Leah had met Tess almost ten years before. At the time, Leah had been navigating her first year of teaching, and Tess had been volunteering for the PTA at Leah’s school. When Tess realized that Leah was a teenager tasked with the job of raising her younger brother, she’d taken Leah under her wing.
A few times a week, Tess had stopped by Leah’s classroom to help out and to deliver batches of homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Eventually, Tess started inviting Leah and Dylan to her home for Sunday lunch after church. In return, Leah invited them to Dylan’s Pee Wee football games and school events. When the couple had shown up at those events, she’d been overwhelmed with gratitude, knowing that when her brother looked into the audience, he’d see more than one person there to support him.
Once, when Leah mentioned to Tess that she planned to spend the weekend painting a bedroom, Tess and Rudy had appeared on her doorstep with roller brushes and paint pans.
They played dominoes with Dylan and Scrabble with Leah. Tess gave Dylan practical gifts like coats. Rudy gave Dylan impractical gifts like Nerf guns.
Over time, Leah had come to trust Tess and Rudy enough to let them babysit Dylan, which had opened up Leah’s world a little. She’d been able to go out in the evenings with friends, take part in occasional chess competitions, or go hiking alone. To this day, they were the ones who stayed with Dylan on the rare occasions when she went out of town.
God had known she and Dylan needed grandparents, and He’d provided Tess and Rudy. They were the ones who had shown her—more than anyone else ever had—what it looked like to love through action.
“I suggest you take your sister up on her offer of tutoring,” Tess said to Dylan.
Dylan made a noncommittal sound and helped himself to another slice of pepperoni with veggies.
“What’s going on with football?” Rudy asked, clearly eager to talk about sports, something that interested him a mile more than math.
“Nothing much.”
“Do elaborate, dear brother, and tell us how we can become patrons of your football success!”
“Right now, we’re lifting weights and getting ready for a seven-on-seven scrimmage.”
It was as if Dylan’s every word were a pearl dropping into midair that she, Tess, and Rudy were doing their best to catch.
“We’re looking forward to your games this fall.” Tess speared a bite of salad. “We’ll be there to cheer you on.”
“You bet we will,” Rudy added happily. “Let me know if you need a ride to practice or summer school.” For years, Rudy and Tess had served as Dylan’s faithful cab drivers.
“Thanks,” Dylan replied.
“He drives his own car now,” Tess reminded her husband, then expelled an impatient sigh. Tess communicated most of her feelings through sighs.
A year and a half ago, when Dylan had turned sixteen, Mom had sent two thousand dollars to him for a car. They’d bought a small blue pickup truck.
“Oh, sure!” Rudy pretended he hadn’t forgotten. As was typical, he responded to Tess’s scolding like an amiable golden retriever. “But if it breaks down or something, I want him to know he can call me.”
This was a second marriage for both Tess and Rudy. Tess and her first husband had divorced. Rudy’s first wife had died. They’d married each other twenty-five years ago, when Tess was fifty-six and Rudy fifty-eight. Shortly after, they’d bought a vacation cabin in Misty River.
When Leah decided that she needed to move Dylan out of Gainesville, Tess and Rudy had encouraged them to move here. Leah had done so, and now the older couple spent the bulk oftheir year in Misty River, too. Tess had one son, and Rudy had two daughters. Combined, they had several granddaughters, but all their children and grandchildren lived out of state.
“Is the truck running well?” Rudy asked Dylan.
“Yeah.”
“How’s everything with your friends?” Leah asked.
“Good.”
“Really? No drama?”
“No.”
“Are you being cyberbullied?” Leah asked, only half kidding.
He snorted. His liquid chocolate eyes blazed disbelief. “No.”
“Busy trying to order prescription painkillers through the mail?”
