Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“I heard you met your team the other day.” Dad led them to the dining room.
“Yes. It was a preseason dinner to meet the players and their families.” Kyle pulled out a chair for Josh.
“I can’t see,” Josh complained with his head barely peeking over the top of the table.
“Eve, get the phonebook and a few other books for him to sit on.” Mom nodded to me.
I grabbed a stack of books and set them on the chair.
“Eve,” Dad scolded, removing the top book before Kyle lifted Josh onto the pile.
It was an old family Bible bigger than the dictionary and phonebook beneath it.
“What? You always say God is here to lift us up no matter what we need. And Josh needs to reach his plate.”
“Amen, sister,” Grandma Bonnie added. She didn’t believe in God, but she said “Amen” just to poke at my dad.
“Excuse our daughter. She thinks she’s funny, but she’s not.” Dad handed Mom the Bible, and she replaced it with another book.
Kyle grinned. He thought I was funny.
“Kyle, this is my mom, Bonnie,” Mom said. “Mom, this is Fred’s younger brother and his son, Josh. They moved in next door.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs.?” Kyle’s implied question hung in the air.
“My husband died. I’m no longer a Mrs. anything. I’m just the old lady for whom everyone is waiting to die.”
“Mom!” My mom gasped.
Gabby and I laughed, but Kyle restrained his, just barely.
“It’s true. My granddaughters are the only ones who acknowledge my existence, except on Sundays when I get invited to dinner so Peter can ask God to save my wretched soul.”
“I’ll never stop praying for you,” Dad said, earning him an eye roll from Grandma Bonnie.
“My mother’s grossly exaggerating,” Mom said with no examples to back up her claim before everyone sat at the table.
I took Grandma Bonnie’s bag of yarn and set it aside and then helped her to a chair at the table.
Was I the favorite? For sure. She and my mom had a strained relationship because my mom preached (lectured) Grandma Bonnie about salvation and her lost soul bound for damnation if she didn’t hurry up and accept Christ as her savior before she died. Gabby was the second favorite, but she didn’t regularly visit Grandma Bonnie like I did, which was her loss. Grandma Bonnie was funny. She had the most entertaining stories, and I could tell her anything because she was a vault.
After prayer, Dad dove into all things football with Kyle, leaving the rest of us with little to say.
“You know you’re going to have recruiters watching Drew. He’s not only the best player in Devil’s Head; he’s arguably the best player in all of Missouri,” Dad said, wiping his mouth.
Kyle nodded. “I’m looking forward to seeing what he’s got.”
Gabby kicked my shin, and I narrowed my eyes at her. She needed to work on keeping my secrets without constantly reminding me that she was keeping them. Drew was a big secret.
“Well, he’s lucky to have you coach him. Did you girls know that Kyle played football at Iowa?” Dad eyed Gabby and me like it was our cue to be impressed.
I wasn’t ready to give Kyle that satisfaction, but Gabby took the bait.
“Wow. Were you a quarterback?” Her brown eyes widened.
Kyle sipped his water and nodded.
“Why didn’t you play in the NFL?” she asked.
“Not everyone who plays in college is good enough for the NFL.” Kyle chuckled.
“He who can, does; he who cannot, teaches,” I said.
“Eve, do you need to excuse yourself and spend a little time in your room, thinking about how you should behave around guests?” Dad warned.
“What?” I shrugged. “It’s not my quote.”
“No. It’s not. And if you can tell me who that quote belongs to, I’ll let you finish dinner with us. Otherwise, you can take the rest to your room.” Dad smiled because he knew I didn’t know the answer. “And don’t you dare help her,” he warned Grandma Bonnie.
With a long sigh, I tossed my napkin onto the table and mumbled, “I’m done anyway.”
“We’ll let you come back down for dessert,” Mom said. “Since you made the apple pie and the ice cream.”
“Gee, thanks.”
After more than a half hour in my room, staring at the ceiling, there was a knock at my door.
“What?” I said in my grumpiest tone.
The door creaked open.
“George Bernard Shaw.”
I sat up as Kyle stepped into my bedroom. My father was the only other guy who had ever been there.
He smiled. “You quoted George Bernard Shaw. But for the record, some of the greatest doers were also outstanding teachers: Einstein, Oppenheimer, Robert Frost …”
“I don’t think you can be in my room. My dad doesn’t allow it.”
Kyle picked up a trophy from my desk. “Well, I told him I would talk to you because, as a teacher and someone closer to your age, I might get through to you.”