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  Dyanne looked around her kitchen, subdued with blues and grays instead of overwhelmed by the life-size family tree covered with children’s names and handprints left by the previous owners. Though most everything had been torn down or covered over, the wacky Christian couple who’d owned the house somehow lingered, as evidenced by Neal’s strange talk about church and her father.

  Sure, Dyanne was excited about the new line. Who wouldn’t be? Christian books were selling like crazy. She’d suggested for years that her publishing house get into the game. She hadn’t counted on becoming the line’s publicist as a result, in addition to dealing with bestselling author Fallon Gray.

  Her boss promised the double duty wouldn’t last long, but Dyanne knew better. Fallon had gone through everyone in the company. She wouldn’t take anyone else. Having hit the New York Times Bestseller list for the first time under Dyanne’s watch, Fallon took her publicist for some kind of genius.

  It didn’t matter anyway. Dyanne had the month off for this move. By the time she went back to work, she’d be pregnant, Neal’s objections aside. Maybe church was just the thing to help make that happen. “Didn’t he say their church was small? Five hundred people?”

  Neal’s hands slid under her blouse as he lifted her into his arms and started out of the kitchen. “Four hundred I think he said. Like the church I grew up in. Maybe we could actually make some friends. Get to know some people for real.”

  Maybe not. Dyanne stared at the hardwood beneath her dangling legs as though it were a raging sea. What was happening to her husband? Reading the books she was working on? Wanting to go to some rinky-dink church and make friends? While they were dating, Dyanne had begged Neal to attend services with her, but Neal made it clear that while he believed in God, he wasn’t going to become some fanatic like her father.

  Instead of sharing their faith, Neal and Dyanne had bonded over their lack of it. Dyanne had missed her church involvement at first, but when she and Neal shared their first raised eyebrow at her father’s rantings, she’d been hooked.

  Everything from there had been about goal setting, hard work and becoming a better person. Becoming the publicity director had taken much of her time, but Dyanne had squeezed in all the seminars and yoga classes Neal thought they should attend. After a while, life had boiled down to getting ahead, though Neal still insisted on recycling and had fought her to the end about the woodstove and the yard. In the end, though, Dyanne always won.

  Until now. Something new was happening with Neal and it wasn’t on her to-do list. She could almost hear her father in her head, trying not to laugh. “Maybe this is a God thing, sugar.”

  Whatever.

  It took longer than usual to rally her anger against the thought of her father. She couldn’t muster her usual rift with God very easily, either. Still, she wasn’t going to end up like her mother, watching while her husband turned and walked away, then later forgiving him when he changed into some Jesus freak. Dyanne had her own thing going now and no matter how weird Neal was acting, she’d find a way to make all of this work—for her and not against her.

  That evening in bed, Neal leaned on one elbow, running a hand through his wife’s hair, which was as straight as the woman next door’s hair was nappy. In the back of her head, though, just above Dyanne’s neck, there was a thatch of curls as thick as his own. He thrust his fingers in deep and made wide circles, knowing it would disappear as soon as Dyanne found a hairdresser that met with her standards. Coordinating the move and flying in to direct the landscapers had made her miss an appointment with her first choice of stylists back in New York.

  She’d looked worried when he reminded her about it, but Neal didn’t care. In fact, Neal thought his wife would be beautiful with a short natural style like the way she’d worn her hair in college, but he knew better than to say so. Dyanne’s hair was a part of her image—pretty and powerful. She admitted to maintaining it for him, too, fearing his head might be turned by some weave-wearing temptress.

  That was college.

  Things had changed. Returning to Tallahassee made Neal realize just how much. Sure he was excited about being around for the annual homecoming game and the alumni events, but the canopy oaks and love bugs reminded him of something else, too: the faith he’d brought from Ohio and easily discarded in his first year on campus.

  He’d talked Dyanne out of church back then, but now he regretted it. His parents were active leaders in the community by the age he was now and all he and Dyanne had been doing was building their own kingdom. The trees that bowed gracefully over his house with open arms reminded Neal of his need for roots and his desire to grow something more than a business. Dyanne wanted to grow something, too, only in her belly instead of her heart.

  A baby.

  Neal wasn’t so sure that either of them was ready for that.

  According to Dyanne, they’d done everything right to prepare for being parents: undergrad together and grad school for him, great jobs, traveling all over the world…. Neal wondered if after conquering him and her job, Dyanne wasn’t just looking for some other box to check off her list. If that was it, as much as he loved his wife, Neal just couldn’t play along. This wasn’t a cappuccino machine or a plasma TV they were talking about but a person. And people needed parents who did more than get on planes and close deals.

  He kissed Dyanne’s hair and rolled over onto his side, reaching under the bed for Living a Life that Counts, the book from the new line he’d been reading. After reading another short but deep chapter, Neal gripped the book’s pages tightly before shoving it under their bed. He laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes for prayer, a habit that had come back to him with an awkward ease.

