moan. “You still got the cooking chops. Aw, man, this is good.”
“Eat up. You know me—I always make too much. Which is just enough when you’re feeding Marines.”
He took a big swallow of his tea and gave her a thumbs-up and a wink.
“Semper fi!” Jesse yelled.
“He hasn’t said that in a while.” Amanda placed her fork next to her plate. Semper fi had been Jesse’s first words, the way Jack told it. She was pretty sure the first word he’d actually uttered was mine, although she’d tried hard to hear it as Mom.
Paul reached over and high-fived him.
The conversation over dinner was mostly between Paul and Hailey. Jesse was never one to chat during a meal. Fully focused on the food in front of him, he wore some of it on his chin. She handed him a napkin, and he wiped his face without missing a bite.
After dinner they cleared the table, and then Paul offered to help with the dishes.
Needing a moment to herself, she insisted on washing them while he and the kids went out back to play. Competing thoughts raced through her mind. Sometimes not having the luxury of a dishwasher was a good thing, like tonight, when she could stand there lost in her thoughts through the mindless task.
The chatter from outside was like music. Paul had bought bubble solution and was blowing bubbles faster than Hailey and Jesse could chase them down. Occasionally, a bubble would fly past, popping against the window frame. One was so big the bluish-yellow orb bounced against the screen before it burst in a soapy, firework-like spray. A mixture of giggles and squeals floated inside. Usually those sounds were joyful noise, but tonight she felt…flat.
She stacked the last of the dishes on the draining rack and walked back to her bedroom. After closing the door behind her, she sat on the edge of the bed. In her feminine bedroom, the only masculine touch left was Jack’s shirt on the back of the chair. She moved it from its place of honor into her arms, hugging it in front of the mirror.
Is this okay? It’s so nice to have Paul here, almost like you’re back, but it feels like I’m betraying you.
She stood there, wishing for an answer, swaying slowly to the left and the right, ticktock. Tell me what to do.
In the reflection of her bureau mirror, the shell on the corner of her nightstand reminded her of what was important. She didn’t have to pick it up to read the quote. It had been on her mind ever since they’d found it.
“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”
She laughed at the memory of Hailey asking who Have Lots was.
Letting go.
Amanda held the shirt to her face, breathing in the fabric. Just the other day, she’d caught the scent of Jack from it again, but today there was nothing there. I’ve been fooling myself.
She carefully laid out the shirt on her bed, pressing her hands along the fabric as she made each fold, then rolled it down into a small envelope-size bundle. She’d thought redecorating in all the feminine colors would make a difference. She held the shirt. This draped across the back of the chair—it wasn’t Jack. Jack was in her heart. In her children. He’d always be here. There was nothing to hold on to.
Thank You for watching over us. For bringing special people along my path. Always at the right time. In Your time. I’m listening. Don’t let go of my hand.
She slid out her top dresser drawer, the one where she kept her most beloved jewelry and mementos, and tucked the shirt there. She then placed Jack’s watch, the one she’d had engraved for him on their wedding day, right on top of it.
I love you, Jack.
* * *
—
She stepped outside into the dimly lit backyard. Paul sat on top of the picnic table in a flurry of bubbles. The kids hopped and jumped, chasing them across the yard.
“You two are going to sleep good,” Paul said.
“You get extra credit for that, Paul Grant,” Amanda teased. “Are y’all having fun?”
“More fun than hunting ghost crabs.” Paul puffed out another spewing fountain of bubbles that Lawrence Welk would’ve been proud to call his own.
“Ghost crabs?” Hailey stopped in her tracks. She clocked a finger back and forth toward Paul. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Paul grimaced but recovered quickly. “You’re exactly right. However, there is such