“I think it’s complicated. Have you told the boys?”

“No. But I’m going to do that tonight over dinner.”

On Monday afternoon, I was sitting on the front porch in the cool air reading the Post & Courier when I saw Tyler and Hunter coming down the block. Their backpacks were slung across their backs like Marley’s crippling chains. Their young shoulders didn’t seem broad enough to carry their troubles, and before they even reached my porch, I read the expressions on their faces and knew they were very unhappy.

Before they reached me, I knew what they would say. They didn’t want another mother. Or anyone to try to take Carin’s place in any way whatsoever. I understood that clearly. Their point of view was valid. And that was the problem as it stood between them and their father. They didn’t want Sharon. Their father did. Sharon, in the best case, was indifferent to the boys.

Leslie was inside sleeping off a hangover. I’d heard her slip in the house at sunrise. Oh, Leslie.

And my mother, believe it or not, had baked cookies for the boys. Okay, they were just the slice-and-bake variety, but for her? This? Are you kidding? We might have been in the End Times. Even Momma, hard-hearted as she may have seemed, felt very badly for the boys.

When the weather was nice, Tyler and Hunter walked the few blocks home from school together. And when Archie wasn’t home, they came to my house. It had been this way since Carin died. There was always someone home in our house, so they didn’t have to go into an empty house with no one to ask them how their day had gone. Besides, they were too young to be home alone. And since Sharon worked during the week, they would continue to come to my house after school at least until they were old enough to have a key. I hoped.

At that point, because I knew the ball was in play with no chance of a time-out, I had some thoughts for them to help them get through the crisis.

“Well! Hello, gentlemen! How was your day?” I said, standing to greet them.

I folded my paper as though it didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t. The most important news had arrived in person.

“Terrible,” Tyler said.

“Yeah,” Hunter said. “Terrible. I threw up my lunch.”

“Come here, sweetheart,” I said.

“Luckily, he didn’t barf on himself,” Tyler said.

I put my arms around Hunter and he just leaned into me like dead weight. Poor little fellow.

“All right, now,” I said, “Miss Katherine actually baked some cookies for y’all.” I held Hunter back and looked into his eyes. “Do you think your tender constitutions can handle warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk?”

“I can,” Tyler said.

“I’ll try,” Hunter said.