Mom Over Miami - By Annie Jones Page 0,65
the cost, just tell me what you want me to do.”
“Just go down to the travel agent—you need to go there to handle it all in person so there are no slipups with the flight or the hotel reservations. Can you do that?”
“I can.”
“Will you?”
“What choice do I have?”
“Great. I gotta run.”
She gripped the receiver, willing herself to place it gently back in its cradle.
You have to make time for yourself. The things you need to be a good wife and mother and friend don’t come measured out in hours and minutes. They come from the well of your spirit. If you let that go dry by always giving and never tending to yourself, you have nothing left to give.
Sappy seventies sentiment or not, Hannah found herself gravitating to Lauren’s words of wisdom and wondering…
Hannah walked slowly into the living room.
“One of our wayward class moms calling to get directions?” Lauren asked.
“Hardly.”
“Too bad, because I have to run.”
Startled from her musing, Hannah blinked and discovered her eyes damp with the threat of tears. “You, too?”
“Don’t peg me for a deserter just yet. Stilton has a piano lesson, then Tae Kwon Do. In fact, he has a class or homework or we have church or something almost every day of the week.”
“Wow.”
“Tell me about it. I haven’t had a full afternoon free since that kid had his first Tumble Tots class at three.”
“Six years?”
“And only nine more to go. Sometimes I think we over-schedule him, but then I don’t know what we’d cut out and still feel we’d given him every advantage to get into a top-rated college.”
“College?” She was supposed to be laying the groundwork for college already?
“But so I won’t leave you in the lurch.” She waggled one stuffed finished frog in the air by the feet to keep popcorn from spilling out. “Suppose we divvy up the duties?”
“I…” Hannah looked around in a daze, not sure how she felt, what she thought or what she needed to do. “I don’t have anything big enough to put half the popcorn in.”
“That’s easy—you put it into the frogs.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“We’ve got them all turned and ready, you pour the popcorn in, then set them open, seam-up, in a box for me to finish. You stuff, I stitch.” She made a broad sewing motion, her pinched thumb and forefinger holding an imaginary needle.
“Right. That’s probably for the best, anyway. The way I feel right now, I really shouldn’t be handling sharp objects.”
“You going to be okay?”
“I think I can manage to fill up a few frogs.” Why not? She had all the time in the world, now.
“Okay, just have your aunt bring them to school when she picks up Sam this afternoon, okay?”
“Sure.” She didn’t have the energy to explain that she’d be available to do the car pool today after all.
“And have a great trip.”
“Actually, I—”
R-r-r-r-ring!
First thing tomorrow she was going to discontinue phone service. And e-mail. And her cell phone. And disable her doorbell and…
And it would have been so much more practical to just run away from it all.
R-r-r-r-ring!
“I’ll let myself out.” Lauren already had the front door open wide.
For a split second Hannah thought of making a break for it. Just go. Get out. Fly away. But just as quickly the door fell shut and the phone demanded her attention again.
R-r-r-r-
“Bartlett Frog Farm, where dreams go to croak.”
“Hannah?”
“Payt?” She swallowed hard. Her pulse did a little jig. “It was all a big joke, right? A prank? Something to shake the cobwebs off the old wife before the vacation starts?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Oh. What do you need, then?” Too bad he never stopped and asked her what she needed anymore. No one did. Just what they needed from her.
“Well, since your aunt is here to take care of the kids. And since you’ve got to get out of the house to deal with the travel agent, I had a thought.”
Wait a minute. He talked like a man with a plan. A whole new plan. A plan to make up for the lousy change of plans he’d dropped on her earlier. “Yes?”
“Well, there’s no reason now why you can’t pop in and clean the office tonight after all.”
“And there it is, ladies and gents.”
“What? Hannah, what are you talking about?”
It.
The line.
The final push.
The point of no return.
The last straw.
Hannah clucked her tongue. She’d made up her mind just that fast, and she saw no purpose in launching into any further explanation. She just told her husband not to expect her in