  God, what am I missing? I have everything I need and most of what I want. But something just isn’t adding up. Not for Dyanne, either. She thinks a baby will fix that. I think only You can fix it. If we’re supposed to have a baby, show us. Get us ready…

  As his wife turned and rolled onto her back, Neal thought about the question that his father-in-law had raised to him a few days before they’d left New York. “If you had unlimited money, resources and time, what would you do? What is your passion? What do you believe?” The question haunted Neal as much now as it did then, when the only answer he could come up with was himself.

  He believed in a lot things: taking care of his wife, working hard, getting plenty of exercise, eating healthy, making money, doing good in the world. But he didn’t believe a lot of people. Everybody he met seemed to be out for some kind of con, including his wife. His own parents were the picture of perfection, but underneath that beauty ran a subtle cruelty, waiting to crush anyone who stepped out of line. He’d seen that same thing in his wife as she destroyed a beautiful yard to create her own idea of a fantasy landscape.

  And now she wanted to create a baby for the same purpose. His plan to stay away from Dyanne had dissolved at the first sight…and first scent of her. Except for a few stolen lunches and a layover in Atlanta, they hadn’t been together for weeks. As though she were thinking the same, Dyanne’s hand moved along his spine, pausing at his neck before rubbing his head.

  Neal closed his eyes, remembering how many times she’d touched him this way, only to have one of them whisk out the door for a trip or take a late-night call. Could his wife want a baby because she was lonely? Or could God be using this to get to her, too?

  He turned over slowly, throwing his thigh over his wife’s smaller, but just as solid leg. He didn’t know what God was doing or how it would all work out. Head rubbing, however, he understood perfectly.

  The Once-Was

  I once was a star,

  Shooting to the moon

  On mile-high heels.

  My hips spanned the

  Galaxy, curving at the speed

  of light. My light is gone now,

  My wonder moved

  On, taken residence in your

  Eyes. In your laughter, I

  Hear echoes o
f my reign,

  Top notes of the once-was.

  For you, I’d gladly give it

  All again, flinging my hopes

  Into outer space, tossing my words into

  The black silence, once and for all.

  —Karol

  Upon waking, first Sunday after Hope’s move

  Chapter Three

  Karol Simon once stood in the foyer at church with Hope, looking for new moms to encourage.

  This morning, weary and alone, she’d hidden from them.

  They found her anyway.

  One of the newest moms thrust a chubby baby in Karol’s face. “I think he has thrush. His mouth is all white. I remember Miss Hope telling me something to use? Vinegar maybe? Someone said you might know…”

  She took a deep breath and the baby. He returned her smile, just wide enough for her to see his coated tongue. “Yes, vinegar. Swab his mouth with it. You’ll have to do yourself, too. Call the doctor. Maybe some gentian violet. It’s messy, though. They have quick pills now. Antifungals. Limit your sugar—”

  A three-year-old biter was pushed forward next. His mother, almost in tears and afraid to check him into the nursery—he’d bitten half the class the week before—hugged Karol after she finished dispensing more of Hope’s secondhand advice.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “He’s really a good boy. I don’t know why he does it.”

  Karol nodded and gave the young mom a squeeze. Having a child do things that other people didn’t understand could be embarrassing and even hurtful. Though church was supposed to be a place of grace and healing, people were still people and nobody wanted to see teeth marks on their kid—Karol included.

  “If it doesn’t get better right away, you may have to keep him with you in the overflow room for a few weeks. I had to do that with Judah and he still has his moments now and then, but for the most part, he’s over it.” She left out the fact that Judah still took a bite out of Mia now and then. No sense putting the woman over the edge, right?

  As time wound down before service started, Karol hugged and helped all the women she could, all the time feeling like the biggest hypocrite on earth. On the way to church, Mia had thrown her shoe out of the window and Karol had nearly been run over when she pulled off the shoulder to get it.

  And now she was standing in the foyer like some sort of Supermom, giving out advice when she really wanted to run to the bathroom and cry. Though she loved Hope and appreciated all her friend had taught her, she couldn’t imagine how Hope managed to help all these women and run her own houseful. Karol had been hard pressed to stuff Mia into a dress and get her to church with both shoes. And yet, these women thought she had all the answers.

  It was funny, but scary, too. Karol couldn’t have been more relieved when she finally made her way into the sanctuary. The service flew by on mandolin strings and beats from the drums the last visiting missionaries had brought from Kenya. It was a unique and soothing sound.

  Pastor Newton’s sermon had been moving and informative as usual, but Karol found her mind wandering toward grocery lists and her mothering goals for the week: working with Mia on writing her name for kindergarten, getting Judah to help her in the kitchen with dinner and trying to get Ryan to make friends with someone who wasn’t a fictional character or historical figure. She had her work cut out for her, especially on the last count. Ryan was now old enough to join the youth group, but after two Sundays there without Hope’s sons, Aaron and Anthony, Ryan had slid into the pew beside Rob and Karol this morning without offering any explanations. Though she wanted to question him, a sharp nod from Rob kept Karol from dong so.

  On the one hand, Karol was relieved. Some of the boys in the youth group were much older and more experienced than Ryan. She’d thought he might do better in joining the group after the eighth grade when he’d had a little more time to grow up. At the same time, though, each week that went by without him making any new friends, drew him further and further into the world of books, a place even Karol had a hard time pulling him out of sometimes. Rob didn’t seem too worried. “There are a lot worse things the boy could get into besides reading. And think about it, Karol, he gets it from you.”

