Mac discovered the art aisle was just as interesting as it had been the last time she visited it. Even the ordinary things, such as the brand-new boxes of crayons filled with their own rainbows of color, were fun to look at. And then there were rubber stamps with all kinds of designs and messages to read. And there were paint-by-number kits and books of designs and fascinating mazes. And gel pens!
Hannah Maria Estevez clenched her fists. Hot tears of disappointment burned behind her eyeballs, and she blinked to keep the tears from spilling out.
Mac dashed into the kitchen and soon returned with a cookbook in hand. She plopped down on the sofa and began to leaf through it. “There sure are lots of different kinds of salads!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know there were so many! Listen to this! Cherry Salad, Coconut-Pineapple Salad, Cranberry Fluff Salad—I wonder what the fluff part is,” she giggled.
MacKenzie Isabelle Evans handed Mom her Primary Treasure and then plopped down beside her on the couch.
Trevor Paul Monroe opened his eyes. He was wide awake and full of energy. How strange to be absolutely asleep one minute and completely awake the next!
“What do you want to celebrate?” Pastor Chuck asked. Mac’s red curls danced as she shook her head. “I don’t know. But we could find something to celebrate!”
Hannah Maria Estevez was dreaming. A giant fly buzzed around and around her head. She took aim and swatted at it. Hannah Maria Estevez hit herself in the nose. She abruptly woke up!
“I’m glad you’re home!” Trevor said quickly. “My mom has to go to a meeting this morning, and I don’t want to go with her. She said I could come over to your house. If it’s convenient,” he added. “I’m not supposed to beg.”
Joseph Anderson Donetti sighed and rolled over in bed. He cracked one eye and peeked at the summer sunshine spilling around the edges of the window shades into his bedroom. He yawned and stretched mightily.
By Linda Porter Carlyle MacKenzie Isabelle Evans sat cross-legged on an old quilt on the grass and leaned back against one leg of the lawn chair where Mom rested. Mac sighed. She felt as if she could sit happily in that same spot forever, surrounded by her Kansas kin. (Kin was a new word she’d