Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
“The gate is done,” Shaun said, his foot tapping a quiet rhythm against the linoleum. “It won’t swing open even in a hard wind.”
“Thank you, Shaun,” I said.
“I’m going to take the truck and pick up the rest of the boxes from the storage unit before the rain starts,” he said, checking his watch. “We should have everything out of there by five.”
“I can help,” I said, half rising from my chair.
“You stay here with the babies,” Shaun said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Martha and I have it covered.”
By the afternoon, the heat of the summer day had softened, and we carried the triplets out to the backyard. Shaun had spread the blue quilt under the deep shade of the old oak tree that stood near the center of the lawn.
I sat on the edge of the blanket, watching Bodhi crawl toward a yellow dandelion in the grass. He reached out with one finger, touching the bright petals with a look of quiet concentration.
