had to believe he'd be happy someday.
"Is there any way I can help, other than being a nagging mother?"
She caught the slight grin and felt rewarded.
"I guess I'm used to the nagging, so you'd better keep it up. It was awfully quiet around here when you weren't acting like yourself."
Sharon's heart hurt at the image his words evoked. Two grief stricken boys who'd had no one to turn to. She'd never let them down again. Sharon kissed his cheek before she stood, leaving the pizza on the coffee table.
On the way upstairs, she heard the sound of aluminum foil ripping.
Joseph asked Serena to halt his assignment. Serena refused.
"It might be easier if I could tap into the Knowledge now and then." He felt an unfamiliar surge of irritation. What was happening to him? He was all mixed up and felt that he'd lost all sense of direction.
"You know it's forbidden when a guardian has face-to-face contact with the humans. You already have an unfair advantage."
Joseph frowned. "And how's that?" He certainly didn't feel as if he were any wiser, smarter, stronger...
Serena was silent for a long moment while Joseph waited. Finally, she spoke. "You don't have complete forgetfulness like they do. In essence, they're traveling blind."
Joseph thought about her words. "It hurts, Serena." At the moment, he felt that forgetfulness would be a blessing.
"I know, Joseph, but it'll all be clear when the right time comes."
He had to accept her word, but admitted to himself he was beginning to have grave doubts.
Thanksgiving vacation finally arrived. Sharon and the boys managed to pack the small car with their luggage, then squeeze themselves in for the trip.
"I think we brought enough for three weeks instead of three days," she grumbled.
The only saving factor was that it wasn't too far to the McIver place in Haden Lake, about an hour and a half drive.
Sharon had thought of asking Joe to join them since he didn't have any family in Hollow Bend, but somehow it didn't seem the proper thing to do.
She wondered if he'd spend the holidays alone. He hadn't mentioned any plans.
Sometimes, he seemed terribly lonely and they'd never talked about his family. When she asked, he simply changed the subject. Was he hiding something?
They passed harvested fields, rocky hills, an occasional deer searching for food. Sharon loved the beauty of Idaho and couldn't imagine living anywhere else. She was glad, though, that a typical winter snowstorm hadn't yet hit the area.
It was wonderful to see her folks. Her mother wore the ever-present apron and sensible shoes, her wispy hair pulled back into a bun. Bea hugged Sharon with a bone-crushing embrace as Harry waited his turn.
Sharon smiled warmly at her diminutive dad. He'd always reminded her of a leprechaun, at least her image of one.
She'd begun the business of living again, just as her parents hoped she would. Harry sniffed loudly when she hugged him, and Sharon clung to his wiry frame a little longer. He was using the same woodsy pipe tobacco she remembered.
"Just look at my handsome grandsons," Bea said. "You must have to fight the girls off with baseball bats."
"Not quite, Grandma," Luke said with a grin, "but almost."
David tapped his brother playfully. "Don't you wish, little brother."
"Let's get inside," their grandmother said, "unless you boys want to bring the suitcases in first." She shivered from the cold.
The mountain peaks in the distance were covered in white.
Sharon tossed the keys to David, and he opened the trunk. "Might as well."
"How are you managing, dear?" her mother asked when they found a moment alone. Sharon gazed at the plump gray-haired woman with the bright blue eyes. She knew her mother needed reassurances of her adjustment.
"I've got the boys, Mom, and now the job. We'll be all right...eventually." She paused as her voice broke.
"Is there any way I can help, other than being a nagging mother?"
She caught the slight grin and felt rewarded.
"I guess I'm used to the nagging, so you'd better keep it up. It was awfully quiet around here when you weren't acting like yourself."
Sharon's heart hurt at the image his words evoked. Two grief stricken boys who'd had no one to turn to. She'd never let them down again. Sharon kissed his cheek before she stood, leaving the pizza on the coffee table.
On the way upstairs, she heard the sound of aluminum foil ripping.
Joseph asked Serena to halt his assignment. Serena refused.
"It might be easier if I could tap into the Knowledge now and then." He felt an unfamiliar surge of irritation. What was happening to him? He was all mixed up and felt that he'd lost all sense of direction.
"You know it's forbidden when a guardian has face-to-face contact with the humans. You already have an unfair advantage."
Joseph frowned. "And how's that?" He certainly didn't feel as if he were any wiser, smarter, stronger...
Serena was silent for a long moment while Joseph waited. Finally, she spoke. "You don't have complete forgetfulness like they do. In essence, they're traveling blind."
Joseph thought about her words. "It hurts, Serena." At the moment, he felt that forgetfulness would be a blessing.
"I know, Joseph, but it'll all be clear when the right time comes."
He had to accept her word, but admitted to himself he was beginning to have grave doubts.
Thanksgiving vacation finally arrived. Sharon and the boys managed to pack the small car with their luggage, then squeeze themselves in for the trip.
"I think we brought enough for three weeks instead of three days," she grumbled.
The only saving factor was that it wasn't too far to the McIver place in Haden Lake, about an hour and a half drive.
Sharon had thought of asking Joe to join them since he didn't have any family in Hollow Bend, but somehow it didn't seem the proper thing to do.
She wondered if he'd spend the holidays alone. He hadn't mentioned any plans.
Sometimes, he seemed terribly lonely and they'd never talked about his family. When she asked, he simply changed the subject. Was he hiding something?
They passed harvested fields, rocky hills, an occasional deer searching for food. Sharon loved the beauty of Idaho and couldn't imagine living anywhere else. She was glad, though, that a typical winter snowstorm hadn't yet hit the area.
It was wonderful to see her folks. Her mother wore the ever-present apron and sensible shoes, her wispy hair pulled back into a bun. Bea hugged Sharon with a bone-crushing embrace as Harry waited his turn.
Sharon smiled warmly at her diminutive dad. He'd always reminded her of a leprechaun, at least her image of one.
She'd begun the business of living again, just as her parents hoped she would. Harry sniffed loudly when she hugged him, and Sharon clung to his wiry frame a little longer. He was using the same woodsy pipe tobacco she remembered.
"Just look at my handsome grandsons," Bea said. "You must have to fight the girls off with baseball bats."
"Not quite, Grandma," Luke said with a grin, "but almost."
David tapped his brother playfully. "Don't you wish, little brother."
"Let's get inside," their grandmother said, "unless you boys want to bring the suitcases in first." She shivered from the cold.
The mountain peaks in the distance were covered in white.
Sharon tossed the keys to David, and he opened the trunk. "Might as well."
"How are you managing, dear?" her mother asked when they found a moment alone. Sharon gazed at the plump gray-haired woman with the bright blue eyes. She knew her mother needed reassurances of her adjustment.
"I've got the boys, Mom, and now the job. We'll be all right...eventually." She paused as her voice broke.
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