  That was exactly what worried her. Karol’s love for books had led her down many roads, including a crazy attempt to be published when Ryan was young. Hope had helped her see the sense in focusing on raising her children instead of trying to fulfill some impossible dream. Somehow, though, that dream, or some part of it, had been passed on to Ryan. There were still boxes under her bed full of writing no one had ever seen—and never would see. Even this morning, she’d climbed into her window seat and scribbled out a poem. It was a madness of sorts, one she didn’t want Ryan afflicted with, though in her heart, she knew it was too late.

  And yet, the pastor’s words rang true in her mind.

  Trust God.

  She didn’t take the best notes or hear every word of the sermon, but the gist of it was, as always, applicable and true: God is faithful. He knows what He’s doing, even when we don’t. As the final amen was said, Karol directed that thought to her friendship with Hope, her marriage to Rob, her worries over her children and even her relationship—or lack thereof—with her new neighbors. Somehow, God would work it all out. She certainly couldn’t.

  When church let out and the women began to cluster around her again, Karol repeated the pastor’s words and told them all to go home and trust God with the babies He’d given them. He’d tell them what to do with their children much better than she ever could. Some of the women seemed disappointed, but others were strengthened and thankful for Karol’s confidence.

  She was just happy to take Rob’s hand and escape to the car.

  Though Karol’s two youngest children had been acting up lately, there were no incidents at the restaurant after church. Though they’d usually gone to buffets with copious amounts of family fare with Hope and Singh, today Karol had asked Rob to head to historic Frenchtown for some soul food: ribs, macaroni and cheese, greens seasoned with smoked turkey, tea as sweet as the morning had been sour and sweet potato pie that reminded Karol of the mother she sometimes imagined she would one day have or become.

  Today, she doubted either.

  Judah and Mia were so mesmerized by the sweet potato pie that they seemed back to their old, compliant selves, eating quietly with their best manners. As the family rose to leave, an elderly couple had complimented the children’s behavior.

  The woman, who all of Karol’s children had greeted without the usual urgings, shook her wrinkled finger in the air and waved them over.

  “Now see, you are a good mama. Children now days won’t half speak to nobody and then they come in the restaurant and run all over and act a fool. Y’all are doing a good job. Just keep on like you doing. They are gonna turn out all right, you’ll see. God bless y’all.”

  Though she accepted the compliment and gave the older woman a careful hug, Karol knew something for sure—she was a failure at motherhood. Rob cradled her head into his lap and tried to convince her otherwise that afternoon while their children watched Finding Nemo for the millionth time.

  “You’re a great mom, Karol.”

  She rolled her eyes before looking up at her husband. “Mia threw her shoe out of the van this morning.”

  Her husband had to be at service early to greet visitors and clean the windows. It wasn’t a position exactly, just something Singh had always done. Rob had joined him a few years ago. Now their sons went, too, leaving Karol and Mia alone to fight over hair and dresses.

  This morning, Mia had settled on a pair of Mary Janes a size too small. Karol had tried to explain that she was sending them to Hope for one of her daughters, but Mia had really lost it then. “Can I go with my shoes? It’s no fun here!” she’d wailed, throwing herself onto her canopy bed. Being the only girl had its privileges…and its problems.

  Rob stifled a laugh. “She threw them totally out of the car? But you two made it to church
on time and she had both shoes on—”

  Karol clenched her teeth. “I pulled off the shoulder and ran across the highway to get it. No one had run over it yet, thank God. They almost hit me, though.”

  Her husband’s jaw tightened then. “I don’t like that at all. There was an accident on that shoulder last week. The exits near the church are pretty close together as it is. Next time, leave the shoe.”

  She flipped onto her stomach, fluffing her afro from where it flattened in the back. “Now you know I couldn’t bring that child to church with one shoe. That’s just—just—”

  “Life? Seriously, I don’t know why you insist the kids dress up on Sunday, anyway. None of the other kids do now that Hope and Singh’s kids aren’t here.”

  Karol sat back on the couch beside her husband. “I know you think it’s silly, but it’s just important to me. I was raised to dress up for church. It was a sign of respect for God’s house. I know everything is modern now, and I’m glad that I don’t have to be dressed to the nines every time I go, but I just like for the kids to look nice.”

  “Mom! He’s kicking me and I’m sick of it. He’s trying my patience.” Ryan raised a hand over his brother’s head prepared to give it a sound whack in front of his parents as he’d done so many times before when they weren’t watching.

  Rob responded before she could. “Knock it off, Judah. And you, too, Ryan. Neither of you are allowed to put your hands on each other. Behave or the movie goes off.”

  Ryan jumped up and stood in front of the television before clicking it off. “Fine. I don’t like this movie anyway. You always pick little kid stuff for them. What about me?”

  Judah started to cry. “See what you did? Now we have go take a nap like babies—”

  “I’m not a baby!” Mia burst into tears. “Mom-eeeeee!” She dived onto the couch and into her mother’s arms, knocking her head against Karol’s chin as she went.