Rachael said, shading her eyes and staring up at the clear blue summer sky, the thready white clouds. She pushed her hair behind her ears, tugged at the skinny braid. “Hard to believe there’s so much actual bad out there in the world.” “I fear bad is rampant in the land,” Jack said. “But it’s not right here, in Uncle Gillette’s world.” “Unlike Uncle Gillette, I never thought of Slipper Hollow as confining, never considered it a place to escape from. It was always a sanctuary, a haven where I’d be safe. Of course, I was a kid. Looking back now, I recognize that Mom was restless, wanted to go out on her own.” He looked at the braid in her hair, plaited closer to her face this morning. When she leaned her head to the side, it cupped her cheek. He said, “I really like the braid.” “What? Oh, thank you. Jimmy liked it, too.” Her voice shook a bit on his name. “For the most part,” Jack said, “I agreed with your father’s politics.” “I did, too. Can you believe Uncle Gillette washed and ironed our clothes?”
