shoulders stiffened. “We were playing jungle, and Sweetums is the tiger—”
Like wisps of smoke from a campfire, anger wove its way through Anne’s gut, spiraling into her chest, her face, tightening her jaw until she spoke between clenched teeth. “Faith Adelle, what did I tell you about being careful of your new dress?”
Silence met the question. Faith looked down at the ground, but it was plain to see there wasn’t any remorse on her features. Just pure, unadulterated stubbornness.
Anne crossed her arms. Everything was ruined. She’d wanted this to be such a special moment.
Why, Lord? Why, this one time, couldn’t Faith be good?
She glared at her daughter. “Go to your room, Faith.”
Her head came up. “But we’re going to have a tea party—”
She pointed inside. “To … your … room.”
Faith’s chin jutted out. Shoulders high, she marched past Anne, the very image of a wounded princess. As she stomped by, Anne caught her muttered words.
“Don’t care. Tiger catchers don’t even
like
tea.”
Hours later, Anne stood in the doorway to her daughter’s room, watching the even lift and fall of Faith’s small chest as she slept. Slow steps carried Anne to Faith’s bed, and she eased down on the edge, careful not to wake her sleeping child.
She sat there, silent, watching…
Why, God? Why does anger last for a moment, while the regret it brings lasts for an eternity?
If only she’d kept her temper in check. If only she’d been able to take the unexpected in stride and not let it ruin everything.
Anne stroked Faith’s soft hair, smoothing it away from her sleep-flushed cheek.
She’d wasted so much time and energy on anger today. She’d simmered all afternoon, waiting for Jared to come home so she could complain to someone. But the oddest thing happened. When she finished telling him her tale of woe, pacingback and forth the whole time she spoke, she turned, expecting to see sympathy on his face.
Instead, she caught her husband fighting laughter. “Sweetums …
ran
?”
Anne stared at him. “Well … yes.” She blinked. “Sort of … I mean, it was kind of a
rolling
run.”
Jared gave up the fight. A grin danced across his features even as his chuckle slid free.
Anne crossed her arms over her chest. She was
not
going to give in. She was angry, doggone it, and had every right to be! She arched her brows at him. “You certainly couldn’t blame the poor creature. I thought Faith was going to squash him.”
“I didn’t think that monster’s legs worked.”
Anne couldn’t help it. Her lips twitched. “I know.”
“And Faith managed to pin him down? Good grief, he weighs almost as much as she does.”
Her husband’s humor was as infectious as a case of the measles. The anger Anne had nursed all day dissipated, leaving a swell of giggles in its place. She pushed at his arm. “Jared, be serious.”
“I’m
always
serious.”
She lowered herself into the chair beside him, giving him a sideways look. “Seriously demented, maybe.”
His hand flew to his chest. “I’m wounded!”
“Hmm.”
Leaning his elbows on the table, he rested his chin in his hands. “Come on, Annie. Admit it. You’ve never even seen the beast walk on his own.”
She held her hands up. “Okay, okay, I admit it.”
He sat back, nodding. “See there? Our little girl wasn’t tormenting the critter; she was working a miracle on him!”
“Ohhh,
you
!”
Anne smiled anew at the exchange. Then her smile faded. She brushed Faith’s bangs away from her forehead, blinking back sudden tears.
Why, Lord? Why can’t I see things the way Jared does? Why can’t I find the humor in life’s little crises?
When she thought about it later, after talking with Jared, after her hurt and anger had drained away—when she picturedFaith, determined face framed in a crown of wild hair, holding down that monster of a cat with a fishing net—she couldn’t help but laugh.
Why do I let myself get
Like wisps of smoke from a campfire, anger wove its way through Anne’s gut, spiraling into her chest, her face, tightening her jaw until she spoke between clenched teeth. “Faith Adelle, what did I tell you about being careful of your new dress?”
Silence met the question. Faith looked down at the ground, but it was plain to see there wasn’t any remorse on her features. Just pure, unadulterated stubbornness.
Anne crossed her arms. Everything was ruined. She’d wanted this to be such a special moment.
Why, Lord? Why, this one time, couldn’t Faith be good?
She glared at her daughter. “Go to your room, Faith.”
Her head came up. “But we’re going to have a tea party—”
She pointed inside. “To … your … room.”
Faith’s chin jutted out. Shoulders high, she marched past Anne, the very image of a wounded princess. As she stomped by, Anne caught her muttered words.
“Don’t care. Tiger catchers don’t even
like
tea.”
Hours later, Anne stood in the doorway to her daughter’s room, watching the even lift and fall of Faith’s small chest as she slept. Slow steps carried Anne to Faith’s bed, and she eased down on the edge, careful not to wake her sleeping child.
She sat there, silent, watching…
Why, God? Why does anger last for a moment, while the regret it brings lasts for an eternity?
If only she’d kept her temper in check. If only she’d been able to take the unexpected in stride and not let it ruin everything.
Anne stroked Faith’s soft hair, smoothing it away from her sleep-flushed cheek.
She’d wasted so much time and energy on anger today. She’d simmered all afternoon, waiting for Jared to come home so she could complain to someone. But the oddest thing happened. When she finished telling him her tale of woe, pacingback and forth the whole time she spoke, she turned, expecting to see sympathy on his face.
Instead, she caught her husband fighting laughter. “Sweetums …
ran
?”
Anne stared at him. “Well … yes.” She blinked. “Sort of … I mean, it was kind of a
rolling
run.”
Jared gave up the fight. A grin danced across his features even as his chuckle slid free.
Anne crossed her arms over her chest. She was
not
going to give in. She was angry, doggone it, and had every right to be! She arched her brows at him. “You certainly couldn’t blame the poor creature. I thought Faith was going to squash him.”
“I didn’t think that monster’s legs worked.”
Anne couldn’t help it. Her lips twitched. “I know.”
“And Faith managed to pin him down? Good grief, he weighs almost as much as she does.”
Her husband’s humor was as infectious as a case of the measles. The anger Anne had nursed all day dissipated, leaving a swell of giggles in its place. She pushed at his arm. “Jared, be serious.”
“I’m
always
serious.”
She lowered herself into the chair beside him, giving him a sideways look. “Seriously demented, maybe.”
His hand flew to his chest. “I’m wounded!”
“Hmm.”
Leaning his elbows on the table, he rested his chin in his hands. “Come on, Annie. Admit it. You’ve never even seen the beast walk on his own.”
She held her hands up. “Okay, okay, I admit it.”
He sat back, nodding. “See there? Our little girl wasn’t tormenting the critter; she was working a miracle on him!”
“Ohhh,
you
!”
Anne smiled anew at the exchange. Then her smile faded. She brushed Faith’s bangs away from her forehead, blinking back sudden tears.
Why, Lord? Why can’t I see things the way Jared does? Why can’t I find the humor in life’s little crises?
When she thought about it later, after talking with Jared, after her hurt and anger had drained away—when she picturedFaith, determined face framed in a crown of wild hair, holding down that monster of a cat with a fishing net—she couldn’t help but laugh.
Why do I let myself get
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