dresses in a rainbow of pastels, peach, lavender and robin’s egg blue. A lovely canary yellow that had actually looked good on me. The last, a shocking pink with a ruffled skirt, sported two slits down the sides.
Remembering it was the third Sunday and the choir needed to dress the same, I reached for a black wrap-around skirt and white blouse, both in a size I’d vowed never to wear again.
Why’d you keep them, then?
Just in case, the same reason I still had my hope chest full of dishes that Mama had given to Adrian and me. The thought made me a little queasy. I’d have to get rid of that. It was just weird.
I stared at the clock. Six-thirty. At noonday prayer on Friday, I’d promised Mother Holly I’d pick her up for church this morning. Did she go to the early service? I’d forgotten to ask. I’d been too busy soaking up her powerful prayers for my situation with Jordan and Rochelle. I didn’t give the details, but having been my mother’s friend, she knew enough to read between the lines.
“Don’t worry about it, baby,” she’d said in that singsong voice of hers. “You just do your thing. Keep your eyes on Jesus. He’s got this.”
I smiled at the thought, both knowing and wondering if she was right. He did have this thing, didn’t He? ’Cause I didn’t.
Peeling off the tight-sleeved dress, I smoothed my skirt down over my stockings, then tucked my blouse into the flexible waistband.
Ahh…much better.
Nothing like elastic when you bloat up like the Good Ship Lollipop.
The phone rang, interrupting my silly thoughts. I walked toward it, put my hand on the receiver, but didn’t pick up. Surely Rochelle wouldn’t choose now to try and “get things straight” as she had on many other Sunday mornings. Nah. Maybe later, after her solo, when she felt especially holy.
What about Adrian? Besides our inopportune run-ins in the business owners’ parking lot and my constant glances across the street, e-mail had been our only contact. And even that proved more than I could deal with. Three messages from him awaited my reply.
“You have reached Dana Rose. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Leave a message and have a blessed day.”
“Dane! It’s Tracey. I know you’re there. Probably standing up in your stockings talking to yourself. Pick up! I—”
She knew me so well. “What is it, silly? And I’m not talking to myself. I’m thinking, thank you.”
“Mmm-hmm. In your stockings.”
I shrugged, staring down at my toes peeking through the black sheer. No sense arguing the obvious. “How’ve you been? Things any better?”
Tracey didn’t respond. I slipped my foot in one shoe and waited, growing concerned with the lengthening silence. When there was something big to tell, Tracey went quiet on you. Surelytheir marriage hadn’t gone totally sour in two months? “Tracey? Is everything okay?”
Sobs poured through the phone. “No…it’s not…okay.”
I stared at the clock. Six forty-two. Mother Holly wasn’t going to make it to the early service. Neither was I. “Take your time, hon. Whatever it is, we can work it out. God can work it out.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I could imagine Tracey nodding, tears trailing under her chin. Besides her laughing capabilities, she was a great crier, too. Should have been an actress. Only these tears were all too real.
“Just say it. I’m here.”
“I’m…I’m…”
My neck rotated in circles as if I could make her spit it out. “Yes?”
“I’m pregnant!”
I let out a long breath. “Wow.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
Oh, no, there’s a lot more I could say, but I’ll hold my tongue for now.
Rochelle is going to blow.
“I’m so happy for you, Tracey.” And I meant it. I think. A baby. I so did not see that coming.
“Are you, really? Happy for me, I mean?” Another sniff.
“Really.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, staring into my closet. Who knew? Maybe this would be the thing to help them get closer. I
Remembering it was the third Sunday and the choir needed to dress the same, I reached for a black wrap-around skirt and white blouse, both in a size I’d vowed never to wear again.
Why’d you keep them, then?
Just in case, the same reason I still had my hope chest full of dishes that Mama had given to Adrian and me. The thought made me a little queasy. I’d have to get rid of that. It was just weird.
I stared at the clock. Six-thirty. At noonday prayer on Friday, I’d promised Mother Holly I’d pick her up for church this morning. Did she go to the early service? I’d forgotten to ask. I’d been too busy soaking up her powerful prayers for my situation with Jordan and Rochelle. I didn’t give the details, but having been my mother’s friend, she knew enough to read between the lines.
“Don’t worry about it, baby,” she’d said in that singsong voice of hers. “You just do your thing. Keep your eyes on Jesus. He’s got this.”
I smiled at the thought, both knowing and wondering if she was right. He did have this thing, didn’t He? ’Cause I didn’t.
Peeling off the tight-sleeved dress, I smoothed my skirt down over my stockings, then tucked my blouse into the flexible waistband.
Ahh…much better.
Nothing like elastic when you bloat up like the Good Ship Lollipop.
The phone rang, interrupting my silly thoughts. I walked toward it, put my hand on the receiver, but didn’t pick up. Surely Rochelle wouldn’t choose now to try and “get things straight” as she had on many other Sunday mornings. Nah. Maybe later, after her solo, when she felt especially holy.
What about Adrian? Besides our inopportune run-ins in the business owners’ parking lot and my constant glances across the street, e-mail had been our only contact. And even that proved more than I could deal with. Three messages from him awaited my reply.
“You have reached Dana Rose. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Leave a message and have a blessed day.”
“Dane! It’s Tracey. I know you’re there. Probably standing up in your stockings talking to yourself. Pick up! I—”
She knew me so well. “What is it, silly? And I’m not talking to myself. I’m thinking, thank you.”
“Mmm-hmm. In your stockings.”
I shrugged, staring down at my toes peeking through the black sheer. No sense arguing the obvious. “How’ve you been? Things any better?”
Tracey didn’t respond. I slipped my foot in one shoe and waited, growing concerned with the lengthening silence. When there was something big to tell, Tracey went quiet on you. Surelytheir marriage hadn’t gone totally sour in two months? “Tracey? Is everything okay?”
Sobs poured through the phone. “No…it’s not…okay.”
I stared at the clock. Six forty-two. Mother Holly wasn’t going to make it to the early service. Neither was I. “Take your time, hon. Whatever it is, we can work it out. God can work it out.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I could imagine Tracey nodding, tears trailing under her chin. Besides her laughing capabilities, she was a great crier, too. Should have been an actress. Only these tears were all too real.
“Just say it. I’m here.”
“I’m…I’m…”
My neck rotated in circles as if I could make her spit it out. “Yes?”
“I’m pregnant!”
I let out a long breath. “Wow.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
Oh, no, there’s a lot more I could say, but I’ll hold my tongue for now.
Rochelle is going to blow.
“I’m so happy for you, Tracey.” And I meant it. I think. A baby. I so did not see that coming.
“Are you, really? Happy for me, I mean?” Another sniff.
“Really.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, staring into my closet. Who knew? Maybe this would be the thing to help them get closer. I
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