Entirely

LEGAL

SPEAK

This is a work of fiction, which means none of it is real. Names, including yours, characters that sound like you, businesses you’ve patronized, places you’ve seen—even in your dreams—events you thought you told me about and incidents you know you told me about, are either the products of the author’s screwed-up imagination and/or used in a fictitious manner. (Who knew it sounded like that one place from that one time? Honestly, it’s the last time I let anyone talk me into a cross country road trip again.) Any resemblance to actual persons (it’s still not you), living or dead, or actual events (it really wasn’t that one time all those years ago) is purely coincidental. Swear. I promise.

Copyright © 2019 by Arie Hill.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Scripture quotations are by New American Standard Bible,

Copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995

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Cover Image is courtesy of Priscilla Du Preez.

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This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, PO Box 1866, Mountain View, CA 94042, USA.

DEDICATION

For those of us wondering if God hears what we don’t say when we pray.

Sunday

~Week 1~

This is your Sunday evening reminder that you can handle whatever this week throws at you.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I? Deandra Michelson handed another list over to her best friend, Serafina Perkins. I’m just worried, and when I get worried, I plan things out.

Serafina looked from the small stack of five-by-seven notepaper to the laminated calendar color-coded per child. They say information is power. A tentative smile broke the tension between them. Is it laminated so the tears roll of easier? The sound of creaking plastic issued a frown from Deandra as Serafina bent it.

That’s your holy grail, Fin. You need that to survive in this house. Deandra reiterated as she pointed to the calendar. Everett and I are going to be at the hospital all day and I need to know you can take care of everything around here without much help from me.

I’ve got this, D. I’m just trying to break the tension. Serafina rubbed her best friend’s forearm as she looked back over the lists. Of course, finding out your children are medicated helps. Tearing the list out of her hand, Deandra glared at her.

My children are not medicated. This is for allergies, headaches, and illnesses.

Uh-huh. Is that why your medicine cabinet is so big? Serafina pointed to the cupboard closing one eye to focus her attention better.

"I keep all of my medications in that cabinet." Deandra straightened the stack of papers by tapping them on the table. Having pity on the mother of four, she opted for a serious subject.

How is Edith doing? My small group is praying for her. Everett’s mother, Edith Michelson, landed in the hospital with a mystery disease a month ago. They’d gone through the cancer scare, the rare cancer scare, and had moved onto auto-immune diseases, without landing on a diagnosis that was either specific or lasting. Her Alzheimer’s hadn’t helped matters, but ensured someone from the family had to stay with her at all hours. Jack Michelson, her husband, kept vigil and each of the Michelson children committed to two-week stints to help give him a break.

They are going back to the drawing board with their ideas. This week is another round of testing. Thank you for praying, Fin, and thank your group for us.

Of course, D. Taking the notes from her hands, Serafina shuffled the paper. Which of these lists is really necessary?

They’re all necessary, Fin. Serafina pulled the notes away when Deandra tried to reach for them.

Yes, but if you could pick three— Fanning them out, she waggled her eyebrows like the notes were trading cards and she was trying to offload her stock.

Three? Fin, you have to do all of the work that’s listed on there. Deandra tried to grab the stack from her hand, but Serafina was still too quick.

D, that’s not humanly possible. No one can do, or know, all of this and survive. Turning the notes to see the writing, she shook her head. You have a list for the animals. You don’t have animals.

The kids have fish and a hamster. Reaching again, she wasn’t fast enough. They’re in some sort of cage or aquarium in their room.

I have a list of approved friends. Serafina’s eyebrows raised to the heavens in a feigned judgment.

I don’t want to take away socializing from the kids, and I don’t want you calling me to make sure every friend is someone they should hang out with. Deandra sighed as she tucked her failed sticky fingers under her chin.

