To Sing Frogs Chapter 39c

Our new three-story home was built into the side of a knoll, allowing ground access from each of the first two levels on opposite sides of the house. It was originally planned as a two-level dwelling but my siblings and I had imposed on my parents enough to convince them to have their home “under” mine. It was simply for convenience as they continued to age. Gray architectural coins on corners accented archways and walls of light brown brick. A trinity of bay windows were joined together in one vertical assembly. The largest sat at the bottom of the trio. The top window was the smallest, though each was equally important for their mutual purpose. Brilliant copper that flashed almost blindingly in the face of the sun crowned each of the three providers of light.

Sarah was convinced it was another castle. The home was situated on lower foothills overlooking the Kamas Valley with incredible views from every window in the house, including those on the lowest level. Nothing could have been further from dormitories in orphanages half a world away.

The new house allowed us to spread out. The worst of the behaviors that followed our final adoption had now left the home.

When officials in the state of Utah refused to follow laws, they gambled and won. Even if I followed through on my threats to sue the state, they wouldn’t be forced into compliance in time to help with our oldest daughter. They thumbed their noses at me. Finally, a sympathetic detective approached me on the sly. She explained that the only way to get the state to help would be to prosecute our oldest daughter for a felony. If she was convicted, the state would have no choice.

Feelings of guilt riddled our family when they locked up that girl who was only the way she was because of what others had done to her. Amy and I continued to visit and to be “Mom and Dad.” The psychologist for the younger children explained that they would not be able to handle contact with her until things changed. We all knew that might never happen. The younger children were now concerned that they could lose their home based on behavior. Confidence was shredded.

Mike was only with us in the new home for a month before departing for his mission. It seemed too soon for people living in our home to be diminishing in such a way. I guess at some point all parents must feel like that.

The transcontinental move of the family business had been completed the autumn before; long enough to have everything back in order. Being settled in the new home helped too. As a surprise for Amy, I had brought in souvenirs from Rio de Janeiro and secretly overrode her plain, cost-saving designs of the master bath. She squealed with surprise when the contractor finally let her back into the room and showed her the floor with irregular black and white tile pieces patterned after the wave designs on sidewalks bordering Copacabana Beach. It’s amazing what beauty can emerge from shattered fragments.

Renaissance styled maps on antiqued leather graced walls along with wood carved hangings of rural settings in old Brazil. The corner above the large jetted tub had live plants tapering up to a shelf near the ten-foot ceiling. A small replica of Cristo Redentor, the world-famous statue that stands on Corcovado Mountain overlooking Rio, topped it. The toilet was sequestered off behind its own door, leaving the total effect of a beach. It was all finished off with a hammock styled chair swinging next to the large walk-in shower.

A shadowbox of Brazilian butterflies was hung over the mirrors. That symbol was for me rather than my wife though I didn’t tell her.

“I thought you might need to go to the beach once in a while,” I said while holding my palm out toward the woven rope swing.

“Can I sit in it?” she asked with a grin that filled her face.

“Of course! What good is a hammock chair you can’t swing in?”

Amy hurried over, grabbed the white cotton ropes and eased herself in to the cradling sling. She sighed as she gently pushed her feet against the tile, beginning a rocking motion. “It’s like a dream,” she said while scanning the artwork hung on sky-blue walls. “I didn’t know if our home would ever feel like this again.”

“I knew you wouldn’t settle until it did.”

Amy just smiled as the swing rocked back and forth. I knew she was thinking about all of the scriptural references of people who had sacrificed and been rewarded with more than had been required of them. She seemed so secure, so happy, and so content. Her face glowed. She didn’t have to say the words. It was worth it.

 

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