changed. “But you need more than love, Em. Sometimes you need common ground.” She hesitated, and the familiar sting of tears poked at the corners of her eyes. “Your dad and I are still working on that.”
“So … how can I pray for you?”
Of course this was Emily’s answer. She’d spent a lifetime praying that she’d find them, and that if she did, they’d find love again together.
“Seeing Justin, getting to know him, that’s helped a little.” She gave her daughter a sad smile. “Just pray that God’ll give us a bridge, a way to understand each other better.”
Emily studied her. “You understand, right, Mom? That none of us want this war.”
“That’s what I keep hearing.” She refused to get into a debate with her daughter minutes after a soccer game.
“Well, it’s true. We don’t want war.” She pressed her hand against her heart. “We want a safe country, and we want the people of Iraq to be free. If it takes a war to make that happen, then we’ll fight to win.” She paused, seeming so sure of herself. “Can’t you see how that makes sense?”
Lauren wanted to dig a hole and hide from all of them. Shane and the Bakers, even Emily. How could she be so different from the rest of them? How could they not see that fighting was never the answer? A safer America? That could be accomplished through peace talks and treaties. Wasn’t that what parents always taught their kids — talk things out, don’t resort to violence? So why couldn’t the people she cared most about in the whole world see the situation in that light? Or why couldn’t she see it in theirs?
Emily was waiting, so Lauren pulled her close and hugged her, stroking her back. “You know what makes sense?”
“What?” There was such angst in Emily’s voice. She inched away, clearly still wanting answers.
“Why PLU gave you a soccer scholarship.” Lauren grasped at the upbeat tone, the one that felt more familiar, easier when it came to Emily. “Honey, you’re wonderful! It makes me so sad to think how many games I missed.”
Gradually, Emily’s expression changed until it was clear she’d made a conscious decision to let go of the previous topic. A smile replaced her concerned look and her eyes began to dance. “It doesn’t matter how many you missed. It matters that you’re here now.”
“And tomorrow’s the championship!”
“Exactly.” Emily leaned in and held her mother for a long while. “It’ll all work out, right, Mom?”
Her daughter’s simple words were like swords pricking the surface of her heart, allowing a pain that knew no bounds to slip free. “I hope so, sweetheart. I truly hope so.”
The topic didn’t come up again that night or the next day as they wished Emily luck before the championship. Again Lauren sat with Shane and the Bakers at the top of the bleachers. This time they didn’t talk about war or politics or the Middle East. They simply cheered Emily on.
Just after halftime, Lauren’s cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID and felt her breath catch in her throat. Bob Maine, her editor. She stepped down from the bleachers and took the call several feet away. “Hello?”
“Lauren, tell me you’re at the airport.” The man’s gruff voice belied a heart as big as the magazine’s towering offices in New York City. “You haven’t answered my emails.”
“Because I’ve been busy working, Bob. Remember that? This is the first week I haven’t turned in a story.”
“But they’re stories anyone could write.”
“Thanks.” She kept her tone from getting too serious. This wasn’t the time to make a decision about returning to the Middle East.
“Lauren …” He gave a frustrated groan. “Okay, not anyone . You’re doing a great job reporting stateside. But we don’t have anyone like you over there, baby. We need you. Even just for six months.”
Six months. The thought bounced around her mind like an errant pinball. She could do that, couldn’t she?
“So … how can I pray for you?”
Of course this was Emily’s answer. She’d spent a lifetime praying that she’d find them, and that if she did, they’d find love again together.
“Seeing Justin, getting to know him, that’s helped a little.” She gave her daughter a sad smile. “Just pray that God’ll give us a bridge, a way to understand each other better.”
Emily studied her. “You understand, right, Mom? That none of us want this war.”
“That’s what I keep hearing.” She refused to get into a debate with her daughter minutes after a soccer game.
“Well, it’s true. We don’t want war.” She pressed her hand against her heart. “We want a safe country, and we want the people of Iraq to be free. If it takes a war to make that happen, then we’ll fight to win.” She paused, seeming so sure of herself. “Can’t you see how that makes sense?”
Lauren wanted to dig a hole and hide from all of them. Shane and the Bakers, even Emily. How could she be so different from the rest of them? How could they not see that fighting was never the answer? A safer America? That could be accomplished through peace talks and treaties. Wasn’t that what parents always taught their kids — talk things out, don’t resort to violence? So why couldn’t the people she cared most about in the whole world see the situation in that light? Or why couldn’t she see it in theirs?
Emily was waiting, so Lauren pulled her close and hugged her, stroking her back. “You know what makes sense?”
“What?” There was such angst in Emily’s voice. She inched away, clearly still wanting answers.
“Why PLU gave you a soccer scholarship.” Lauren grasped at the upbeat tone, the one that felt more familiar, easier when it came to Emily. “Honey, you’re wonderful! It makes me so sad to think how many games I missed.”
Gradually, Emily’s expression changed until it was clear she’d made a conscious decision to let go of the previous topic. A smile replaced her concerned look and her eyes began to dance. “It doesn’t matter how many you missed. It matters that you’re here now.”
“And tomorrow’s the championship!”
“Exactly.” Emily leaned in and held her mother for a long while. “It’ll all work out, right, Mom?”
Her daughter’s simple words were like swords pricking the surface of her heart, allowing a pain that knew no bounds to slip free. “I hope so, sweetheart. I truly hope so.”
The topic didn’t come up again that night or the next day as they wished Emily luck before the championship. Again Lauren sat with Shane and the Bakers at the top of the bleachers. This time they didn’t talk about war or politics or the Middle East. They simply cheered Emily on.
Just after halftime, Lauren’s cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID and felt her breath catch in her throat. Bob Maine, her editor. She stepped down from the bleachers and took the call several feet away. “Hello?”
“Lauren, tell me you’re at the airport.” The man’s gruff voice belied a heart as big as the magazine’s towering offices in New York City. “You haven’t answered my emails.”
“Because I’ve been busy working, Bob. Remember that? This is the first week I haven’t turned in a story.”
“But they’re stories anyone could write.”
“Thanks.” She kept her tone from getting too serious. This wasn’t the time to make a decision about returning to the Middle East.
“Lauren …” He gave a frustrated groan. “Okay, not anyone . You’re doing a great job reporting stateside. But we don’t have anyone like you over there, baby. We need you. Even just for six months.”
Six months. The thought bounced around her mind like an errant pinball. She could do that, couldn’t she?
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