34-year-old daughter - her beautiful, only girl - had been strangled. The same day, the father of her three granddaughters was charged with first-degree murder in her daughter's death.

A teen-ager, a kindergartner and a toddler were suddenly without parents. Edwards quickly accepted the assignment.

Since then, the 65-year-old grandmother has had to call upon the lessons of her long teaching career to bring order and a sense of normality to a household drastically changed. She approaches each day with her sweat shirt sleeves pushed up around her elbows and her wire-rim glasses planted firmly across the bridge of her nose.

She has had little time to grieve. Most days, she is a walking to-do list.

"Homework first ... dinner will start at 4 ... I didn't have time to put the wash in, so we'll see when I get to that," she mumbled to herself on a recent Tuesday, all the while tidying the kitchen.

Between chores and homework assignments comes her toughest job. She is helping her grandchildren cope with the loss of both parents - Paula Lynn Edwards is gone forever, and Howard Alexander Jr., 33, has been in jail since the day the body was found.

All three children have their father's last name, and the older two know that he has been charged in the death of their mother.

"It's not an easy thing from day to day, trying to understand how anybody could claim that they love their children and do something like that to their mother," Edwards said, sounding frustrated. A beat later, her tone changed. "We all have our moments. We're just trying to cope."

Two days passed between Paula Edwards' disappearance from a nail salon and the discovery of her body in a wooded area in Edgewater. During that time, 15-year-old Monica asked her father, who has a history of drug and assault convictions, whether he had seen her mother, who was trying to end the couple's on-again, off-again relationship. He said he hadn't.

"I'm still upset about it," the teen-ager said recently, referring to that conversation with her father - the last she has had with him.

Despite their grief, this church-going family tries not to let anger overwhelm them.

"I'm not really mad because the Bible says, 'Vengeance is mine, said the Lord,'" said Edwards, who has attended Mount Moriah African Methodist Episcopal Church in Annapolis since her children were babies. (Her other child, Brian Edwards, 29, lives near Poughkeepsie, N.Y.)

'Tears start flowing'

Paula Edwards was 5 years old when she cut the ribbon marking Mount Moriah's move to Bay Ridge Avenue. Three decades later, in the same building, her 10th-grade daughter would erupt with grief at the news that she had been killed.

Monica had suppressed her feelings - perhaps for her younger sisters' benefit - until one Sunday last month, when Edwards said the teen-ager "just let the tears start flowing."

"We let her cry and cry," she said. "It was good to see her let it out."

Five-year-old Micayla saw her father led away in handcuffs on television at a friend's house, and she has a general sense of what has happened, Edwards said.

The mix of past and present tense in Micayla's homework shows that the little girl is still coming to grips with the death of her mother. It reads:

"This is my mommy Paula Edwards. She loves me. Mommy was a bus driver. She used to bring kids to Jones Elementary School. She was a pretty person. Lots of people loved her and her beautiful smile."

Mia, who turned 2 this month, does not realize what has happened. She clings to her grandmother and cheers up people with her bright smile - it "looks just like Paula's," Edwards said.

Days at the family's home can seem unending, and sometimes they are - with one day's unfinished chores and homework assignments and tender hugs spilling into the next.

Edwards has lived in a trilevel home on Old County Road since the 1960s. Keeping it orderly is no small task.

As Betty Edwards straightens the kitchen, Mia plods down the stairs with an orange smile on her face and a trail of cheese doodles behind her.

Although "Mi-Mi," a toddling ball of energy and clutter, leaves a bit of a mess wherever she goes, she is fiercely determined to please her grandmother.

It takes only a sharp stare and a stern finger-shaking to send the little one to the floor to gather whatever she has dropped. (She even shuts the cupboard door after throwing away garbage.)

When illness strikes, the family's home can look a bit like a day care center's playroom.

One recent Monday, a feverish Micayla stayed home from her morning kindergarten class at nearby Jones Elementary School. Her younger sister also had a high temperature.

But resting, particularly for Edwards, was out of the question.

Never still for more than a minute, Mia and Micayla decided to play Simon Says.

"Simon says put your hand on your head," Micayla said. With a triumphant smile, Mia plopped both hands atop her head.

"No. One hand. Like this," Micayla said as she tried to pry a hand off Mia's head.

Betty, who had sunk into a nearby chair to watch the girls, suggested: "How about 'Simon Says take a nap'?"

Busy days at home

A typical day in this household begins at 6 a.m. and ends - if Edwards is lucky - at 11 p.m. She wakes early to shake Monica from her sleep and make sure the teen gets on the bus to Severna Park High School.

Edwards' next move is to bathe and dress Micayla for kindergarten. At five minutes to 9, a neighbor drops by to walk Micayla to school.

While Micayla is in class, Edwards spends time with Mia, whom she is still toilet-training. At noon, the two take a short walk to get the kindergartner.

Mia always greets her big sister with a huge smile and a bear hug. "It's as if she hasn't seen her in years," Edwards said.

Back at home, Mia tries to emulate her big sister - to the point of scribbling her own "homework" assignments when Edwards and Micayla are working together.

"She thinks she's in school, too," Edwards said.

It seems that Edwards' life has always revolved around education.

She taught at an all-black school in 1966 and after desegregation transferred to Edgewater Elementary, where she taught third grade until retiring in 1991.

Her husband, N. Jerome Edwards, once an assistant principal at Old Mill High School, died the next year.

Teachers and parents from Edwards' teaching days have helped her and her grandchildren through the past few months.

"It wasn't just a day or two of people being kind," Edwards said. "People are still here supporting us."

Several fund-raisers have helped the family buy food, clothes and Christmas presents, and a trust fund has been set up for the girls.

Edwards said she expects that support to remain with the family throughout the legal proceedings and beyond.

"I really don't know if I even want to be there," she said of Alexander's trial, which has not been scheduled. "I just hope that whatever happens is fair. I want justice to be served."

Maureen Gillmer, director of victim and witness services for the Anne Arundel County state's attorney's office and the advocate assigned to support the family, said Edwards and her grandchildren can expect to have feelings of ambivalence about Alexander.

"On the one hand they want to seek accountability, but parts of them have some underlying sympathy," she said. "It's very confusing for people to know where to put their feelings."

For now, Edwards and the girls are taking it day by busy day.

"After working with children for 30 years, it's homework again," Edwards said.

But she isn't complaining. "My girls are my life now, just as my children were."

Donations

Donations for Betty Edwards' grandchildren can be sent to: Farmers Bank of Maryland

The Edwards Children Trust Fund

559 Baltimore-Annapolis Blvd.

Severna Park 21146