Cindy wipes her hand on her shirt, re-gripping the phone with a dry hand, “Well, I don’t really know. Josiah pats me on the back and tells me it’s okay. Three years old and he’s already acting like the man of the house. Leah often cries bitterly with me. Right now, they’ve got all the dining room chairs pushed together, pretending it’s a boat. And they’re taking turns wearing the captain hat. I wish I could be like them …I'm not doing well at all.”

Cindy’s words get choked off by more tears.
               
Fernye finds it difficult over the phone, “How about Shannon?”

   Cindy sighs, “I don’t really know.   She seemed to do the best after Stephen disappeared, trying to attach herself to all the joyful things ...the fun, the adventure, the discoveries.  All her focus was on the living aspects of Stephen.  I guess I should be more like her.  I want to be more like her. I want to live the joys of Stephen, not the disappointments.   I think what  I want is to take up writing …supplementing what he'd begun to write.  And I believe what Rebekkah had sent for publication was unfinished.  I don't think he'd be happy with that.  I want to finish writing the book he started.  I want to live all the dreams.  In a couple years we should be moving into the walled community.  I want all that to happen.  I guess Leah shares my tears, Josiah is my comforter, and Shannon is my dreamer.  I don’t really know how Shannon is doing, Grandma.  Even though she had never seemed to get close to him when he was here, it was truly evident that he loved her.  And I’m certain she knows that.  Do you think it’s healthy for her not to shed any tears?”