Despite the circumstances, I enjoy my evening with my baby sister. When she begs to watch Frozen 2, I grant my permission as long as she promises not to give me any lip when I wake her early for church tomorrow.
“You mean this?” She fingers her lip, trying to be funny. “Why would I do that, anyway? I like going to church with you. Can we walk?”
“If it’s not too cold,” I say, hugging her tiny body close to mine.
Jazz keeps an extra set of everything at my cottage. I love seeing her small clothes hanging next to mine in the closet. After helping her brush her teeth and put on her nightgown, I read to her from the stack of children’s books beside the bed. I wait until I’m certain she’s asleep before turning out the light and leaving the room.
I brew a cup of lavender tea, and wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, I call Jack. When I tell him why Jazz ran away, he reiterates what Cecily said earlier. “You’ve given Naomi ample opportunity to prove herself. She won’t change, Stella. She’s rotten to the core. When are you going to do something about her?”
“As soon as I figure out a plan.”
“I know you’re worried, baby. Do you want me to come over?”
“Thanks, but no. I already feel guilty enough for being in your bed when I should have been here for Jazz.”
“Don’t you dare go there, Stella. Our time together this afternoon was the first in weeks.”
He’s right. I’d promised we’d spend more time together after the party, and today was the first opportunity I found. “I enjoyed our time together, by the way.” I nestle under the blanket, thinking back on our few brief hours of bliss.
“Me too. Are you feeling better about us, about our future together?”
Torn is what I feel. Being alone with Jack today reminded me of how good we are together. But Jazz running away is evidence of my unsettled life.
“Can I do it again to be sure?” I ask in a teasing tone.
“Yeah, baby! Are you free tomorrow afternoon?”
“I will make time for you.”
“Is Jazz spending the night?”
“Yes. I told Naomi to pick her up after church. Do you think I should buy Jazz a cell phone?”
“Is she old enough to know how to charge it?”
“Kids these days are smarter than we are about electronics. I’ve been thinking about getting her a basic phone, like a flip phone without all the bells and whistles, to use in case of emergencies.”
“After what happened tonight, I think that’s an excellent idea.”
I haven’t officially joined a church in Hope Springs. Most Sundays I attend chapel at Jefferson College, but when Jazz accompanies me, we go to Hope Springs Episcopal, a small stone church on Main Street. Although she’s disappointed when I insist on driving to church, Jazz talks through breakfast and in the car about which of her friends will be at Sunday school today.
Grabbing a coffee from the fellowship hall, I sit in on a Bible study with a group of my peers. An hour later, I’m waiting outside of the classroom when Jazz emerges from Sunday school. When I lead her toward the parking lot, she says, “Aren’t we going to church?”
“Not today, kiddo.” I feel guilty for making her miss. To the best of my knowledge, Naomi never takes her to church. “We need to run an errand before your mommy picks you up.”
We drive out to the cell phone store on the outskirts of town. When I tell her why we’re here, she drags me over to the display of iPhones. “Can I have a smart phone? Pretty please.”
“Not hardly, kiddo. This phone is only for you to use in an emergency. I hope it never happens again, but if you ever feel like running away, call me and I’ll come get you. You’re not allowed to leave your house alone until you’re twenty years old. Understood?”
Jazz gives me an exaggerated eye roll. “Twenty? Give me a break.”
I rub my knuckles on top of her head. “You give me a break.”
The salesclerk shows us our options, and I choose the simplest of the two. She’s patient in explaining to Jazz not only how to charge the phone but the importance of keeping it charged.
Thirty minutes later, we’re on our way back to the inn. “Let’s keep this between us, okay, kiddo? I’m not sure how your mommy will feel about you having a phone.”
“I won’t tell her. Promise.” Jazz stuffs the phone in her coat pocket.
“I don’t like doing anything behind your mom’s back, but I want you to be able to reach me if you need me.”
“K. I get it. Can we go for brunch, now?
“Sure! Why not?” I haven’t heard from Naomi. Why race back to the inn on her account? “Where do you want to go?”
Jazz has several favorite restaurants on Main Street, but she surprises me when she says, “Jameson’s.”
“Jameson’s is fine with me, but are you sure you don’t want to eat at Lucky’s or Town Tavern?”
“Nope. I wanna go to Jameson’s. Cecily’s making me chocolate chip Mickey Mouse pancakes.”
“Oh, I see. You and Cecily schemed this brunch.”
Jazz gives me a sheepish grin. “Maybe.”
I park my car at the cottage, and we walk over to the veranda. Betsy, the hostess, greets us with a smile and seats us at my favorite table alongside the railing. She hands me a menu and places several sheets of plain paper and a basket of crayons in front of Jazz.
Bruce, one of my favorite waiters, arrives with a carafe of coffee, filling my cup to the brim. He bows to Jazz, and in a formal voice says, “And what can I get for you, miss?”
Jazz giggles. “Orange juice, please.”
The sky is clear and the sun bright. The air is chilly, but the space heaters provide plenty of warmth. We beat the church crowd, but within a few minutes, the veranda and the
