Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“What are you thinking about?” Cricket asks.
“If I told you, you’d laugh.”
“Try me.”
I settle back in my chair. “Okay. I was wondering what living a normal life looks like.”
“What?” She smiles but doesn’t laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I’ve tiptoed around for months, waiting for the sky to fall at any minute. I’m just now feeling like it might be okay to breathe. If I put roots down and take a step forward, maybe the world won’t slam my hopes in my face.”
“Oh, honey.” She grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “This last year must’ve been just awful for you.”
“You know, I’ve had that thought every day for months. ‘This is awful.’ Over and over. But maybe thinking that kept me there, if that makes sense. When Reverend Smith started the sermon, he began with a passage about forgetting former things and not dwelling on the past. And my mind just took off.”
She smiles.
“Scottie said something to me yesterday, too, that’s been gnawing on me. I’ve been waiting for Dylan to change his behavior. But maybe I’m keeping him from doing that because I’m not changing mine.” I turn to face her. “Maybe I need to start going forward for him to know it’s safe.”
“I love that.”
Me too.
We sit quietly, watching the butterflies. Carter comes out and dribbles his basketball up and down the sidewalk. His tongue sticking out the side of his mouth makes Cricket and me laugh.
“I’m going to go inside for a minute,” Cricket says. “Do you need me to bring you a drink when I return?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
She stands and goes back into the house.
I take out my phone and scroll through social media. I’m midcomment on a friend from Boston’s post when a text buzzes.
Hey, it’s Della. I got your number from Cricket.
My fingers shuffle over the keys.
Me: Hey.
Della: Do you have plans for Friday night?
Me: No.
Della: Great. Let’s go out and have some drinks.
I read her text again. “Let’s go out and have some drinks.” When was the last time I went out on a Friday night?
“What’s wrong?” Cricket asks, taking her seat.
“Della just asked if I wanted to go for drinks on Friday night.”
“Well, it would be memorable. I’ll promise you that.”
I smile at her. “Should I go?”
“You’ve been saying you want to put a step forward. Here’s your chance.” She flicks a piece of dust off her armrest. “I’ll keep an eye on the boys. Peter will be gone golfing for the weekend, so it’ll give me something to do.”
“Would you want to come with us?”
She laughs loudly. “With Della? No, ma’am. I’m a happily married woman and want to keep it that way.”
I laugh, too, and text Della back.
Me: Let’s do it!
Della: I’ll confirm the time with you later.
Me: Sounds great.
“Is she really as wild as you say she is?” I ask, setting my phone on the edge of a plant stand.
She considers this. “Yes and no. She did have two very burly-looking gentlemen leaving her house within five minutes of each other. And I have heard tales of her, another couple, caramel sauce, and a blow dryer.”
“Really?”
She shrugs.
“Mom!” Carter’s little voice echoes down the street. “Mom!”
I look up to find my son running down the sidewalk with his ball tucked under his arm. Another little boy runs alongside him.
“Mom! Can I go to the park with Hayes?” he asks, dragging in a breath. “Please?”
“My mom is going too,” Hayes says, pointing to a lady coming up the sidewalk, pushing a stroller. “See? That’s her.”
Carter bounces up and down. “Please?”
“Let me talk to Hayes’s mom first,” I say.
The boys accompany me, one kid attached to either side, to the woman, as if I might lose my way.
“I’m Freya,” she says, grinning.
“Hi. I’m Gabby. I wanted to say thank you for keeping an eye on Carter the other day. My son Dylan said he met you and gave Carter permission to go with you.”
“I hope that’s okay.”
I smile. “Of course. I just didn’t want you to think I was a bad mom. We’d never met before, and my little boy just traipses off with you to the park.”
She laughs. “I make it a habit never to judge moms. I know how hard it is. Besides, Dylan was very polite and got my name.”
He did? He didn’t share it with me.
“And I saw Jay Stetson working on your deck,” she says. “I thought if you had a problem with me taking Carter, Jay could assure you I’m not a childnapper.”
“Yes, he did mention that he knew you and your husband.”
Freya gives the baby in the stroller a pacifier. “We need to get moving, or my little lovebug in here will start screaming like she has for the last five hours.” She laughs. “The joys of motherhood.”
“Good luck.”
“I’ll just drop Carter off as we walk by in an hour or so,” she says.