Mac giggled. “OK,” she said. She skipped over to the wall of post office boxes and peeked through the tiny glass window. “We only have two letters today,” she announced as she turned the combination knobs to open the box.
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MacKenzie Isabelle Evans couldn’t believe her eyes as she looked out the bedroom window! In fact, she rubbed them to make sure she was not dreaming.
Trevor Paul Monroe could not believe his ears! “You mean Brad and Ben get to go do things with their youth group, and I have to go sit in the backyard? And not do anything? I just have to sit there?” he exclaimed.
Joseph Anderson Donetti sat down on the porch and chuckled to himself. G.M. had really outdone herself this time! He couldn’t believe the school assignment she had given him.
Hannah Maria Estevez looked out the kitchen window at the pouring rain. “It’s funny!” she exclaimed. “We’re writing a report about water, and it’s raining!”
Aunt Celeste sat up straight. “Do you know how hard it is for a woman my age to get a job?” she exclaimed. “And I don’t know anything at all about computers. It seems like you have to know all about computers to get any kind of job nowadays! Job hunting is so discouraging!”
“Dad is going to be even more amazed at my delicious baked beans!” Ben said. He shoved his hands into two oven mitts and slowly lifted a round brown pot with a lid up to the stove top. Then he yanked off the mitts and tossed them to his brother.
Pastor Chuck grinned. “In two weeks, we’re going to have a special worship service on Friday night. It’s going to be kind of a church family worship. There will be lots of music, and if any of you would like to participate, you are invited to do so.”
MacKenzie Isabelle Evans hunched into her jacket as she sat on the top back porch step. A sharp breeze skittered around the corner of the house and ruffled Mac’s red curls. Mac shivered. The outside cold matched the cold inside her.
MacKenzie Isabelle Evans stood with her nose pressed against the window of the back door. She hopped impatiently up and down. “When will he get here?” she asked Mom for about the seventeenth time. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?”
