“Okay, stop before she spews.” Amanda waved her hands above her head. “Whoa, it’s bedtime for you and Jesse. Get those teeth brushed and get in your jammies.”
“Mom?” Hailey had her puppy-dog eyes working overtime.
“Yes. You have to. There’s always tomorrow. I’ll be in there in a minute.” Amanda watched them leave, then turned to Paul.
He rubbed his hands together. “What a day! Thanks for letting me be part of it.”
“Are you kidding? You made it. Thank you for spending your time with us.”
“Could I come over one night next week and take them ghost crabbing?”
“It’s an actual thing?”
“Oh yeah. It’s fun. I’ll bring the headlamps, buckets, net, and shovels.”
“That’s quite an inventory. This sounds like an archaeological dig.”
“Nah. Way easier than that. It’ll be a blast.”
“You’re on.” She motioned toward the back door. “Want to help me tuck them in?”
His eyes lit up. “I’d love to.” He reached for her hand.
She peered at it with hesitation but placed hers in his. “Okay.” They walked inside together. There was an awkward do-si-do of sorts at the door, but she let him hold it for her and he followed her back to Jesse’s room.
“You two share bunk beds?” Paul walked over and pinched Hailey’s nose. “I loved the top bunk when I was growing up.”
“I have my own room,” Hailey said. “I just like being in here with Jesse. He needs me.”
“You are a very good sister.”
“I know. We can say our prayers without help.”
He nodded, crossing his arms in front of him. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Hailey started and Jesse stayed about a word behind her the whole time. “Now my lay me…”
Amanda had never had the heart to correct them. Hailey had always said it that way, and when Jesse learned it from her, it was too sweet to fix. Someday she’d tell them, when they had their own kids. Or maybe not.
“Sleep tight,” Paul said while backing out of the room. Amanda walked over and kissed each of them on the forehead. “I love you both so much. Happy dreams.”
She closed the door behind them.
“I will get out of your hair,” Paul whispered over his shoulder as he moved down the hallway. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime, Paul.” She followed him to the front door so she could lock up once he left.
When they got there, he turned and dropped a kiss right in the part of her hair, then squeezed her shoulders. He pushed the door open and jogged off.
When he got to the front gate, she noticed that it didn’t creak.
Did you fix that too?
“Thank you,” she whispered into the night. She watched him get into his truck, a great big four-wheel drive with a crew cab.
This was a different joy than she’d ever felt. With the house secured, she sat on the floor with Denali, absently stroking his thick skin. Am I crazy?
“What do you think?”
Denali lifted his head, snuffling and wheezing, then set his chin on her leg and groaned.
“I know. It’s exhausting to think about it.” She pushed the skin on his face forward, making all the wrinkles squish together, then placed her hands on both sides of his face like a face-lift. “You’re an old soul, aren’t you? You’ve been such a blessing to this family. Thank you for being such a good dog.” She scratched his ears, then got up and walked toward her room, stopping halfway to slap her thigh for Denali to follow her.
He lumbered forward, his rolls shifting as he walked.
She climbed into bed and sat there hugging her pillow to her chest. Tonight as she said her prayers, she added a few things to her list: frozen bananas, kites, bubbles, and Paul. Mostly Paul.
21
Overnight, things had cooled off, making this morning feel more like a spring day than the middle of July. Amanda walked out to the mailbox to collect the mail. The rusty frame had seen better days. She’d have to come up with a way to spruce it up. It might be a good family paint project. She reached inside and grabbed the stack of envelopes.
She lowered the stack to flip through them when a shock of color caught her attention, glinting at her feet. A shell about the size of a silver dollar lay there. It was nothing special, just a regular old clam shell. They were everywhere, but this particular one was almost purple. A natural pinkish band ran horizontal around it, kind of like a cross on top. She picked it up and rolled it over in her hand. The inside simply read,
Interrupt worry with gratitude.
The tiny letters curled in an imperfect way. She cupped the shell in her palm. The Bible said something about casting her worries on God. But when it came to actually releasing the worry, she was a big fat failure. Maybe the shell would help remind her to release her worry to God.
She slipped it into her pocket with hope.
Flipping through the envelopes, she meandered back toward the house. When she pushed the gate open, it didn’t make a sound. Not so much as a squeak? She remembered the absence of the creak last night when Paul left. She wiggled the gate back and forth. Sure enough, it was as quiet as if it were brand-new.
Hailey walked outside with Jesse in her wake. “Hey, Mom, what ya doing?”
“I was thinking.” She set the stack of envelopes on the picnic table outside. “What if we walk down the beach and go in the back way to Tug’s Diner today?”
Jesse marched around the picnic table. “We’re ready.”
“You two make me laugh.” She got up and marched alongside Jesse. “Let’s go, then.”
Hailey grabbed her shell-collecting bag and ran to catch up.
“We are so grateful for this beautiful day,” Amanda said, touching the shell in her pocket. “Right?” An attitude of gratitude was something she could help instill
