Two sleeping bags were spread out on the long, ancient couch that rested against the wall of the family room. Hannah was in one, her head at the left armrest, and Isaac was in the other with his head at the opposite end. Though they were both too tall to avoid each other’s legs they’d set aside their usual “He’s touching me! She touched me first!” arguments with their excitement of being able to sleep there instead of in their beds. That they were excited at all was a true credit to their youth. Between the two of them, balanced awkwardly on the shifty-slippery surfaces of the sleeping bags, sat a game of Go Fish halfway through destroying Isaac’s pride for a third time that night. Randy was curled into a black leather recliner that Lyle knew from personal experience could kill any resolve
