It wasn’t final. It wasn’t punitive.
It was simply the reality of a mother lost inside her own storm.
Ms. Crump had been drowning. And until she found her way back to shore, someone else had to hold the line.
Getting Amayah’s house ready for six more people was an enormous task. She had space in her attic that was half finished when she bought the house. But she never thought she’d need to use it.
Now she did.
The first step had been having her HVAC guy come and make the space climate controlled. Then she’d added a stable, secure staircase. Then they’d put in a floor and dry wall. They’d painted.
Luke, now jobless, had shown up every day, a stubborn determination to make the space perfect for the kids.
Now two fresh bedrooms sat beneath the sloped ceiling, with warm quilts on the beds, soft lighting, and little touches Amayah had scavenged from thrift shops and hardware stores.
Luke had helped with everything.
In the time since he’d left his job at the paper, life had changed for him. He was working on setting up a podcast that would allow him to share the news stories he wanted to work on.Amayah was helping him. However, building a fan base would take time.
In the meantime, Miranda had approached him about doing some work for her, and Luke was considering the offer. He’d also taken on some freelance work.
Amayah knew in her gut that everything would work out for him. He was a good writer—a good journalist—with a clear path in front of him.
And then there was Linda.
When Amayah had learned how hard Linda was pushing Luke to do this article, she’d done some research.
She’d discovered that the reporter she’d had fired after that slanderous article had been one of Linda’s proteges. Linda had been furious over what had happened, and she’d held it against Amayah. She’d been looking for just the right opportunity to teach Amayah a lesson.
That was when she got the idea for an article using the influencer angle. She’d seen an eagerness in Luke to get ahead in his career and pushed him to do the piece.
Linda still remained at the paper. She hadn’t been fired. Amayah had no plans of trying to get her fired.
Because what Linda did said a lot more about Linda than it did anyone else. She was a woman who’d reached the height of her success years ago, and now she was scrambling to feel relevant.
Amayah glanced over at Luke as he put together a toy for Maisie—a dollhouse. He caught Amayah watching him and gave a small smile.
She sat beside him to see if he needed help.
“I posted the piece about community foster initiatives yesterday,” he told her as he snapped another pink piece in place. “It’s already getting traction.”
“I knew it would. You’re finally writing what you were made to write.”
He held her gaze a second longer than necessary, gratitude and something deeper flickering there.
A knock sounded at the door.
Eli’s head popped over the stairwell. “Someone’s here!”
“Who could this be?” Luke asked. “Are you expecting someone?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” Amayah glanced at Luke. Then she hurried over and opened the door just as a gust of wind blew snow across the porch.
He froze when he saw who was outside.
Luke’s parents stood on the steps—bundled in coats, cheeks pink from the cold, his mother holding a dish of something warm and his father carrying a stack of wrapped gifts.
“Hi, sweetheart,” his mom said with a smile. “We thought . . . maybe this was the year to come to you.”
