Page 20 of The Shell Collector
“Too many cookies.”
“What? Have you been sneaking my cookies?” she pretended to be mad.
“No, I ate Sissie’s.”
She glanced over at Hailey. “He didn’t steal them. I let him have them.”
Amanda picked up an imaginary gavel. “I release you from jail.” She banged the gavel three times, then pretended to toss it over her shoulder. “You are free to roam the yard.”
He lifted his hands in the air, then took a lap around the grass.
She picked up the framed wire, pleased with the results. “Y’all can help me hang it.”
They followed her inside like baby ducks on a windy day, rushing to keep up with her.
She held the frame up to the blank wall near the door. “What do you think?”
“Okay,” Jesse said.
“It needs a picture.” Hailey pulled her hands to her hips.
“Well, I thought we could turn this into a project. Once a week we can cut herbs, tie them with pretty ribbons, and hang them here to dry.”
“So, then we can make yummy salts?”
“Exactly. Or with the lavender, we could make potpourri so everything smells pretty.”
“I love that.”
“I’ll teach you both how to tie a bow too.”
“Yes.” Jesse fist-pumped. Oh how Jack would’ve loved Jesse’s spunk. It may have been the product of too much television early on, but now that they were at the beach, there was a whole lot less television—proving Jesse’s personality was growing and he was more like Jack all the time.
Amanda lifted the frame into place, then positioned the kids below it, letting them steady it above their heads. They looked like they were in a lineup. She marked the spot for a couple of nails. It was nice that the wood lap of this old house made for easier hanging than the crummy drywall at the old house. She tapped in two nails, then hung the frame. Shabby chic was definitely becoming her thing, and she wasn’t about to apologize for it.
Smiling at the memory, Amanda hung some of the fresh herbs on the frame. Clipped together there, they should dry quickly. She hadn’t worked on a new combination for her salts in a while. With all the plants she was growing, she was motivated to get started again even though the business had flopped before she ever got it underway.
Savory thyme, oregano, basil, and the teeniest bit of rosemary filled the room with a pleasing aroma. Changing one element made a completely different experience. Not just the scent, but the taste too.
She treated each combination as an experiment, carefully cataloging every measurement and result. She loved the scientific part of it. Coming up with recipes was just as much fun, although Hailey and Jesse didn’t really have the adult palette she needed for input.
She spread out the leftover clippings on her cutting board. Then she took the mortar and pestle Jack had given her for Mother’s Day the year Hailey was born, and she ground the mixture of herbs. There was an art to knowing how much to mix them. In the beginning she’d pulverized them, thinking they needed to almost dissolve into the mixture, but they lost their aroma and flavors that way. She closed her eyes, enjoyingthe sound of the tool against the mortar. She inhaled, adding a sprig of this, a leaf of that, until she stumbled upon just the right mix.
Working the herbs into the salt was her favorite part. She let the new combination rest while she neatened the house to prepare for another day tomorrow. After stacking the books on the coffee table, she picked up the small hardbound one that her friend Ginny had sent her after they’d buried Jack. She still hadn’t read it. She should, if for no other reason than that her friend spent her hard-earned money on it. Amanda opened the front cover and read the inscription written inside.
Amanda,
I have no idea what to say or possibly do to help make this okay for you. It’s heartbreaking. I’m grasping at straws here. I hope there is one tiny soothing moment amidst these pages somewhere that you can cling to. One breath of solace at a time.
I’m so sorry this happened to you.
I’m always just a phone call away. Any hour. Anytime.
Ginny
Amanda folded the cover against the inscription. She’d read that note countless times since Jack died, but it read differently tonight.It didn’t happen to me; it happened to Jack. I was just collateral damage.Broken, and she would never be the same.
“Be grateful,”Mom had said after reading an article about the healing powers of gratitude. Everyone had an answer, something to try. It was exhausting, really.
