ear just as Hailey had. The whooshing sound mutated as she changed the distance from her ear, getting louder as she pulled it farther away.
A chill chased down her spine.
She pictured Jack looking into her eyes, saying “I do” on their wedding day there on the beach.
Jack was in her heart. Always. Forever. Their love, as vast as the ocean, was tucked inside her soul for eternity.
The children ran and played in the yard, a mingling of pounding sneakers and squeals. Instead of turning on the radio or television for company, she purposefully let the quiet cloak her. She noticed that her heartbeat squelched the flurry of thoughts that usually assailed her. Concentrating on a deep eight-count breath, then letting it out, she repeated that until she felt more at peace.
She got up and walked into the kitchen, ready to embrace the rest of the day. She filled a stockpot with water and began working on a big batch of spaghetti. She had three burners going: one with the ground beef; another with a garden mixture of tomatoes, celery, and onion; and boiling water that was about ready for the noodles to be dropped in. The sizzling and bubbling water made its own melody.
I’m going to do better. I’ll ask for help. I’m saying it. I need help. “I need help.” Her voice sounded unrecognizable, and that caught her off guard.
“I need help.” Pushing back the guilt and just saying it was somehow freeing. She turned to be sure the kids were still outside and couldn’t overhear. “I need help with the kids. With…things around here.” She lifted her hands as she looked around the kitchen. It was tidy, but there were some things that needed a skilled touch, like the leak around the faucet handle and the wobbly cabinet door next to the sink.
Why was it she hadn’t asked for help all this time? “I’m being strong for you, Jack. For us. For the kids. Being strong doesn’t mean having to do it alone, though, does it? I need help, and that’s okay. Right?”
The wooden spoon that was balanced across the boiling spaghetti fell into the pot, sending her skittering backward.
Her hand on her heart, she laughed as she realized what had happened and fished the spoon out of the pot and set it aside.
The kids seemed happy enough playing in the sandbox in the backyard today, so she left them to their own imaginations while she cooked a family-size batch of baked spaghetti to split between them and Maeve. It wouldn’t be right to have tempted her with the mention of it and never deliver on it. Who didn’t love spaghetti? The best part was it got better each time it was reheated.
It was nice to have an excuse to use her fresh herbs. She pulled down an Italian blend she’d dried last week and sprinkled it over the pot of simmering vegetables. The herbs changed the aroma in the kitchen.
She lowered the temperature on the stove to let the sauce bubble and padded to the living room, where she sat at the end of the couch. Tucking her feet beneath her, she reached for the journal Maeve had given her. There was an ink pen inside. She pulled it from the leather loop and clicked it. With slow, intentional movements, she wrote her name at the top of the second page.
Amanda Whittier
She closed the journal and reached up to tuck it on top of the row of paperback novels on the shelf behind her. At the last moment, she pulled it back, opened it, and wrote:
I will not be afraid to ask for help.
15
Amanda lifted her hand to knock on Maeve’s front door. Popping in on Maeve had seemed like a wonderful thing to do when she was cooking. Now as she stood there with the casserole dish—a dreaded casserole dish—with Jesse and Hailey at her side, she hoped the visit would play out like it had in her mind.
She knocked, hoping for the best but feeling more awkward the longer she stood there. A cheerful flip-flop wind sock rippled in the air. On a really breezy day, it probably looked like a giant ready to step on the awning of the huge house.
A wind chime made from shells hung by the handrail.
Jesse and Hailey played on the stairs. “You two be careful.”
The door opened, and Maeve’s face lit up. “What a wonderful surprise!” She clapped her hands.
“I made that spaghetti I was