cracker in his mouth, got it good and slimy, then removed it and stuck it on his jeans.
“Whatcha doing there, buddy?” Ben asked.
“Lake.” Sam pointed to the ring of fish on his pant leg. “Fish swimming in the lake.”
“Of course.” Ben slapped the steering wheel and let out a snort. Tara had to look away to keep from laughing.
“Why?” she asked. “And how could your parents raise fifteen children? Fifteen fish-on-the-jeans kids, fifteen pairs of feet jumping on the couch, fifteen sticky marshmallow-on-the-face kids? Why would anyone do that? And how did your mother stay sane while she did?”
“That’s a valid question,” Ben admitted. “And the only thing I can tell you is something I heard my mother say over and over again throughout her life.”
“Yes?” Tara leaned forward, eager for this paragon of wisdom, this deep family secret, he was about to impart.
“It’s all about joy.”
“That’s it?” she asked. “What does that even mean?”
“I suppose we have to figure that out for ourselves. But for my mom this—” He inclined his head toward Sam and his pant leg lake of fish crackers, “—was the joy.”
Twelve
Shortly before noon traffic began to back up and slow on the highway. They’d made good time to that point, but within a few minutes they were bumper-to-bumper with the cars in front and behind at a complete standstill.
This isn’t good. Tara had hoped they’d be stopping for lunch—and more importantly, a bathroom—soon.
Ben put the truck in park. “Be right back.” He opened his door and jumped out, letting in a blast of icy air in his place. Tara reached forward, twisting the knob on the heater to high.
As he watched his uncle leave, Sam began fussing. He reached down swatting at the fish stuck to his pants, sending many of them Tara’s way.
“Don’t do that.” She grabbed for his hand. “I don’t want any fish. You keep them.”
“No fish. No fish,” he cried, letting out a howl like a wolf. Tara peered out the window, trying to see how many cars in front of them Ellen’s van was. If Sam was going to whine, maybe they could trade back for Cadie.
Ben’s door swung open, and he climbed in the truck. “I’m not sure what the delay is, but it looks like a long one. Cars stopped in front of us as far as I can see.”
This is so not good. Tara crossed her legs again and tried not to think about the water bottle and two cups of hot cocoa she’d consumed that morning.
Sam continued to fuss, so Ben unfastened his car seat and picked him up. “You want to steer the truck for a while?”
The little boy nodded. Ben turned the ignition off, sat Sam in front of him facing the wheel, and let him go for it, adding sound effects as necessary.
Tara rolled her eyes at them. “I’m surprised you don’t have fifteen kids of your own. You’re very good with them.”
“No kids. Just pigs—which sometimes don’t seem too different.”
Remembering the way Ellen’s kids had attacked the marshmallows and chocolate the night before, Tara agreed.
“What made you decide on pigs—on Ohio?” she asked. “That’s clear across the country. I’d think you’d want to be near family.”
“I did until a few years ago. But after my parents died, I needed to get away. I’d served a mission for my church in Ohio, and I liked it a lot. It seemed the logical thing to go back.”
“Do you ever wish you hadn’t?” Tara asked. Once, the logical thing to her had seemed moving to LA, but there were times she wasn’t so sure that had been the right choice.
“There are some things I miss—the mountains, for instance. About the tallest thing you get in Ohio is a hill, but it is green and beautiful there. I’ve got a great piece of property.”
“It’s amazing what people will do for property,” Tara said. “I sell real estate, and I’ve seen the need to own land do some pretty strange things to people.”
“That’s not why I moved,” Ben said. “If
“Whatcha doing there, buddy?” Ben asked.
“Lake.” Sam pointed to the ring of fish on his pant leg. “Fish swimming in the lake.”
“Of course.” Ben slapped the steering wheel and let out a snort. Tara had to look away to keep from laughing.
“Why?” she asked. “And how could your parents raise fifteen children? Fifteen fish-on-the-jeans kids, fifteen pairs of feet jumping on the couch, fifteen sticky marshmallow-on-the-face kids? Why would anyone do that? And how did your mother stay sane while she did?”
“That’s a valid question,” Ben admitted. “And the only thing I can tell you is something I heard my mother say over and over again throughout her life.”
“Yes?” Tara leaned forward, eager for this paragon of wisdom, this deep family secret, he was about to impart.
“It’s all about joy.”
“That’s it?” she asked. “What does that even mean?”
“I suppose we have to figure that out for ourselves. But for my mom this—” He inclined his head toward Sam and his pant leg lake of fish crackers, “—was the joy.”
Twelve
Shortly before noon traffic began to back up and slow on the highway. They’d made good time to that point, but within a few minutes they were bumper-to-bumper with the cars in front and behind at a complete standstill.
This isn’t good. Tara had hoped they’d be stopping for lunch—and more importantly, a bathroom—soon.
Ben put the truck in park. “Be right back.” He opened his door and jumped out, letting in a blast of icy air in his place. Tara reached forward, twisting the knob on the heater to high.
As he watched his uncle leave, Sam began fussing. He reached down swatting at the fish stuck to his pants, sending many of them Tara’s way.
“Don’t do that.” She grabbed for his hand. “I don’t want any fish. You keep them.”
“No fish. No fish,” he cried, letting out a howl like a wolf. Tara peered out the window, trying to see how many cars in front of them Ellen’s van was. If Sam was going to whine, maybe they could trade back for Cadie.
Ben’s door swung open, and he climbed in the truck. “I’m not sure what the delay is, but it looks like a long one. Cars stopped in front of us as far as I can see.”
This is so not good. Tara crossed her legs again and tried not to think about the water bottle and two cups of hot cocoa she’d consumed that morning.
Sam continued to fuss, so Ben unfastened his car seat and picked him up. “You want to steer the truck for a while?”
The little boy nodded. Ben turned the ignition off, sat Sam in front of him facing the wheel, and let him go for it, adding sound effects as necessary.
Tara rolled her eyes at them. “I’m surprised you don’t have fifteen kids of your own. You’re very good with them.”
“No kids. Just pigs—which sometimes don’t seem too different.”
Remembering the way Ellen’s kids had attacked the marshmallows and chocolate the night before, Tara agreed.
“What made you decide on pigs—on Ohio?” she asked. “That’s clear across the country. I’d think you’d want to be near family.”
“I did until a few years ago. But after my parents died, I needed to get away. I’d served a mission for my church in Ohio, and I liked it a lot. It seemed the logical thing to go back.”
“Do you ever wish you hadn’t?” Tara asked. Once, the logical thing to her had seemed moving to LA, but there were times she wasn’t so sure that had been the right choice.
“There are some things I miss—the mountains, for instance. About the tallest thing you get in Ohio is a hill, but it is green and beautiful there. I’ve got a great piece of property.”
“It’s amazing what people will do for property,” Tara said. “I sell real estate, and I’ve seen the need to own land do some pretty strange things to people.”
“That’s not why I moved,” Ben said. “If
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