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I fist bump him, soggy fingers and all, when I say, “That’s what I call her…Tiny.”
I’m glad to see that’s Sarah’s got the start of a smile going, and that she accepts when the woman asks her if we want to come inside for a minute.
Holy domestic bliss. That’s what I’m thinking when we walk into their home. It smells like something really good is baking in the oven, there are toys everywhere, and the vibe is just so…home, sweet home. Taking it in, I chuckle when I see there’s a sign with that very saying hanging above the mantle.
“Your home is beautiful,” Sarah says, her tone indicating that she’s loosening up, thank the Lord.
“Thanks,” the mom says as she deftly steps over toys and a pile of books on her way to the kitchen. “Have a seat. These will be ready,” she opens the oven and takes a whiff, “right now. Perfect!” Turning to a cutie who looks to be around three or four, she says, “Rose, grab some of that honey butter we made from the fridge, ok?”
I’m about to thank her and tell her she doesn’t have to feed us, but the words die on my lips when I smell those muffins. And she makes her own honey butter? Sign. Me. Up.
“Oh, we’re ok, you don’t have to go to any trouble.” And the fact that I want to pinch and simultaneously shush Sarah speaks to how hungry I am.
“No, it’s our pleasure. Any friends of Grace’s are welcome here.”
Her husband asks, “Are you—,” but clams up when his wife shoots him a look that says:stop talking.
“So,” I ask, “does Grace live here anymore?”
“Um, she sold us this house two years ago.” But when the woman sees Sarah lower her head in response to this, she adds, “But she’s not far from here.”
“She’s in Pittsburgh, hardly more than an hour north of here. She moved up there with—”
Again he gets theshut your pie holelook. Although I have to hand it to the wife, she delivers it with a whole lot of warmth, considering she’s telling him to shut up.
“Did it take you long to get here?” the lady asks Sarah.
“Kinda.”
I expand on her one-word answer. “The first address we had was in North Carolina, and from there we got this address.”
“Hold up,” the guy says, “so you’ve been on the road for like fourteen hours?”
I try and calculate it in my head. “Something like that.”
“Do you want to sleep for a little bit? I’ll call Grace. I know she’ll be down here in a snap.”
“No!” Sarah says this so loud that everyone whips around to look at her, and the baby, who was whimpering before, is now wailing. She’s wide-eyed and sweating, looking around and clearly embarrassed.
Taking her hand in mine, I look to them both. “That’s all right. We need to keep heading back up north, so maybe you could just give us her address?”
The woman, Sienna, smiles in an apologetic way and nods. “Sure. Garth, my hands are full. Can you text them the address.”
The guy seems too easy-going to be crafty, so it’s not lost on me when Sienna gestures her chin towards the cell phone on the table as he’s reaching for the pencil tucked behind his ear. She wants a record of Sarah’s phone number. It comes off like snooping, and I’m not sure I appreciate the intrusion, but I hold off just as I’m about to push the pencil and paper option. For some reason I trust them.
We say our goodbyes and head back to the car with a bag full of baked treats and bottles of water. Pulling away, I decide it’s good that we’re leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for Grace, just like Grace did for Sarah.
Chapter Twenty-Five
LIAM
“Thoughts?”
She answers, “They seemed really nice, right?”
“I may be biased because those were the best muffins I’ve ever tasted, but yeah, they were both very kind. Were you panicking there for a second—”
“Thinking I had four siblings? Oh, yeah.”
