Homecoming

Where the veil broke, you could see silvery clouds on which tall angels might stand. Not cute little Christmas angels, but high, stern angels in white robes, whose faces were sad and serious from being near God all day and hearing His decisions about the world.

No fish were biting. Not that morning. She heard James calling her with panic in his voice. Slowly, she trudged back to her family. “I told you,” Sammy said to James, “because the fishing line was

They spent almost four dollars on supper at the mall, and none of them had dessert. They had hamburgers and french fries and, after Dicey thought it over, milkshakes.

Dicey felt a great weight settle on her shoulders. She tried to shrug it off, but it wouldn’t move.

He took his time getting to her, as if he was sure she’d wait, sure of his own strength to hold her, even at that distance. He moved like he thought she was afraid of him, too afraid to run.

Throughout the meal, Windy’s voice blew over them, smooth and steady. It didn’t matter what he was saying.

There could be no home for the Tillermans. Home free — Dicey would settle for a place to stay. Stay free.

Out here, there was salt on the wind itself that fell on your skin like rain. You could taste it. Out here the sun heated and the wind cooled, and the waves sang their constant song.

The No filled the whole air of the house. Every time she breathed in she breathed in that No.

He was studying his grandmother, as if he was hungry too, but for something not food, hungry in a way that food could never fill.

She felt funny, strange, making up lies as quickly and smoothly as if she’d been doing it all her life.