Forever with You. Farrah Rochon

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      What she’d anticipated to be a quick and easy project had turned into a quiz on deductive reasoning. Leslie lost track of how many times her eyes had darted between the creased instruction guide and the thick trunks of the two elms in her backyard. At one point she had seriously considered jogging over to that cute colonial on Willow Street and taking Sawyer up on his offer to help. But once she figured out the correct height—thus saving her butt from hitting the ground when she lay in it—it had been smooth sailing.

      She’d spent the past half hour gently swaying in her newly hung hammock while Cassidy and Kristi attempted to play tennis in the backyard. It wasn’t easy with Buster, the Yorkshire terrier Leslie had been bamboozled into adopting for the girls, stealing the tennis ball whenever she could get her little paws on it.

      “You have to be quicker than that,” Leslie called out to Kristi when the dog snagged the ball yet again. Her daughter plopped her hands on her bony hips and gave her a look that screamed Duh, Mom.

      Chuckling at their plight, Leslie went back to the novel she’d been reading for the past month. She remembered a time when she could get through a book in a week. These days she was lucky to find twenty free minutes a day to indulge in her old pastime.

      She’d become so engrossed in the book that it took her a while to realize that she had been steadily losing light. Leslie looked up through the branches overhead and noticed the ominous cloud directly above them.

      “Girls,” she called. “I think it’s time to go inside.”

      There was a low rumble, then a loud crack of thunder. Just like that, the sky opened up and a deluge of hot rain poured down. Cassidy and Kristi both squealed as they raced to the back porch. Leslie swung the hammock to the right and tried to climb out, but it flipped over before she could steady herself, planting her right on the ground.

      She groaned.

      That was her, graceful as a swan.

      By the time she made it to the back porch she was soaked. Kristi and Cassidy both pointed and laughed like a couple of hyenas.

      “Well, thanks a lot,” Leslie said. She wrung out her soaked shirt and flung the water at them. They both squealed again, jumping away from her. Buster scurried around the porch, trying to become a part of the game.

      “Let’s get in the house,” Leslie said. “I’m starving.”

      Kristi pointed and giggled. “And wet.”

      “Oh, yeah?” Leslie wrapped her arms around her daughter, making sure to get her good and soaked with the dampness from her shirt.

      After slipping the casserole she’d made before church into the oven, she, Cassidy and Kristi all took showers and changed into pajamas. It might not have been proper in some households to eat Sunday supper in pajamas, but it certainly was in this one.

      As per their Sunday evening ritual, Leslie lifted the dry-erase calendar from the refrigerator and set it on the table. She wiped away the previous week’s tasks and, handing the attached whiteboard marker to Cassidy, went through the schedule for the upcoming week.

      “Don’t forget Parent/Teacher Conference night,” Cassidy said. “We get an extra star in English if our parents come.”

      The notion of bribing kids with stars in order to get parents involved in their children’s school life was abhorrent, but Leslie knew it was also necessary. After all, just a year ago she had been one of those parents who routinely skipped school activities due to work obligations. Until she’d learned the price her absence had cost her daughters. These days she practically had her own designated parking spot at the school.

      “I’ll be there,” Leslie assured Cassidy. She pointed at the whiteboard. “Make sure you have the correct times for softball practice. You don’t want to be late again. And circle the Bayou Campers meeting so we don’t forget.”

      Yeah, she had all the time in the world to be lonely.

      Once dinner was done and the dishes loaded into the dishwasher, they settled in for their Sunday night movie. It was Kristi’s turn to pick, which meant either Casper the Friendly Ghost or The Lion King. Leslie snuggled on the couch with her girls and watched Casper for the hundredth time. Once the movie was done, she declared bedtime, ushering the girls off the couch.

      “It’s Sunday night,” Kristi reminded her. “We get a Daddy story.”

      Leslie ruffled Kristi’s natural curls and smiled down at her, praying she was doing a good job of hiding her discomfort.

      After going nearly a year hardly uttering her deceased husband’s name, Leslie had slowly started reintroducing Braylon’s memory into her family. It had been more difficult than she’d anticipated, but every Sunday night she shared with the girls a story about their father.

      Seated on the edge of Cass’s canopy bed, Leslie cradled Kristi on her lap, rubbing her hand up and down her baby’s arms.

      “Have I told you girls about the time your daddy tried to bake me a cake for my birthday?” Both girls shook their heads. “Well, your father was pretty good when it came to cooking hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill, but when it came to baking, he was horrible. He knew that I loved strawberry shortcake—”

      “I love strawberry shortcake, too,” Kristi interrupted.

      “I know.” Leslie tweaked her nose. “You get it from me. Your dad tried to make me a strawberry shortcake for my birthday once, but he couldn’t find fresh strawberries so he used frozen ones. However, he didn’t let them thaw out before serving me my piece of cake, so when I bit into the frozen strawberry, I hurt my tooth and had to go to the dentist to get it fixed.”

      Kristi plopped a hand to her forehead and moaned. “Oh, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”

      “Did the cake at least taste good?” Cassidy asked.

      “I told him it did.”

      “Because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings,” Kristi guessed correctly.

      “Yes,” Leslie said. “But I made sure to order birthday cakes from the bakery every year after that. Aren’t you girls happy I did?”

      “Can I get a strawberry shortcake when I turn six?” Kristi asked.

      “That’s a year away,” Cass pointed out.

      “Wait. I meant tomorrow. Can I get a strawberry shortcake tomorrow?”

      “Nice try.” Leslie playfully tugged her curl.

      She gave Cassidy a kiss and then carried Kristi to her bedroom. As Leslie tucked her in, Kristi put a hand on her cheek and said, “Thank you for tonight’s story, Mommy. I like hearing stories about you and Daddy.”

      Emotion thickened in her throat. “I’m happy you’re enjoying them,” she said. “I know your daddy wishes he could be here to tell you stories, too.”

      She kissed Kristi’s palm and then her forehead. Even though there was a night-light, Leslie left a crack in the door.

      She made her way across the hall to her СКАЧАТЬ