Honey, we’re home. Deandra’s face lit up with her husband’s voice. Without waiting, she escaped the chair and Serafina’s teasing. Skimming each paper, Serafina struggled to not panic. Emergency numbers, insurance info, and a list of bedtime requirements were rooted in colorful allocations. If all of the listed information was essential to the running of the household, Serafina wondered when she’d have time for her work. As an author, she worked from home and had her own list of deadlines to complete before the week was out.

How was she going to manage the Michelson family as well?

The television blared in the living room. Ashland their fifteen-year-old son, took up the entire couch, while ten-year-old Brody hung off their recliner. Martina, who was twelve, was awkwardly bent in a poor excuse for a pretzel, and Jasmine, who was nine, colored an adult coloring book next to a bucket full of markers. They didn’t look like they needed to keep up with fifty-thousand lists. As long as they were fed, safe, and sleeping well, did the rest matter?

Her eyes fell to the list of animals. Deandra would blame her for the rest of her life if even a gold fish died.

Lord, what did I get myself into?

Serafina, Everett brought her attention to the company walking around the corner from the front door. This is Caleb, pointing to the younger man first, he stepped forward. Blond hair set him apart from his older copy. Decorated with his father’s thick eyebrows, almond eyes, and tight smile, he came to his father’s shoulder. He’s on the football team with Ash. Caleb, this is Ms. Serafina.

Nice to meet you. A deeper voice than Serafina expected rumbled out of him.

It’s lovely to meet you, Caleb.

Ash’s on the couch in front of the television, by the way. Caleb thanked Everett before walking around their party. Corbin, this is Serafina.

He’s your help. Deandra said with a smile, the tension from their conversation leaving her eyes. Serafina couldn’t decide if he was tall, or if there was something about him that expanded as he stood before the archway. A shock of dark hair stood straight up as if he pulled his hair up by the roots and it stuck that way. Where innocent friendliness opened up Caleb’s expression, responsibility and maturity closed up Corbin’s. His heavy eyebrows were dropped a little lower, and lines settled into his face from all the experience he endured. A full beard covered the bottom of his face, but strangely exhibited a thick lower lip. Perfect for chewing.

Chewing her own lip in silent chastisement for her unexpected observation, she took a step toward the outstretched hand with a tight smile.

Nice to meet you, Ms. Serafina. The same rumble she heard from the son emitted from the father, but with a more developed, raspy sound. Corbin shook her hand gently, but his eyebrows raised at her grip.

Unsure how tall, dark, and handsome was going to help her, unless he was holding the notes while she read them, she smiled politely. At least he was pretty to look at. Circumventing the edge of the table, Deandra took her place opposite of her. Everett took the head, and Corbin came to sit beside Deandra. With the natural light playing over Corbin’s face, she could see his eyes were a kaleidoscope of grey. The exact color of his hair ranged from black to red to gold as it shimmered when he moved. A beauty mark claimed his left cheek over his beard.

The perfect mark turned away from her. His eyes claimed her in the way all trouble-makers were usually caught. With a raised eyebrow and a knowing look.

Shall we get started? Everett’s rich voice cut through Serafina’s study, and she turned to watch him instead.

Sunday Afternoon

Deandra and I would like to thank you both for being willing to help us out. It means so much. Everett squeezed his wife’s hand. Corbin turned away from the woman who openly stared at him to look at his best friend. Though he tried to hide it, worry filtered through in Everett’s mannerisms. His nails were bit to the quick, and his smile was perpetually pasted to his face. We wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you.

Deandra reached for a pile of notes in the center of the table, and passed them out. The schedule and lists of dos and don’ts were there for discussion. Pointing out the schedule, she pointed out the legend located at the bottom. Each child was assigned a color, and that color filled in the schedule with an activity.

We are going to take the kids to school on our way to the hospital every morning. If one of you could pick them up, and one of you make meals—

I’ll be the taxi. Corbin lifted his hand swiftly. Smiling in triumph at the shock on Serafina, he wiggled his fingers for good measure.

