doubted it, but maybe. “Aren’t you happy, too? I know it’s not the best time, but you both want children.”
Her voice turned to a whisper. “I know. It’s just—I’m scared, Dana. Ryan seems happy about it and everything, but I feel the munchies coming on and you know how fast I can gain—”
Boy did I. Nobody could gain or lose weight like Tracey. I maintained a steady up creep to keep things interesting, but over the years, Trace had earned stock in everything from Deal-A-Meal to Jenny Craig, only to drop it all when she finally fell in love. Still, I was surprised that weight was her main concern.
“You’ll be fine. Just walk the block. Eat some fruit and veggies every day and don’t overdo.” Good advice. Why didn’t I take it?
“That’s easy for you to say, Dane. You always look good.”
I tapped the receiver. Was this thing on, or had my just-married-now-pregnant friend lost the last bit of her mind? “You called Dana, not Rochelle. Dana.”
“I know who I’m talking to. Rochelle is too skinny to live. You’re a great size. You just insist on buying clothes that don’t fit and make you look bigger than you are. You’re beautiful. And those eyes? Man. I was so afraid Ryan still liked you. Really afraid.”
Whoa. What was this, Black Confessions? I could only take so much. “Afraid? Of me? Trace, you’re like a genius, you dress like a goddess and you’re so nice. Everybody loves you. Everybody.”
She sniffed again. “Not everybody. It’s horrible out here. Everybody at church has kids. All the women are perfect. Just perfect. A bunch of stay-at-home moms—”
I rubbed my eyes, suddenly feeling very sleepy. “But that’s what you want to be, remember? You’ll be perfect, too. The best mom ever. Now go back to sleep.”
“Sleep? Ha. I can’t. I have to run to the bathroom every ten minutes and then I get thirsty. Then I’m hungry, then I get sleepy and right when I nod off, and it starts all over again. I—”
“Tracey.” For all my friend’s bubbliness, she had a manic side, too, the side I’d considered dousing with punch at her reception. Getting her to stop this hysteria wouldn’t be easy. “Let’s pray.”
“Okay. You go.”
Of course. “Lord, You said that children are a blessing from You. Thank You for giving Tracey and Ryan this gift. Help her to stay calm to trust You and do the things she knows to do. Give her the peace that passes all understanding.”
She sighed through the receiver. “That was soo-oo-o good. Peace that passes all understanding. You always know just what to say.”
I groaned. “It’s in the Bible, Tracey.” She always made it sound like I’d made some Shakespearian performance every time I prayed. Her kid would have disgustingly high self-esteem. She’d probably cheer every time she changed a diaper.
“I know, but you just say it so well.”
“Whatever. Look, I’ve got to go. Your church doesn’t start until eleven, right?”
“Ten-thirty.”
“Okay. Take a nap and have a great worship—”
“Rochelle is going to have a fit.”
I smiled. “A honeymoon baby? Oh, yeah. She’ll go nuts. But don’t worry about her, she’s busy being mad at me.”
“What’s up with you two? Is it—”
“More than I have time to tell.”
“E-mail me.”
“I will.”
The phone beeped indicating another call. Who was it now? Rochelle would be on the way to the seven o’clock service by now. Had I given Mother Holly my number? Maybe she’d looked it up in the church directory.
“Look. I’ve got to go. Someone’s calling.”
“At this time of the morning? Who is it? Should I hold—”
“No. I love you. And it will be okay. It really will. Bye.”
I pressed the button, collecting my apologies.
“Mother Holly?”
A man’s voice, still and calm, answered my greeting. “No, sorry to disappoint. It’s Adrian.”
I stumbled, trying to jab my foot into my other shoe, now overturned beside the bed. “Uh, hi.
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