Page 98 of The Summer of ’98

“Wow,” I winced. “Blank.”

“Me too,” he laughed. “I’ll have to have a think about it.”

We kissed and then I went back out into the living area where Momma was still staring at the twins with contentment.

“Have you seen my . . . father again since he came into the store?” I asked, sitting down beside her.

“No,” she said. “He left his phone number, but I haven’t contacted him. It’s totally up to you what you do with that information, Ellie. I won’t try to control things like I’ve been guilty of in the past.”

I smiled at her and tucked my legs up under my bum. “I appreciate that. I’m not sure I’ll do anything, though. He’s a complete stranger, you know? Too little, too late.”

She didn’t say anything.

“I don’t know. I’ll need some time to think about it.”

“Of course.”

“It’s my birthday next weekend.”

Momma looked at me with an amused grin that felt so foreign on her features. “I know that.”

“Leroy’s family are flying in for a small birthday party. It won’t be much. Dinner, cake. That sort of thing. Do you want to come?”

“I’d like that very much, Ellie.”

We sat around our small dining room table that night, the twins swaddled in their bouncers. Leroy never let the conversation dwindle. He talked to Momma, asked her questions about the store, exchanged life stories and talk of the future. My heart felt full and suddenly Leroy’s riddle came back to me. I may only be given, but never bought, sinners seek me, but saints do not.

Forgiveness. The answer was forgiveness.

EPILOGUE

Leroy

Six months later

Ellie and I brought the twins home for the summer. It was their first time in Colorado and Mom and Dad were thriving, ecstatic at the attention they were able to bestow upon Drayton and Abby. Mom decorated the spare bedroom, turning it into a nursery with the cribs that Noah and I used as babies.

Out in the back garden, there was a large picnic blanket spread out on the grass. The twins were wriggling around, picking up toys that were scattered and gurgling with excitement. Both of them had wispy blond hair and eyes that were becoming greener the older they got. Green like their mother’s. I didn’t think that I could love anyone more than I loved Ellie, but these two had unlocked a part of my heart that I didn’t even know existed and I had never felt fuller.

“Ooh, isn’t he quick?” Mom said, watching Drayton commando crawl off the blanket, using just his arms and a wormlike shuffle. Ellie had dressed him in a sleeveless one-piece that morning—the weather was sweltering and he and Abby both had bucket hats tied to their heads. Abby was currently sprawled out on her back, tugging hers with frustration.

“Careful, Mom,” I said, pointing at Drayton. “That one is unpredictable.”

I was about to go get Drayton when Abby started sulking, frustrated that her hat wouldn’t come off. I pulled her into my lap.

“She’s such a daddy’s girl,” Ellie said, standing up. “I’ll grab Drayton.”

Mom watched Abby cuddling into me, yawning. We did have a special little bond happening, her and me. When she was unsettled, she wanted me to rock her to sleep, and when she was excited, her gaze fixed on me while she babbled and cooed. Of course, she loved Ellie too. Ellie was her mom who breastfed her and that connection with a mother was unique. But I felt sort of special knowing that my little girl often came to me when she needed some cuddles and comfort. Ellie came and sat back down, putting Drayton between her outstretched legs.

“These two will need their afternoon nap soon,” she said, shoving a bunch of toys in front of Drayton in an attempt to distract him from zooming off again. He was so adventurous and could move very well for someone who wasn’t yet crawling properly. It was a challenge, but I loved that about our son. I loved that he was so curious.

Dad rolled the little plastic football toy to Drayton, who picked it up and started gumming it. Everything went straight into his mouth these days.

“How many quarterbacks can we get in a row before the future generations break the cycle? Hmm?”

“Might even go to Baylor too,” I added, lightly jostling from side to side so that Abby could drift off. Her lids were hooded, and she was relaxed in my arms. “Could be a cool tradition.”

“Ah, imagine that,” Dad said, smiling. “A long line of Baylor graduates. That’d be a delight. Don’t suppose we’ll be around to see it, though.”

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