Strudel and Tristian met them at the curb. Strudel gave each child an enthusiastic slurping when they bent down to stroke his silky coat and Tristian reached over and brushed the tears from her cheeks after the children had gone.
“You told them you’ll be back?”
“Yes.” Lilly sniffed and leaned against his shoulder. “It’s just so hard to watch things change. It won’t be the same.”
“I didn’t see you complaining about change when they stopped putting honey in your shoes.”
Lilly punched his shoulder, barely rumpling his t-shirt. She gave up her brave front and simply buried her face in his chest. Tristian’s arms wrapped around her and she sighed. Two weeks until their baby was due, it was time.
She rested a hand on her belly to feel the gentle kicks. Change was still so hard. She had spent years becoming a good teacher, would she be as good a mother?
“You know, I’m thinking about taking that teaching position? It would give me more time out of the smoke and off the slopes. More time with the baby. You could sub sometimes, give me a chance to be Mr. Mom once in a while.”
Lilly’s head snapped up and she stared into his eyes, looking for the slightest twinkle to hint that he might be joking. “Really? I thought you needed the adrenaline rush for optimal brain health?”
“Oh, I do. I’m just worried that once he’s a toddler the adrenaline rushes will be too much for me at home. If he’s at all like me, we’ll be facing death-defying antics every day of the week. Did I ever tell you about that time I climbed the old pine in our back yard before I could even walk by using a leaning pile of apple boxes and a bunch of teddy bears?”
“Yes, several times.” Lilly tipped her chin up and Tristian pulled her into a kiss. “Perhaps he’ll be like me and we will require a collection of charts and graphs instead?”
“Perhaps.” Tristian kissed her again and then put the car into gear. “Surely it can’t be more hazardous than teaching twenty-six rampaging twelve-year-olds, or keeping you and Strudel alive on a four day backpacking trip.”
“Hey now, who exactly had the ice ax in his leg?” Lilly indicated the leg in question where they could have seen a deep purple scar snaking down the back if Tristian had not been seated.
Tristian grinned back at her and pulled the car out of the parking lot.
Strudel barked and bounded around in the backseat.
Lilly was certain he was taking her side. She turned back toward the school and waved to her students, who had lined up to see them off. Thank You, Lord. For each and every one of them. Even the ones with the honey and the gum and that permanent marker fight last year in the hallway. Your blessings are truly beyond calculation.
Strudel ceased his barking and curled up in what was left of Lilly’s lap.
Tristian slid his arm around her shoulder and they drove home. Home to a little log cabin with a ceiling-high shelf full of math books and five pairs of skis and a parachute in the garage. A house where a lamp post glowed soft and yellow to welcome them back even though it was situated dangerously close to the forest and possible squirrel attacks.
Gran’s Molasses Sugar Cookies
Ingredients
¾ cup shortening
1 cup sugar
¼ cup molasses
2 eggs
2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon allspice
Method
Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Soften shortening and stir in sugar and molasses. Let the shortening cool if it is hot after softening. Add eggs. Mix the dry ingredients in a separate bowl. Mix with the wet ingredients. Chill dough in refrigerator until malleable. (If you do not wish to wait for the dough to chill, simply drop spoonfulls of the dough into a bowl of sugar and moosh the sticky dough into a roughly ball-shaped glob that is of course covered in sugar.) Roll dough into one inch balls. Roll balls in sugar. Bake on a greased cookie sheet for ten minutes. Makes 2-3 dozen. Serve with a cup of warm tea and keep away from small dogs.
Author’s Note
When I was a young and hapless teen, hiking through Spider Meadow, up and over Spider Gap, and battling the swarming hordes of biting flies to make my way to Holden Village, there were ice caves on the near side of the Spider Gap glacier/snowfield. I have heard that they have since collapsed and it made me quite grateful that Ken (our youth leader) forbade exploration of those caves when we hiked through. I am told that some ice caves remain on the other side of the glacier, though. Ice caves are incredibly lovely and dangerous. People risk entering these massive cathedrals of ethereal blue light, and people are injured and sometimes die doing so. I just wanted to let the reader know that there were ice caves at one time where I depicted them, although they are now gone. I would also like to note that yes, a kid from our youth group did come on a trip with an army packboard, although I think they scrounged up something better for him. That my own youth leader stood at the edge of that two thousand foot cliff on one foot and posed for a picture. Yes, I still have that photo. And that there is indeed an old abandoned mine at the top of Spider Gap and as a teen I crawled inside it. This is fiction, however, and the real mine was unlikely to cause the havoc I have created for this book. The tunnel ended abruptly, without providing a place to hide a dramatic twelve-year-old from all searchers. But my version could be true…perhaps an earthquake created the additional, hard to reach, chamber…such is the beauty of fiction.
Acknowledgements
I want to thank Dan Martin for letting me use a story from his youth. That time he was walking behind someone, happily swinging a pick ax…yes, indeed, the injury depicted in this story is real.
Also, Ken Farmen, Susan Ells, and numerous other brave souls who took our youth group to so many fabulous places, even though we were young and foolish and prone to sleep running.
Thank you to everyone who has critiqued my writing (Sarah, Becca, Heather, Jill, Jon, Daryl, Janelle, Mom, Jenn, Rolana, and Johnnie Sue) and helped me learn and grow and get a teensy bit better with every slash of the red pen. Especially my critique partner Jenn who pours her heart into everything she reads and always seems to know exactly what is wrong. Thank you, Rolana, for all the writer’s conferences and walks and chats about pretend people and how to make sure that they are forced to face rampaging squirrels and frozen cats.
Thank you Mom and Johnnie Sue and Abby for being my biggest fans.
All this would never have happened without Daryl, my true love and the inspiration for every hero who might possibly get carried away and dump his date in the river after he offered to give her a piggyback ride across.
Thank you to my three amazing boys, who demanded their own copy of each book even though the stories have kissing. Who offer up ideas about how to make sure that every story has a concussion in it, and are inordinately pleased every time I include a dog.
Finally, to my Lord, for walking with me through the mountain peaks and the sudden hail storms and the quiet meadows full of wildflowers. For being the same, no matter the scenery and for giving me a story idea within a single day when my publisher called and asked me to write this book and I told her I had no idea what to write about.
Thank you…
for purchasing this Pure Amore imprint title. For other inspirational stories, please visit our on-line bookstore at www.pelicanbookgroup.com.
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May God’s glory shine through
>
this inspirational work of fiction.
AMDG
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