Page 28 of Rubber Duckie Shifter Next Door

“Mom was super brave,” Lisa announces.

“She was.” I smile. “And the power came back a few minutes later. But your mom’s entire essay was gone.”

“Gone?” Lisa gasps.

“All of it?” Anna asks in a small voice.

Even Noah seems invested, and he’s definitely not old enough to understand the importance of college essays. He just loves stories about his mom. All three kids do. Heck, they’d probably be just as enraptured by a story about the time Janey spilled coffee on her shirt.

“Your mom didn’t give up,” I tell them. “She rewrote the entire essay, from scratch.”

They stare at me, wide-eyed, waiting.

“And your dad helped, too.” It had been right after they started dating, and proof she’d finally met the one. “Every few hours, he would drop by with little gifts.”

Noah perks up. “What kind of gifts?”

“Things to help her stay motivated so she could finish that essay. A rose. A poem. A chocolate bar. A bowl of ramen.” I chuckle. “She needed sustenance.”

“Can we have chocolate?” Noah asks.

Lisa perks up. “We need sustenance, too.”

I shake my head. “Not until after dinner.”

Noah pouts. “No fair.”

“You’d spoil your appetite,” Anna tells her siblings.

I smile gratefully at her. “There’s a reason I told you kids this story.” And, note to self, do not tell stories that involve chocolate. “That essay was just like your castle. You’re going to have to redo it. But that’s okay. I know you kids are just like your mom. You’re dedicated and hard-working, and you never give up!”

They all nod emphatically. Look at me knocking this guardian thing out of the water!

“Did Mom get her paper in on time?” Ana asks.

“I actually can’t remember.”

“I bet she did,” Noah says.

“She definitely did,” Lisa says. “Just like we’re going to rebuild this castle and make it even better.”

“I know you can do it,” I tell them, setting aside the parenting book. For now, anyway.

I still miss Janey every day. But the more I talk about her, and the more I share the stories, the less it hurts. Now I can finally smile back at all the wonderful memories we shared. And I can see a part of her in each of her three remarkable kids. Lisa’s fiery confidence reminds me of the way Janey would always walk into a room like she owned it. Anna’s gentle sweetness is the side Janey saved for those closest to her, and Noah’s boundless energy is so like her vibrant spirit.

My heart is full of gratitude for the blessing of having these three kids in my life, each day with them a precious reminder of my best friend.

I wipe away some errant tears—pregnancy really does make you emotional—and listen to the kids debate the best way to rebuild.

They’ve just agreed to take down the roof when the doorbell rings, and Ada’s voice echoes from the kitchen. “Could you get that, Sig? I’m about to take the pie out of the oven.”

The only problem is that Sig is in too precarious a position to shift back. If he does, he’ll end up on top of the castle, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t built to hold a grown man.

Noah lunges toward him, eyes wide. “He’ll crush the castle!”

“Don’t shift,” Lisa shouts.

Anna jumps to her feet. “We’ll get the door,” she cries. “I bet it’s Reaper. And he might be small enough to fit through the door without a rebuild.”