Page 45 of Love in Riverbend
My heart beats too fast as I stare at his reply. Instead of answering, I look over toward the house. In the dimming sunlight of the dusk sky, Mom, Dad, and Molly are in the yard playing wiffle ball. Ever since Molly watched Uncle Justin play softball, she’s been obsessed.
I laugh as my dad slows and Molly runs after him with the ball. Opening the car door, I yell, “You’re out!”
“Mommy,” Molly says as she drops the ball and runs toward me. “Did you see me get Granddad out?”
Reaching down, I pick her up. She’s taller every day, yet I want to hold her.
Wrapping her legs around my waist, she looks at me with her daddy’s eyes. “Did you see?”
“I did.”
Mom looks at her watch. “I was worried. Was there a problem at the store?”
“Very busy,” I say, letting Molly’s feet reach the ground. “The festival traffic has started. I got some good news.”
Dad looks my way and asks, “The store?”
My smile grows. “He’s going to sign it over.” I do a little jump. “It’s really mine.”
Mom comes my way and wraps me in a hug. “Praise the Lord.” Her eyes narrow. “Who gave you the news?”
“Dax.”
“You spoke to him?” Dad asks.
I nod. “I’ll tell you more after someone goes to bed.”
Dad grins at me. “It’s good to see you smile.”
Running to the wiffle ball, I pick it up and ask, “May I play?”
Molly giggles as she runs to the bat.
The four of us play what could best be described as Molly wins until the sky darkens and the mosquitoes come out to feast. Once inside the house, I take my daughter upstairs for a bath before bed. By the time I’m lying in her bed beside her, I ask her the question I’ve wanted to ask since Dax told me that he spoke with Molly.
As I finish the story about a hungry caterpillar, Molly yawns. I turn her way, look into her golden eyes, and kiss her nose. “I love you.”
She reaches for my cheeks with her little hands and kisses my nose. “Love you more.”
When her hands lower, I ask, “Did you meet a man at the diner yesterday?”
She nods. “He was nice. His name is Dex.”
“Dax,” I say with a grin.
“Yeah, Dax.”
Her eyelids are heavy.
“Dax is an old friend of mine,” I say. “He wants to have ice cream with us tomorrow.”
“Okay. I like ice cream.” She rolls to her side. “Good night, Momma.” Her eyes flutter until they stay closed.
Life is so simple when you’re five.
Quietly, I get out of Molly’s bed, turn off the light, and close her door to a crack. It’s my turn to shower. When I’m finished, my wet hair combed out and my pajamas on, I go downstairs. The windows are open and there’s a nice autumn breeze. Dad is in the living room watching a Cardinals baseball game, and Mom is sitting at the kitchen table with a book.
Hearing my footsteps, Mom sticks a receipt in the book and puts it down. She smiles at me.