Hey, why do I have to make the meals? I can ferry children around. Serafina put a hand to her generous chest. Corbin shrugged, hiding the playful need to say, I called it first. There was something about the stench of worry that brought out the most kiddish behavior from him. He blamed it on his stint in the Marines. Coping in the harshest of environments always required a bit of infantile humor.

It’s why they call it the infantry.

Muzzling his laughter and his immaturity, he gave a real reason.

I will already be out of the house, he shrugged as if it answered every problem they had. I’ll leave from the office to pick up the children and bring them here.

Wonderful, Deandra settled the matter for them. Then Serafina, you’ll cook. Passing over a brightly decorated three-ring binder, Recipes covered the front in a careful script. These are the recipes all of the family loves without complaint. Every recipe laminated and separated by dividers told Corbin he’d narrowly missed stepping on a landmine.

What? No Taco-Tuesdays or Spaghetti Saturdays? Serafina deadpanned at the book as she flipped through it. The sun shone through the window behind her giving her a halo of heat around her head, not quite red, not quite blonde. Thin eyebrows pinched together as she skimmed every sheet and moved onto the next.

You two can fight about who gets to take which child to which activity if it makes you feel any better. Corbin’s eyes skipped to the laminated monstrosity Deandra referred to as the Holy Grail. There were very few spaces not filled in with activities.

You’re right, D. Serafina what’s-her-face said with a broad smile. Everything in Corbin ran cold at the sight of it. Corbin can be the taxi both weeks, for every outing. Angry he’d been outsmarted, but not wanting her to know it, he smiled at her as if he’d gotten his way. When her smile didn’t falter, but turned into a grimace, he knew he’d gotten to her.

Great, with that settled, we can move on. Deandra ignored the game the two adults quietly played with a look to Everett. Without words exchanged, the frown Everett gave Corbin told him they weren’t exactly pleased with the dynamic between him and Serafina. Serafina is sleeping in the only guest room.

And we want to invite you and Caleb to sleep here during the next two weeks, Everett added. Caleb can sleep in Ash’s room, and you can have our very spacious couch bed. Everett’s smile was more of a wince, but Corbin wiped it away with a hand.

We’ll take you up on it. With all of the driving I’m going to have to do over the day, Corbin flicked his eyes to Serafina who smiled unrepentantly. One less stop will be appreciated.

Excellent. Well, I bet everyone’s starving. Deandra pushed away from the table. Will you help me, Fin? Corbin tracked his babysitting partner as she moved around the kitchen. Away from the sun, her hair maintained its indecisive color, and hung in a thick braid down to her waist. The pale skin of her face was slashed up the center with a rose-gold Milky Way of freckles.

Dude, what’s up with you? Everett tilted his head to capture Corbin’s attention. Dashing his eyes toward the island counter where Serafina stood with her back to him, he raised his eyebrows toward his hairline. Gratified to see the worry wiped off Everett’s face, Corbin made a snap decision. If his friend needed this as a distraction from what he faced in the morning, he didn’t mind playing the fool.

Nothing. What? Shrugging, he moved to sit on the other side of the table while talking to Everett.

This, Everett tapped the table in front of him. Why did you switch seats?

So I can hear you better. Elbow on the table, he leaned toward Everett. Smacking him away, Everett scoffed.

"Please, it’s so you can see her better?" He tilted his head towards Serafina who turned to the cupboard for something.

Well, she’s not ugly. Corbin slid his eyes from her sandals up to the top of her hands as she stretched to reach the bowls from the third shelf. Smooth skin filled the gap between her sandals and her shorts, while the cable of her braid hung over her other curves. He wasn’t sure if it was to distract from the shape of her, or as a matador’s cape tempting the bull.

That might be a problem. Everett mumbled loud enough Corbin blinked to break her spell.

For you maybe, Corbin got up. Excuse me. Walking up behind her, he leaned over her. Reached passed her. Doing his best to keep his front from pressing against her back, Corbin caught the hint of a heady floral scent mixed with a fruity sweetness. The temptation of gardenias and strawberries wafting through her hair had him pressing closer, but was countered by her loud huff.

