Free Mom Over Miami by Annie Jones

wonderful children.”
    He didn’t say a word to that, but concern colored his expression.
    She read the story of Hannah’s prayer for a child and of Eli the priest hearing Hannah’s grief and telling her to “go in peace.”
    “Like you again,” Sam pointed out.
    “Uh-huh.” Hannah shifted in the beanbag and read on about Hannah having a son, concluding with 1 Samuel1:20. “‘…and gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel, saying, “Because I asked the Lord for him.”’”
    “That’s not like you.” This time the child spoke so softly she hardly heard him.
    But his words imprinted on her heart.
    Not so hard to do on a heart already tender from years of holding on to the very same pain—the fear of being unwanted. But Sam was not unwanted. And certainly not unloved.
    “I love you, Sam,” she murmured, pulling him into a hug. “It’s true I didn’t ask God to send you to me. But I did ask Him to give me a family—and here you are.”
    “Me and Tessa,” he said.
    Ooooh, how she knew that tone. The double-edged emotions of sharing a parent’s love. Did she have to tackle the issue of sibling rivalry right now?
    Sam provided her answer. He squirmed out of her arms, grumbling something about not getting all girly on him.
    The moment had passed.
    Sam leapt up and pointed to the Bible. “Did this help you with your procrastination yet?”
    “Yes, it helped me procrastinate quite a bit.” She shut the Bible and set it on the cardboard box they were using for an end table. “But in a good way, at least.”
    “Do you know what you’re going to write about now?”
    “Nope. Maybe I just need something interesting to happen around here to get my creative juices flowing.” She stood up and rubbed her hands together like some madplotter. “And it had better happen soon, before Tessa wakes up from her morning nap.”
    Tessa was a world-class nap taker. Hannah’s sister Sadie told her to think of it as a blessing, but then Sadie didn’t have to plan her day around a baby who was four hours awake for every one hour asleep during the day. Then reverse that in the night. The whole thing had Hannah near the brink of exhaustion. Which wouldn’t be a big deal if she didn’t keep taking on new projects that pushed her over the edge.
    Which reminded her—
    “I didn’t finish frosting the cake yet. Mrs. Faison will be here in less than—”
    Ding-dong .
    “A minute?” she finished. She checked her clock. Almost an hour ahead of the time she’d said she’d drop by. Maybe the world’s most perfect mom did have a flaw after all— she showed up too early at places .
    Okay, as flaws went, it didn’t rank up there with things like cussing, barroom brawling and wearing white after Labor Day. But it did show a chink in the other woman’s armor and eased Hannah’s apprehensions a tad as she said, “You let Mrs. Faison in, Sam, and I’ll straighten up in here.”
    Sam took off for the front door.
    Hannah glanced around the room with nothing in it but beanbags, a box and a Bible. Just to make herself feel like she’d done as she’d promised, she fluffed the bags, then stood back and eyed the effect with much satisfaction. “There. All done.”
    Sam put his hand on the doorknob and looked back at her.
    She held up a finger to ask him to hold off unleashing Supermom into her home for one moment and made a mad dash for the kitchen.
    “Now!” She gave the go-ahead even as she wriggled into her chef’s apron, grabbed a cake spatula and pulled from the middle shelf of the fridge the tub of icing she’d mixed up earlier.
    She heard the door creak as Sam eased it open.
    Hannah took a deep breath and smiled. She’d heard that people could tell if you were smiling when you talked even if they couldn’t see you. So Hannah smiled real big and said, “Come on in. You’re just in time to lick the bowl!”
    “That’s just dandy, lady,” a gruff male voice boomed through the wide-open spaces of her home.