Free Yours, Mine & Ours by Jennifer Greene

time.”
    â€œJust go to the bathroom and we’ll talk about it later.”
    When Teddy headed into the house, Amanda jumped up and started heaping dishes back in the picnic basket. Her daughter was trying to engage Mike in a further discussion of sex and puppies—Molly had a backbone of steel, and when she wanted something, such as puppies, she could be relentless.
    There’d be another chance. Hopefully. Maybe. Conceivably. But right now, keeping the kids togetherany longer was like rubbing poison ivy on bare skin. The gathering tonight needed a fast curtailment. Amanda figured that the faster they got out of there, the better.
    â€œSo,” Molly continued to grill Mike, “how come people have babies? How come people can’t have puppies instead?”
    A crash from just inside the house startled the three of them. Mike shot out of his seat, and Amanda was right behind him. Crashes and four-year-olds were never a good sign.

Chapter Five
    A manda only had to step into Mike’s living room to grasp the big picture. Near the fireplace, a table lamp had fallen to the ground, its shade askew, its lightbulb and ceramic base in pieces. A tennis ball was in sight. And Teddy was standing in the bathroom doorway. The instant he heard his dad bang through the screen door, he started crying.
    â€œIt wasn’t me, Dad! I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!”
    Amanda watched Mike charge over to his son—initially, she was unsure whether he was angry or annoyed or frustrated. But his response conveyed none of those things. He just swiftly scooped up his son and lifted him away from the sharp shards.
    Teddy heaved sobs in between extensive explanations to his dad.
    â€œIt was a woman who did it. She came in the front door. I said who are you and you’d better get out of here. But she picked up Slugger’s ball and threw it at the lamp just like that. I couldn’t stop her. I wasn’t strong enough. I said, I’m going to get my dad! But then she ran away! It wasn’t me, Dad! It was her! The woman!”
    Mike set his son on a chair—firmly—with a glance at Amanda.
    â€œWhere’s your broom or vacuum?” she asked.
    â€œI’ll take care of it.”
    â€œI’m telling you the truth, Dad. She had yellow hair. And she was tall. And she had a big purse. And big, big, big earrings.”
    â€œTeddy,” Mike said quietly, sternly. “Your mother was not here.”
    â€œIt wasn’t my mother. It was just a woman who looked like her. And had earrings like her. I told her and told her, go away and I’ll call my dad. But she still just picked up Slugger’s ball…”
    Amanda figured it was an ideal time to tiptoe away. She grabbed Molly and the picnic basket and took off for home.
    It was another four hours before she could call the day quits. All through the kitchen cleanup and story reads and putting Molly to bed, she kept thinking about Mike—about how he was with his son.
    They both had their share of parenting challenges. But she liked how he’d handled Teddy with gentle, calm firmness. How his first thought was to rescue his son from potential harm, not to scold. And how Teddy showed no fear of his dad, only absolute, secure trust, even when the squirt had been inventing an incredibly wild story and had to know there’d be some punishment for throwing the ball in the house and breaking the lamp.
    She folded the dish towel, poured a glass of sun tea, turned off lights and ambled outside. Instead of choosing a chair or the chaise, she perched on the deck steps.
    The sun had just dropped out of sight, but there was still ample light to see the backyard and the plantings she’d done that morning. Robins pranced in the grass. A dove cooed from the shadows.
    Slowly, the sky deepened, softened, darkened. She sipped her tea, set it down, stretched out her legs, relaxed. Stars popped into the sky, which was hardly a