Page 5 of Spit Screen

Emma shrugs.

“It’s a lot of people,” I remind her.

A lot of people might be an understatement. I take a moment to perform some math in my head. Emma has two brothers, both of whom have two kids. Tam and Christie have a son named Daniel, who is a month younger than Hannah. Jeff and Sandra have a son named Brody, who is not quite a year older than Vicki, and a daughter named Bailey, who is the same age as Hannah and Daniel. Add that to our three, throw in Emma’s folks, and we’ll have thirty-two people in our home! My jaw must be hanging open because Emma’s brow is raised, and she’s smirking at me.

“Just realizing how much our family has grown?” Emma asks.

“Em—”

“I’m sure you’re right. Everyone will want the chance to catch up. And God knows, the kids will want a chance to play together. It’s a holiday meant for barbeques and get-togethers,” Emma says. “Isn’t that why we moved here? To have space from our public life and space for our family?”

“Are you sure you are up to this?” I ask.

“Up to it? I feel great.”

I nod.

Emma smiles. “I know I’ve struggled a little the last few months to accept everything. I told you I never expected to have more children. But growing our family has been the most amazing part of my life, Addy. I guess a little part of me thought—maybe—maybe we would decide totryfor one more. That’s even more reason I want everyone here.”

“You’re the boss.”

“If only.”

“Okay, most days, Vicki is the boss,” I admit.

Emma laughs. “She does take pride in being the older sister. She misses Tam, Addy, and she misses Brody.”

“I know.”

“I miss them all, too.”

Sometimes, when you love someone deeply, it’s hard to see them objectively. It’s like wearing rose-colored glasses that make everything appear perfect. But after living with Emma for so many years, I’ve learned to see her flaws and worries more clearly. We have a deep understanding of each other and can sense when something is bothering the other. I’m unsure if she’s reluctant to tell me what she feels or if she hasn’t figured out what she wants to say.

As Noah becomes more independent, Emma grows increasingly restless. We’re both thankful to have her family living nearby because it allows our children to have a close relationship with their grandparents. But our family extends beyond the borders of Kansas. As she talks about the coming holiday, I realize Emma longs for more than the busy atmosphere of a film set. I sense a change on our horizon. Maybe having everyone in one place will give us the clarity todetermine what we should do or where we should go.Perhaps it willprovide me with the courage to broach the topic with Emma.

I lean close to Emma and kiss her cheek. “Do you want to make the calls?” I ask.

“I’ll make the calls. One condition.”

“Which is?”

“Bring dinner home after you go fishing.”

“What if we don’t catch anything?”

Emma laughs. “I have no desire to cook anything from the pond. You can do that with Dad. Pizza, Addy. Or you and Vicki can make macaroni and cheese for dinner.”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Emma says, placing a kiss on my lips. “And, Addy?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make Vicki bait all the hooks,” Emma says as she walks away.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

I can’t help but chuckle at my children’s amusement with my aversion to baiting a hook. As we sit by the pond, Vicki hands me a wriggling worm and asks if I need help. Memories of being taken fishing and hunting as a child flood back. I recall the feeling of unease in my stomach when it came time to kill our catch. I was much more content observing the deer grazing on the outskirts of the forest or watching the fish swim in the river than I was taking part in their demise. My father would reason if I could eat a burger or chicken without flinching, I should have no issue with hunting and fishing. But even then, I couldn’t shake off my discomfort with taking a life—even of the wriggling worm.

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