A Little Moonlighting

The only high point had been a call to the hospital that told her Meg and Tim were improving steadily and might be able to take phone calls in another day or two. What a relief it was to know they were probably going to be all right.

But from there on it was all downhill.

The baby woke up fussing and had kept it up all day. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, only wanted to be held and carried around. Amy’s arms still ached from that activity. She’d finally had to put Jillian down, letting her fuss all to herself. But the sound of her wails was like the constant scraping of fingernails across a blackboard and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Luckily, the baby’s crying subsided after a while.

Scamp had decided at breakfast that the only way he wanted to communicate was by barking like a dog from now on. One bark meant yes, two meant no. The trouble was, he loved the barking so much, he usually went on and on until it was darn hard to figure out what he was trying to say. Amy had pretty much given up trying.

She’d tried to lose her cares in laundry work, but someone had left a crayon in a shirt pocket and the entire washload ended up stained with purple streaks by the time she’d pulled it out of the dryer.

“Oh, no,” she moaned, looking at the ruined clothing. There would be no way to hide this. Humiliation was dogging her now.