Hannah Maria Estevez looked out the car window. She liked riding in the car. She liked looking out the window, at the always-changing scenery. “It would be nice to live out here in the country,” Dad said as he carefully steered the car on the curvy road.
Mac opened the kitchen door and took a flying leap off the back porch. Dad took the steps. They walked together across the grass to the street. “Which way?” Dad asked.
Trevor Paul Monroe stood at the front window. His nose wasn’t exactly pressed against the glass, but almost. He stared down the street. “They’re here!” he shouted. He ran to the front door and yanked it open.
Joseph Anderson Donetti opened the kitchen door and stepped out onto the back porch. Puffy white clouds floated in the blue spring sky overhead. One of them looked exactly like a long, fat whale.
Hannah Maria Estevez eyed the pile of brightly colored cards in Pastor Chuck’s hand. She wondered what he was going to have them do in Sabbath School today. Whatever it was, she wanted to have a pink card, she decided. Or maybe one of the sunshine yellow ones.
Mac followed Mom through the heavy glass door. Mom smiled at the receptionist sitting behind a small brown desk, and then she walked straight ahead into a big living room kind of room. Mac’s eyes opened wide. She had never seen so many older people in one place before.
G.M. carefully washed out her paintbrush in the jar of water that sat on the work table close to her elbow. She turned around to look at Joseph. “What?” she asked. “I don’t like this Bible story,” Joseph repeated. “I thought God was supposed to be fair.”
Outside, the sun was shining brightly. Trevor sighed. He couldn’t believe that he really had to pull weeds instead of playing basketball with Matthew across the street. He was sure he was the only boy in the neighborhood who would be on his knees in the garden instead of shooting hoops.
By Linda Porter Carlyle Joseph Anderson Donetti let the screen door bang behind him. He walked across the porch and stopped at the edge with the toes of his sneakers hanging over. They almost touched the tops of the perky daffodils blooming below. Joseph was proud of those daffodils. They were the very first flowers
Hannah Maria Estevez held her breath. She looked from Papa’s twinkling eyes to Mama. Baby Paulo banged his spoon on the tray of his high chair, but Hannah didn’t even hear him. Would Mama let her go? Would Mama really let her miss a day of school when she wasn’t even sick?
