“Not at all,” she said honestly. “I couldn't stand to leave you and the children, and now when I'm in the mood, I can join The Boulder Company.”
Boulder had a repertory group which put on a large production every October. The year before Pup had played the heroine. Her monologue, spoken while she'd been tied to the authentic-looking railroad tracks on stage, had moved the audience to hysterical tears. They had talked about it for weeks.
“Come join me,” McKay invited, and Pup moved to the head of the bed and climbed beneath the covers. Her hair was still damp and her cool skin felt wonderful as McKay cuddled her close, his cheek against her hair. There was no need for words. It was a lovely close to the day, but also a normal one. They were a man and woman in love, loved by God, and blessed by Him in an abundance of ways.
Years ago McKay had known that this journey with the wife God had given him would be more than he could ever hope or pray for. And God, who loved to give to His children, had gone far beyond his wildest dreams. If McKay was ever tempted to doubt, he had only to look into his wife's face or the faces of the three children who looked just like her. The truth stared him in the face every day. God had been good to them.