Simple Gifts by Lori Copeland Page B

down.”
    Before he could explain further, we heard approaching footsteps.
    â€œWell imagine this, two of my favorite people. What are you little hoodlums cooking up now?”
    I hadn’t heard Joe approach, but there he stood, eyes twinkling with mischief.
    â€œIce cream, Pop?”
    â€œI better not, just out for my evening stroll.” He focused on me. “Quite a lively service tonight.”
    I bit my lip to keep from giggling and concentrated on my ice cream. “Quite.”
    Vic frowned. “Lively? At Mount Pleasant?”
    â€œWell—different,” Joe admitted.
    â€œHow was Miss Mattie after services?” I nibbled chocolate coating off my bar.
    Joe visibly cringed. “A tad upset with me, I fear.”
    â€œMiss Mattie?” Vic turned to look at me. “Why would Mattie be upset with Pop?”
    â€œAsk him about his automatic page turner.”
    Deep crimson flooded Joe’s face, evident in the glow of the overhead streetlight. “Guess there’s still a few bugs in the invention. I’ll have to work on it a bit more before she uses it again.”
    I filled Vic in on the musical fiasco. He chuckled.
    â€œAnd I missed the excitement,” he said.
    â€œYou’d have loved it.”
    Joe grinned. “Well, it did liven up the meeting.” He lifted a hand. “I’ll see you two later. The evening air is bad for old folks.” He gave me an exaggerated wink and left, hailing a tall, dark-haired man leaving the convenience store. They continued down the road together, deep in conversation.
    Silence closed around us. Not a siren to be heard. A chorus of frogs sang a nocturnal concert.
    Vic laughed. “A little different from Glen Ellyn, I guess.”
    â€œVery different.”
    â€œBored?”
    â€œNot in the least.” Truth be told, I was in heaven; I hated the thought of going home almost as much as I missed Sara and my grandbabies.
    A carload of teenagers passed, radio cranked to the max. “Reminds me of the way we used to hang out.”
    I smiled. “Yeah. Those were the days, huh?”
    â€œHow’s Noel?”
    I licked the stick clean and disposed of it in the nearby trash receptacle. “Now I’m cold.”
    â€œI can remedy that.” He hooked an arm around my neck like he had so many years ago, a brotherly gesture, and we set off for home. I hadn’t answered his question. I didn’t intend to.
    â€œEver feel like we’re getting old, Marlene?”
    â€œAll the time.” I pressed closer. How could I get any older than I felt right now? Where had the years gone? Why had I thought my plan for my life was wiser than God’s?
    â€œYou know, when we were kids we didn’t think much about life. We had it all ahead of us. We thought it would all be good. Coming up roses.”
    â€œTurned out to have a little crabgrass mixed in.”
    He leaned closer and grinned. “We’re not old. We’re in our prime; the best is yet to come.”
    I laughed. “Nice try, but I know baloney when I hear it.”
    â€œI mean it. There’s something to be said for experience. Kids think they know everything, but they only know enough to mislead and confuse them. They don’t start to live until life throws them a few curveballs.”
    â€œHummm.” I’d had my share of curveballs and sliders. I missed my naiveté.
    â€œYour life hasn’t been all laughs?”
    Ha! “I can’t complain. Sara’s been a blessing.”
    â€œIf she’s anything like you, she must be great.”
    I studied the way one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other when he smiled, the familiar planes in his face—how I’d missed him. So much that it hurt. With some effort I pulled my attention back to the conversation. “She’s a little dependent on me.”
    Like a leech, a barnacle on a ship’s hull, a piece of lichen on a rock. Why