Page 94 of Ardently Yours

Henry leans against the back of my head, nearly hysterical with giggles. “You can’t see anything.”

I reach around with one arm and give him a twist until he’s hanging upside down, his hands clinging to my calf. “Nice try.”

I hold him there with my left arm and toss. “Swish!” Then I flip him back up where he clings around my neck, laughing helplessly.

When I let him down, he reconvenes to discuss strategy with Charlotte.

I motion Bronnie and Gabriel in. “We need to up our game. What have you got?”

When the kids have made their suggestions, I offer my hand. Gabriel slaps his on top of the back of mine, then Bronnie sticks her little hand on top of ours. I count up. “One. Two. Three.”

In unison, we yell, “Kick butt!”

Charlotte laughs and turnsher head to speak out of the corner of her mouth, “I can throw like this, Arden. I’ve been forged in the fires of cornhole hell.”

Bronnie sits on her shoulders with her arms wrapped around her mother’s forehead.

I stride to stand directly behind the cornhole board. “Hit it, Gabriel!”

Gabriel pushes play on the boombox, then he rushes to join me. When a techno pop song blasts through the speakers, Gabriel and I dance.

I don’t generally suck, but I’ve never put this much into it. Gabriel, predictably, is both enthusiastic and managing to stay on beat the entire time.

“Yeah, Gabe. You got the moves,” I say.

I dance my way closer to the board to be sure I’m in Charlotte’s line of sight.

We’ve never had fun like this. It’s a cliché, but it’s as though the boys and I were a jigsaw puzzle. We were missing two critical pieces to make a whole picture.

Charlotte chokes with laughter and bends at the waist, unable to stay upright and reaching up to hold on to Bronnie so she doesn’t lose her balance.

“Throw! Or can’t you handle all this?” I shout.

She firms her expression. I turn my back and shake my ass as she releases. Once more, Charlotte Miller shouts, “Swish.”

“Ican’t believe theywon,” Bronnie laments.

Charlotte had only one bag that didn’t make it in the hole, and Henry is diabolical. He rigged up fishing line tohis beanbags, threaded a pulley system through the cornhole, and dragged every toss unerringly to its destination.

Gabriel throws up his arms. “We need to get our own fishing line next time.”

The lawyer in me had nearly disputed Henry’s tactics. He cheated. Over and over, my brain balked at the strategies we used. This isn’t how we do things, and there are consequences for rule-breakers.

But the game was a hundred times better than if we’d played my version of what cornhole would have looked like with these kids. Henry and Charlotte had howled with glee at the first beanbag he dragged into the hole.

He was proud of himself for figuring out a way that worked within the parameters Charlotte provided. He’s as literal and as much of a stickler as I am.

But in Miller cornhole, interference is not only permitted; it’s encouraged. We made our own rules, according to our goals and values. The only reason for me to fight any of it would have been because I was an inflexible tight ass.

“I think,” Bronnie says, “it’s better to be on Henry’s team instead of against him.”

Don't Dream It's Over

Charlotte

As I shut Bronnie’sbedroom door behind me, Arden pulls Gabriel’s door closed.

“Are the boys asleep?” I whisper.

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