“Are you still with me, Jeannette?” Amusement underscored Charley’s friendly tease.
“Sorry. I zoned out for a minute. Everything you said makes sense—in theory.”
“In practice too.” He adjusted the brim of his cap and motioned toward a mottled silver-white harbor seal sunning itself on a rock offshore. “I see Casper has joined us.”
Her lips twitched as the seal let out a loud belch. “Another friend of yours?”
“We’re acquainted.” He turned back to her. “I’ll offer one other thought. God’s timing isn’t always ours. Sometimes he opens doors we aren’t certain we’re ready to walk through. And it’s fine to be cautious. Not every door that beckons is divinely inspired. But at some point we do have to make a decision—because most don’t stay open forever.” He pressed the storm-tossed key into her hand. “A souvenir of the walk we shared.”
“But you found it.”
“Some treasures are meant to be passed on. Are you going any farther?” He motioned to the vast empty beach ahead.
“No. I have to get ready for tea.”
“In that case, I’ll leave you here.” A ray of light broke through the dark clouds overhead, and he lifted his face to the heavens. “It appears you’re going to get your wish. Sunny skies are ahead.” He touched the brim of his Ducks cap. “See you again soon, Jeannette. Have a wonderful day.”
She stayed where she was for another minute or two as Charley wandered down the beach, then pivoted and slowly retraced her route.
Everything the man had said rang true—and life without love was becoming lonelier by the day.
But how did you change course midstream?
How did you know if the door opening before you was the one you were supposed to walk through?
How did you banish fear?
If only God would write those answers in the sky for her.
Since that wasn’t how he operated, however, she’d have to seek guidance through prayer—and hopefully he’d give her some direction soon.
For Charley was right.
Doors didn’t stay open forever.
He was not looking forward to the rest of his Sunday morning.
As Logan pulled out of the parking spot in front of the Shabos’ apartment and Elisa and Mariam waved them off, he glanced in the rearview mirror.
Molly watched the two figures recede, nose pressed to the glass.
“Did you have fun?” He accelerated toward 101.
“Uh-huh.”
“What did you do?”
“Played.”
“What did you play?”
“Games.”
He blew out a breath.
This sounded like a replay of their conversation from weeks ago, during Mariam’s early days watching the girls at his house.
The taciturn Molly was back—and the news he had to share wasn’t likely to change that.
In fact, it could exacerbate the situation.
A depressing thought if ever there was one.
His attempts at conversation on the short drive to church earned him more monosyllable answers.
Likewise on the drive home after the service, until he finally gave up.
But once they pulled into the driveway and he was taking off her seat restraints, he set the stage for the conversation they had to have. “Let’s sit on the porch steps for a few minutes.”
“I want to say hi to Toby.”
“Okay. You can do that first. But don’t open the cage just yet.” He helped her out of the car and snagged her small overnight bag from the back seat.
“Why do you want to sit on the porch?” She squinted at him.
“Why not? The sun came out, and I have a cinnamon roll we can share.”
“From Sweet Dreams?”
“Yes.” He unlocked the back door of the house.
“I like those.”
“I know.” Even if the roll from last night hadn’t initially been intended for her.
Toby greeted them with an indignant howl as they entered the kitchen.
He cringed.
Thank goodness Thomma was about done with his fence training. In another day or two, the beagle should be able to stay outside with no supervision, where he could cavort and dig and chase birds to his heart’s content. No more leash—except on their trips through Jeannette’s lavender plants to the beach.
And Thomma had also managed to get the random barking under control. The beagle only yapped these days if he had a reason.
Like being confined in his cage.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Molly raced down the hall.
A few moments later, Toby’s howls morphed to plaintive whines that almost sounded like “let me out, let me out.”
But he could wait a few more minutes. Having the inquisitive beagle underfoot while he talked to Molly about Button would be too distracting.
Tamping down his nerves, he nuked the roll, poured Molly a glass of milk, and went out to the porch. Hard as he’d tried to psyche himself up for everything from stoic silence to a meltdown, who knew how she was going to react to the news of the kitten’s demise?
But he was about to find out.
The door opened and closed behind him, and he scooted over to make room for her.
She chose the step above him instead, which ended up working better. It put them closer to eye level.
He held out the plate with the cut-up roll. After she took a piece, he set the plate down.
“Don’t you want some?”
“Sure.” He took a piece and forced himself to bite into it, but the sweet confection didn’t tickle his taste buds as usual.
Too bad he hadn’t brought out some water to keep the roll from sticking in his throat.
“What’s wrong?”
He shifted sideways.
Molly was watching him, trepidation sharpening her features. She’d only taken a tiny nibble of her cinnamon roll. The bulk of it had been squeezed flat in her fingers.
More evidence of her keen ability to pick up moods.
And now that she was tuned in to his wavelength, there was no sense delaying the task before him.
“While you were at the Shabos’, I went over to see Jeannette.”
“Did Button die?”
At the solemn, out-of-the-blue question, he blinked.
How in the world had she figured that out?
And how was he supposed to respond?
Just tell her the truth, West. What other choice is there?
He took a fortifying breath. “Yes, he did. Jeannette took good care of him, but kittens that tiny aren’t very strong yet. There are all kinds of reasons why they get sick.”
“Where is he?”
“I buried him in the back.” He motioned toward the rear of their yard, beyond the electric fence line. Out of Toby’s digging range.
“Can I see?”
“Yes. I was going to take you back after we talked.”
She set her mashed roll back on the plate and stood.
Apparently they were done talking.
Maybe they could continue the discussion in the yard, though.
Side by side, they trekked to the tiny grave in silence.
Once they reached the flat stone he’d laid on top, Molly squatted to touch it. “We should put his name here.”
“I agree.” He dropped to one knee beside her. “Why don’t we do it together?”