Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
With Sammy sleeping and the boys in their beds, there’s no way I’m just going to leave her apartment. I can hang around for a bit, keep an ear out for the kids, and give her some time to rest.
The screen of my phone lights up with a new message.
Mary: She was a little grumpy this morning but warmed up as the day went on.
A “little grumpy” most likely means that my dear sister was giving Mary a run for her money this morning.
Me: How grumpy are we talking?
Mary: You remember that summer two years ago when she refused to eat breakfast?
Me: Uh-oh.
It was a rough few months, to say the least. Kara, while nonverbal, sometimes tries to gain control in other ways that can serve up some seriously frustrating moments.
Mary: Yeah. LOL. But good news is that she was back to being a little sweetheart before I left this evening. Even finished all her dinner and took a bath. You still planning on stopping by tomorrow?
Me: I’ll be there.
The moment I hit send, the creaking sound of wood pulls my attention toward the hallway, and I find a sleepy-eyed Seth shuffling into the living room. His face twists in confusion when he sees me.
“Hey, bud. You feeling better?” I ask him on a whisper, hoping he’ll take the hint to follow along so his mom can sleep.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m hungry.”
I jump up from the chair and head over toward him, giving him a small ruffle on the head while purposefully checking his forehead for a fever. When I note that his temperature feels normal and his face is devoid of discomfort or nausea, I walk into the kitchen.
“How about some chicken noodle soup?”
He nods enthusiastically.
“Good. Climb up on that stool,” I instruct with a jerk of my chin.
Seth scrambles to the seat at the island and pulls himself up on it. His Spider-Man pajamas remind me of how little he is, despite the seriousness in his eyes. With all the major life changes he’s had recently—his parents’ divorce and moving to a new city and going to a new school—I imagine he’s carrying some weight on his tiny shoulders that he’s probably too young to fully understand.
“Noah, why are you here?”
“I heard you were sick and figured I’d check in on you guys and bring some soup.”
“We didn’t get to go to the game.” He frowns. “It sucks.”
“I’ll make sure we get tickets again soon.”
“Yeah?” he asks, hope in his voice. “You promise?”
“I promise,” I answer as I preheat the oven again and put the soup on the stove. “So…how’s school been? Get sent to the principal’s office anymore?” I tease and Seth laughs.
“Nah. We’re not doing that much because it’s almost the end of the year. We get to play a lot.”
“That sounds cool. Like recess, or something else?”
“Recess is the same, but we’ve been watching a couple of movies, and Ms. Dayton’s been letting us do board-game math.”
“Board-game math, huh? That sounds like something you came up with.”
Seth scoffs. “I wouldn’t come up with anything with math.”
I grin. “Not your favorite subject, huh?”
“Heck no.” He makes a face that could only be described as, Ew, gross. “Math sucks.”
“Yeah, math does kind of suck,” I agree with a knowing smile.
“But you’re a doctor,” he states with a skeptical raise of his brow. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at math?”
“Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean I like it.”
He nods like he can relate.
“But if you ever need help with math,” I add, “just give me a call. I’m sure we can find a way to make it fun.”
“Oh yeah!” he exclaims, but I’m thankful his voice is still quiet. “You can teach me while we play Cafeteria Battleship!”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agree, but then I point one index finger at him. “But don’t expect Dr. Shepard to join in again. He’s still mad you kicked his butt.”
Seth cracks up at that, and I procure the now-hot soup from the stove. After setting the bowl in front of him, I drop an ice cube right in the center of the steam. He watches avidly as it melts.
“Whatcha doin’ here, Noah?”
I look up to find Grant standing at the edge of the hallway, and Sal, the stuffed sloth I gave him, is tucked firmly under his tiny arm.
“He brought us soup,” Seth explains for me, his mouth working around the giant bite of noodles he’s currently chewing on. “But be quiet because Mom’s sleepin’.”
“I was bein’ quiet, Seth,” Grant refutes with a quick glare at his older brother. “You sleepin’ over, Noah?”
Sleeping over? Ha. The innocence of kids is certainly something to be admired.
“Nope. Just hanging out for a bit.”
“Ah, man,” Grant groans and gestures his disappointment with his still-casted arm.
“You hungry?” I ask, purposefully changing the subject. “How about some soup?”