Page 76 of Changing Tides

It’s adorable.

I throw my hand over my heart. “Ouch.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Sorry for what?” I ask.

“That you’re old.”

I struggle to keep my laughter choked back as she places her elbows on the table in front of her and rests her chin on her balled-up fists.

“Thanks, kid. Now, let’s talk about this nap thing. Naps are amazing. Naps are the next best thing to snacks and toys.”

“No, they’re not. I’m not even sleepy in the daytime. I’m sleepy at dark.”

“Well, I bet if you tried lying down and closing your eyes, you’d find that your body is sleepy and can use a little rest even if you don’t think it is.”

She shakes her head. “I tried that yesterday. All I do is lie there and lie there and lie there. Then, if I finally do fall asleep, naptime is over, and she wakes me up and makes me mad, and I’m grumpy all the rest of the day. For no reason,” she states her case.

“Hmm, I see your dilemma. I get mad when people wake me up too.”

She lifts her head, and her arms shoot into the air. “So, we shouldn’t do the naps so I don’t get grumpy. See what I’m saying?”

“I do,” I agree.

Her eyes brighten. “Can you talk to Nana for me?”

“I can. Tell you what. Why don’t you and I have a seat on that porch swing, and I’ll tell you a story while we wait for her?”

She jumps up from her chair. “Okay.”

She sprints over to the swing, and I follow. I reach into my memory for an old bedtime story Gramps used to tell us kids at night as I gently push the swing with my foot.

Leia lays her head against my arm, completely enthralled in my take on pirates and hidden treasure. Before I get to the exciting part, I glance down and see that she is fast asleep.

Careful not to wake her, I slide off, take a pillow from one of the deck chairs, and place it under her head before I go in search of my grandmother.

I find her at the kitchen sink.

“Thank you for that,” she says, nodding toward the door that leads out to the deck with a clear line of sight to the swing. “She was in the pool all morning and could hardly keep her eyes open at lunch. I forgot how hard children fight sleep. You and Lennon were the worst,” she says, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

She leans her cheek in my direction, and I kiss it.

“Thank you for coming. I’ve been missing that face of yours,” she says.

“Sorry. Been busy,” I tell her.

“Is that the only reason you’ve been avoiding this house?” she asks.

“I haven’t been avoiding it. Your husband has been working us like dogs. If you have a complaint, file it with him.”

She hums under her breath. Something she does when she doesn’t believe you.

“Where’s this leak that couldn’t wait for Gramps to get home?”

“It’s over at the cottage,” she says.

“Avie’s place?”

---