Page 12 of Finders Keepers

My cheeks begin to pink, knowing she’s picked up on more than I’ve told her. “How do you always seem to know exactly what someone needs to hear?” I ask looking down at my plate.

“Oh honey,” her eyes twinkle behind her glasses. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn that everyone’s carrying something. The trick is remembering that no one has to carry it alone.” She taps the side of her nose.

Sophie straightens up in her seat. “I can help carry things. I’m strong, right mama?”

“You sure are baby.” I say giving her a smile.

After dinner, I insist on helping with cleanup, despite Ms. Lucy’s protests.

In the kitchen, Ms. Lucy hands me a checkered dish towel. “That’s quite the artist you’ve got there.”

I peek around the doorframe into the living room where Sophie sits cross-legged on the floor, her coloring book spread before her. The tune she hums catches my ear—“You Are My Sunshine”—the same lullaby I’ve sung to her every night since she was born. My heart squeezes watching her concentrate on staying in the lines.

“She loves to draw.” I take a warm plate from her sudsy hands. “Sometimes I think she’d color all day if I let her.”

“And she’s smart as a whip, and those manners! You’ve done well with her mama.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, focusing intently on drying a plate. “She’s everything to me.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “You know, honey, I’ve seen a lot of things in my lifetime, helped a lot of people through rough patches.” She pauses her washing to look at me directly. “Whatever brought you here, whatever you’re running from, you don’t have to tell me now. But when you’re ready to talk, I’m here to listen. No judgment, just an old woman with open ears and an open heart.”

I blink back sudden tears, overwhelmed by her kindness. “I… thank you, Ms. Lucy. That means more than you know.”

She gives me a gentle smile. “Now then, let’s finish these dishes and see what masterpiece your little artist has created. I expect whatever portrait she’s colored will need a place of honor on my refrigerator.”

I laugh softly, grateful for her ability to sense when to push and when to pull back and as we finish the dishes.

The dishes done; we gather our things to head back to the tiny house. Sophie places her drawing onto the kitchen countertop, a colorful scene of horses that Ms. Lucy insisted was “refrigerator-worthy art.”

“Now, let me walk you ladies home,” she says, pulling a heavy-duty flashlight from a drawer. “These country nights get darker than most folks expect.”

“You don’t have to trouble yourself,” I start to say, but she’s already slipping on a light cardigan.

“Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all.”

Sophie slips her small hand into mine as we step outside. The night air carries a slight breeze, and above us, stars scatter across the sky in numbers I never saw back in Oklahoma.

“Look, Mama. So many stars!” Sophie points upward, her eyes wide with wonder.

“That’s what happens when you get away from all those city lights, Lil Bit,” Ms. Lucy says, clicking on her flashlight.

I blink as a beam brighter than I expected cuts through the darkness. It’s practically industrial-strength, illuminating the entire driveway down to our little house with startling clarity.

“Good grief, Ms. Lucy,” I say despite myself. “Is that a flashlight or a portable sun?”

She chuckles, sweeping the beam across the property. “When you get to be my age, you don’t mess around with inadequate lighting. I bought this after I took a tumble over my work boots two winters ago. Could’ve spotted them from space with this beauty.”

“Aliens can see us from outside space.” Sophie quietly giggles.

“Lord, please don’t invite them,” Ms. Lucy says with mock seriousness. “My guest house is already occupied, and I don’t think those aliens would appreciate my chicken pot pie.”

The absurdity of it makes me laugh, really laugh, for what feels like the first time in months. The sound surprises me, rising up from somewhere I thought had gone dormant.

“There it is,” Ms. Lucy says softly, giving me a sideways glance. “That’s a sound I hope to hear more often around here.”

I feel my shoulders relax as we continue down the path, the brilliant light making shadows impossible. It strikes me that perhaps that’s what Ms. Lucy does—she brings so much light that the darkness has nowhere to hide.

Inside the tiny home, Sophie clutches Mr. Hoppy, as I help her into her pajamas. I tuck them both in. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

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