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)
“No,” she says, setting the glass in the sink. “I made a pineapple upside-down cake instead.”
“Oh. I thought we talked about a sheet cake?”
“We did. But I changed the menu, and a sheet cake didn’t go with our entrée, dear.” She gives him a forced smile and turns to me. “Would you like a piece of cake?”
“I would!” Carter races into the room, sliding the last few feet in his socks. “I love cake.”
I tousle his hair. “Don’t run in the house, Carter.”
He leans his head back and smiles wide.
“So, what’s it like to be back in Alden, Gabby?” Peter asks.
“We love it,” Carter says. “Don’t we, Mom?”
He takes a slice of cake from Cricket.
“Sit at the table in the dining room with that,” I say.
Peter grins as Carter holds the cake like a prize while walking to the dining room. “He’s a cute kid. I remember when Kyle was that little. Feels like yesterday.” He stands tall. “Speaking of the devil . . .”
Kyle walks in, looking like the spitting image of his father. He wraps an arm around my neck in a faux headlock. “Some of my friends are going to play ball at the rec center. Can I go?”
“Be back before it gets too late,” Cricket says. “You have school tomorrow.”
“For goodness’ sake, Cricket. The boy’s sixteen. Let him live a little.”
She whips around with the cake server in her hand. “I know how old he is, Peter. I was there when he was born.”
“I’ll be back by eight.” Kyle lets me go. Then he steps between them, kissing his mother on the cheek. “Dinner was great.”
“Thank you.”
“Bye, Gabby,” Kyle says.
“Goodbye.”
He knuckle-bumps his father, and Peter follows him out of the room.
Cricket’s cheeks are flushed the same color of red as her apron.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask, moving closer to her.
She drops the server on the plate with a bit more force than necessary. “Yes. I’m fine. Just aggravated.”
“Mom, can I go with Kyle?” Dylan stands in the doorway. Uncertainty is clear on his face. “He asked me to.”
“Sure. Have fun.”
He nods warily and disappears around the corner.
Cricket removes her apron and tosses it on the counter.
“It’s none of my business, and I don’t want to pry,” I say carefully. “But I’m here to listen if you need to talk about anything.”
“I’m fine, Gabby. But thank you for the sweet offer.”
The fire in her eyes tells me she’s not fine. But it also warns me not to poke.
A loud crack rumbles through the air, garnering an eye roll from Cricket.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Kyle’s truck.”
“Oh. That is a little . . .”
“Obnoxious?” she offers. “I loathe it. It’s so tacky. But Peter took him to get the . . . whatever parts to make it sound like that. So what can I say?”
The look on her face tells me she’s probably said a lot about it. And was completely ignored.
“That’s one good thing about being a single parent,” I say. “There’s no one to argue with or to trump me. I am the final say.”
“So what did you think of Della and Scottie?” Cricket asks, her voice an octave higher than usual. “Della can be a little forward, and Scottie a touch dramatic. But they’re very sweet.”
“I thought they were great. They both seem like they could be a lot of fun.”
“They can be fun, all right.” She glances toward the sound of Peter’s voice in the living room. “Would you like to sit outside on the patio? It’s a beautiful evening.”
“I’d love to.”
The sun is warm as we sit on the wicker chairs facing Bittersweet Court. A butterfly flutters around the flower bed between the patio and the road. It moves happily from plant to plant, as if it has no care in the world. Wouldn’t that be nice?
I spent most of Reverend Smith’s sermon early this morning pondering my life and elbowing Dylan to keep him awake. Seeing so many friendly, familiar faces when we walked in gave me energy. Sitting in the pew where our grandmother and my mother once sat was inspiring.
I come from a long line of women who are strong. Fierce. Who made it through the Great Depression, divorce, miscarriages, house fires, and more. They suffered, yet their resilience, grit, and determination drove them forward. They kept moving. And somewhere between the sermon and “Amazing Grace,” I realized I’m in that group too. I made it. I just need to keep moving forward.
But just because you’ve made it to the other side of the fire doesn’t mean life returns to the way it was before. Once you’ve been through the flames, you’re burned. Those scars never totally heal.
What will my life look like now that I’m on the other side? It’s been so long since I was in life mode, not survival mode, that I’m not even sure.