Need help? His proffered reason for why he was so close was punctuated by placing the bowls on the counter before her. Turning her tiny face upwards, he noticed what he couldn’t discern before. A dark and rich blue, her eyes matched the color of the Atlantic Ocean under stormy skies. The frown of her thin mouth darkened them more.

I didn’t ask. Her husky voice stopped him from stepping away immediately.

Just wanted to be helpful, Partner. Her eyes darted to his lips, transmogrifying her frown into disgust.

What is this? The Wild West?

Kids, wash up for dinner. Deandra called out breaking the bubble she cast around him. Can you set the table, you two? Deandra waved them off like errant children.

Did you hear that tone? Serafina narrowed her eyes at him conspiratorially. He nodded once unsure of what was coming next. That’s because you pissed her off. Shock stabbed him between the eyes sending his eyebrows to his hairline for cover.

I pissed her off? He pressed a hand to his chest. Are you kidding me? I wasn’t the one who teased her about her notes. Serafina’s mouth dropped open. You know how touchy she is about that. Tsking with his tongue against his teeth, he shook his head.

Folding the napkins in a huff, he noticed the scanty smile playing around her lips. She folded the napkins with a press of her nail against the crease, and he weighed it down with the cutlery.

Following her around the table, her light fragrance beckoned him with invisible fingers. Her sarcasm tickled him. Her unyielding strength denied him. Serafina Whatever-Her-Name was a perfect dichotomy of something else. The lucky woman executed what most could not: Secure his unmitigated attention. What started as a way to keep Everett from drowning in worry, became something infinitely more intriguing.

A puzzle to solve.

Monday

~Week 1~

May your coffee be strong and your Monday be short.

MONDAY MORNING

Serafina threaded a loose braid into her hair with her eyes closed. Running her tongue over her teeth, she could tell she brushed them already, but couldn’t separate the dream from reality. Looking down confirmed she wore clothes, and not her pajamas which helped her check off the next item on her to-do list.

If she hadn’t spent her precious hours of sleep consoling a nervous mother, life would have been a little easier with the dawn. Unfortunately, somewhere in their long history, Serafina screwed up royally enough for Deandra to believe she was incapable of feeding and ferrying her children across town in a timely manner. She wouldn’t have taken it seriously, if Deandra hadn’t have said it forty-three hundred times.

I’m sorry, Fin. I’m just scared. I keep praying and praying for God to heal Edith and send her home. Then I can send you home, and life would be back to normal. A blurry smile pressed through as Serafina passed over the tissues promising to do her best. The tight nod Deandra gave assured Serafina her best just wasn’t good enough.

Leaning her head against the door, Serafina allowed Deandra’s fears to sweep over her. The Michelson children were precious and she understood just how carefully constructed their routine was. With rough seas ahead, the name of the game was adapt and survive, and if Deandra needed Serafina to play by the rules to keep her from worrying what went on in the house, she would.

Just as soon as she had coffee.

At least two cups.

Maybe three with the idea of all the cooking she was expected to do.

Good morning, Partner. Flicking her eyes up sent the scorching kitchen light into her retinas, and she flinched like a vampire. Looks like you’ve had a rough night.

Twisting away from the brightness, she shaded her eyes with her hands and grumbled about the fifty ways she could kill a man with her coffee cup. Pouring a mug, she stood to the side of the sink to drink in peace.

You’re creative in the morning. His warm rasp curled around her as she pretended to ignore him. Using a man’s dirty underwear as a filter for his coffee in the morning is just cruel.

But effective. She sighed with a tilt of her head. The window over the sink painted the sky in a grey dawn, and didn’t hold back the incessant bird noises calling from the surrounding trees.

You drink it black like that? Turning her head, but not her body, she gave in to the reality Beard Man wouldn’t be shutting up any time soon.

Scared I’m more of a man than you? Her