“Uncle Ty! Wake up!” They crawled all over him, their laughter floating across the yard and through the open back door.
He finally straightened up and unlatched the henhouse door. The girls crept in, hoping, Betsy knew, for little brown-and-white speckled treasures.
All at once, the water flowing from the faucet was scalding. No buildup, just a quick scorching. She slapped the handle, turning it to cold to stop the burning in her fingers. After a moment, she set it to warm and got to work, washing pots and loading the dishwasher.
A few minutes later, Ty led the girls back into the kitchen. They smelled of outside—evening heat, thick grass, fresh straw from the henhouse. A mixture of nature and childhood. Not her childhood, but someone else’s.
“Go ahead and show her,” Ty whispered to the girls. He patted them on the back, then turned to Betsy. “I’m going to jump in the shower. I’ll start their bathwater for you.” He headed up the staircase, peeling off his T-shirt as he went.
Addie and Walsh stood in front of Betsy, their hands behind their backs. She dried her hands on a dish towel, then bent down to their level. “You didn’t find anything interesting out there, did you?”
They beamed. “We did!” They pulled their arms from behind their backs and presented their treasures. Both of them held a single egg in careful hands.
“Can we save them so they’ll turn into chicks?” Addie asked. “We can keep them safe until it’s time for them to hatch.”
“I’m sure you would keep them very safe, but these eggs won’t turn into chicks. They’re for eating, not for babies.”
Walsh peered at her egg, shook it, and held it up to her ear. “No baby chicks?”
“Nope. No babies. Just food. But that’s an important job. Our hens help feed us.”
“I guess so,” Addie said. “Baby chicks would’ve been more fun though.”
They handed her the eggs before bounding up the steps. Betsy placed them in empty spaces in the egg carton in the fridge.
Commercials on TV always made bath time with kids look like the highlight of any parent’s day. Bubbles and giggles. Sweet smiles. Soapy hairdos. Maybe Betsy just wasn’t doing it right. The laughter and bubbles lasted for a few minutes, then things usually devolved into warfare.
“She splashed me!”
“That’s my cup!”
“I had the soap first!”
Tonight Betsy had one hand on Walsh’s shoulder and one on Addie’s to stop a splashing war when her phone rang behind her, high on a shelf so it wouldn’t get wet. “Okay, you two, freeze!”
The girls stared at each other, then dissolved into laughter. Crisis averted for the moment.
She swiped a damp lock of hair from her forehead and grabbed her phone. Jenna.
Not now.
The tension headache that had begun when she realized Walsh was nowhere to be found now throbbed in her temples, dull and persistent. She sat on the closed toilet and shut her eyes for a second. “What’s up?”
Addie looked up sharply from the tub where she’d been pouring water back and forth between two cups. Betsy smiled at her.
“Not much,” Jenna said. “I drove into town to pick up a few things at the drugstore. I’m on my way back for dinner now.”
“And things are okay?” She forced brightness into her voice.
“Yeah, yeah. Things are good. Really good, actually. I’m working hard and sending résumés out left and right.”
“Résumés. Wow.” Betsy realized then that a part of her hadn’t expected Jenna to follow through with her plan to change things up in her life. She thought this would be a good experience for Jenna but that she’d return to Nashville with the girls and pick right back up where she left off. “So you’re really doing this?”
“Trying to. Gregory has connections all over the country—and some are with big names in the industry. I just . . . I’m excited, Betsy. I mean, not much has happened yet, but the potential is there. Who knows where this could take me?”
“You? You mean you and the girls.”
“Of course. The three of us.”
“Because this isn’t all about you.” Betsy turned away from the girls so they couldn’t hear her words. As if they could hear over their own squealing anyway. “This trip of yours involves other people. Four of us, actually.”
“I know that. I—”
But Walsh and Addie began to kick their legs like mermaids, drowning out Jenna’s voice. Water splashed everywhere—the walls, the floor, Betsy.
“Girls. Please.” She grabbed a towel and wiped her arms and the front of the cabinet. “Give it a rest for just a second.”
“Oh, they’re in the bath?” Jenna asked. “Walsh gets so wired at bath time. You’ll have to make sure she’s calmed down before you put her to bed.”
“Thanks. I’ll make a note.” She struggled to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“I’m sorry. You’ve probably already figured that out. You’ve probably figured it all out by now.”
“Not really. I’m just winging it here. And I can’t . . . Look, I do want to talk to you and hear more about these plans . . .” She lowered her voice to a whisper, although with the girls busy playing yet another loud, splashy game, the whisper was unnecessary. “But this just isn’t the best time. It’s been a long day and they’re wet and riled up. I don’t want them to know—”
“It’s fine, I get it.”
“Unless you want to talk to them. They’d love that,” Betsy said as she wiped water off the wall with the damp towel. “I can hand them—”
“You know what? Let’s try it another night. Or tomorrow. They’re having fun and your phone will get wet . . .”
“Well, if you don’t . . . I mean, I can . . .” She exhaled hard, frustrated by feeling like she needed to convince her sister to talk to her own kids. She stuck her head out the door into the hallway. “Ty, could you come in here for a minute?”
Back in the bathroom, Addie’s eyes were focused on her.
“So is that it?” Betsy stayed by the door, her back partially
