CHAPTER1
Emalee
Slam!
Thunk.
From my spot near the grand staircase, I could easily envision Iain rushing into the kitchen and dropping his backpack on the table while he grabbed the lunch box I’d already put together for him. Seconds later, there was the scrape of a chair dragging across the floor, followed by an “ouch.”
I shook my head. No matter how many times I reminded him to slow down, it went in one ear and out the other.
“There’s nothing quiet about that child.” Mama grinned, not really perturbed. She adored her grandson, energy and all.
A short time later, my little man stomped to a halt at the reception desk where my mom and I were going over the week’s schedule. He dropped his backpack and looked at me with troubled green eyes. I already knew what was coming. It was Monday, after all.
“I don’t wanna go to school,” he grumbled.
“What’s the reason this time?”
“Cause Tommy Lee is a liar. He said we were going to have snow today, and I wanted to go snowbilling with Uncle Chase, but there’s no snow, and Mrs. Grimbly said if it’s too cold, we can’t go outside, and we were supposed to have a kickball game, and you know I’m good at it.”
He finally paused for a breath, then took a step and swung his leg like he was kicking a ball.
“Youdolook like you have a powerful kick. But,” I crossed my arms and waited until he looked at me, his expression dismal as if he expected I was going to announce the cancellation of Christmas, “it’s not supposed to snow until tonight, so maybe you’ll get lucky and be able to go snow-mo-biling with Chase tomorrow. So, that means school for you,andMrs. Grimbly is a good teacher, but you can’t blame her for not wanting to just stand outside in these temps while you guys run around. I know that’s disappointing, but spring will be here soon.”
He crossed his arms and glared at his backpack as if it were the reason for his current woes. “I hate winter,” he muttered under his breath.
I ignored him, knowing it wasn’t true. I grabbed his coat and gloves that I already had waiting for him and held them out so he could shove his arms into the sleeves. Squatting, I zipped him up and tapped him on the nose with my finger. “Sorry, mister. I know you’re disappointed.”
“School stinks.”
“Wow. The day just started, and you’re at two negatives. You owe me a positive.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Come on. You know the rule.”
“Fine.” Somehow, he made it sound like I had tortured an answer out of him. “Uncle Chase said next time it snowed he’d take me snow-mo-biling.”
“That seems like cheating since you mentioned it earlier, but I’ll let it go this time. Now, my turn. How do you fix a pumpkin?”
Iain shrugged, doing his best to look disinterested in my little game, but I knew he wouldn’t walk away without the answer.
“With a pumpkin patch!” He rolled his eyes again, but at least it wasn’t nearly as exaggerated, and his lips lifted a bit at the corners.
My job was done. He’d turned his attitude around and would hopefully have a good day. Iain was a naturally happy boy most of the time, but he loved to be outside. Our weather had taken a nosedive into the frigid temps just after we’d thawed out the week before.
I knew it was impossible for him to never have a bad day, but after everything I’d been through, I wanted my son to always at least try to find something to be grateful for because small blessings were abundant if you looked for them.
Whenever one of us had a bad day, we could pout or fret for a short time, then we had to tell the other something good that happened, no matter how small. Then I always tried to lighten the mood with a joke. Usually, it happened closer to homework time. I hoped this meant he’d gotten it out of his system early, but I had a feeling I should go find another riddle just in case.
I held my arms out for a hug. “I love you, kiddo.”
“Love you, too, Mama.”
He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders while my mother put on her coat to take him to school. It was part of the pattern we’d fallen into—she helped me with Iain while I took on the more physical aspects of upgrading and taking care of The Dogtrot. She moved slower than she used to, and stairs were much harder for her. But she could still drive, and most importantly, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her grandson or for me. We were alike in that. There had been a lot of darkness six years ago, but Iain was the bright light that pulled us all through it.
“Let’s go, monkey,” Mama said to Iain, who started to stomp off again until I cleared my throat. His head rolled on his shoulders, but he adjusted his steps.
