Part 23 (2/2)

Dahlia turned. ”What?”

I stared across at the empty seat where he'd been. ”Nothing. Have a seat. Tell me all about the shop.”

I tried not to be jealous, but I wasn't so sure if I pulled it off. While Dahlia rattled off the sales figures, slipped the digital camera out of her purse and showed me the new store arrangements, her sketches for new labels and logos for each line-how many lines did I have again?-I really had to stay calm. When she pulled out a spreadsheet of the top sellers over the last six weeks plus a graph for the trends for the month to come, my breath left me. Sure, I had the creative thing going on, but my sister was good at this business thing.

Really good.

”Don't look so surprised. I know you expect me to be stupid.” She snapped her purse shut.

”It's not that, it's just that-”

She smiled. ”I know. You weren't expecting it. Me, either. I mean sure, I'm good with shopping, and I got A's in business school, but this is really my thing.”

You mean my thing. As usual.

I scratched my cheek.

”I mean your thing, of course. It's your business, but I'm-forget it. I can't make everything up to you, but I'm trying to do what I can.” She stared at the ceiling. ”Trying to make you proud of me.”

I could almost hear that anonymous radio voice, saying, ”This is a test. This is a test of the Christian response broadcast system.” For a moment, I thought it was a test I would fail. This was what Dahlia had been seeking all those times that she hurt me. Recognition. Approval. Love. Now, when she was seeking it in constructive ways, did I have the strength, the faith, to build her up? I didn't. But Jesus did and He loaned me a little just before my little sister's eyes clouded over.

I gathered my sister into my arms. ”I'm very proud of you.” I stared across the room at Sierra, bouncing on Jordan's lap. ”You are trying to pull your family together, you're working hard to help me and regardless of what's happened between us, you came back to try and make it right.”

Her tears moistened my shoulder. ”It was Trev who insisted we come back. But I'm glad we did. I need you.” She looked around the room and whispered, ”All of you.” Just as quickly, Dahlia collected herself, wiped her tears, and nodded toward a handsome newcomer standing in the living room. ”Who's the hunk?”

I giggled, then stopped, swallowing my laughter. She was crying one minute and scoping the next. I had to remember who I was dealing with. ”That's Bob.”

Her mouth opened just a bit. ”Bob?”

”The Visa guy who called the hospital when I had the stroke. Turns out he goes to the Spanish church down the street from ours.” I spoke the last words slowly, watching her watch him. Didn't we have enough trouble? ”Don't get any ideas.”

She looked hurt. ”I was just curious, Dane. It's not like that. The last thing I need is another man. I realize now I've had too many. That's my problem. I just want more of Jesus.” She stared over at Trevor, sitting on the couch between Adrian and Jericho. He looked tired. Drained.

Jesus had certainly been busy while I was away.

Sierra rubbed her eyes and started to whine, but Trevor crossed the room and picked her up before anyone else could. He walked her out, eying Dahlia as he went.

She ignored him, but moved to the edge of her seat when he disappeared down the hall. ”One more thing. What's the deal with this Tangela chick stiffing you for all that money? Why didn't you tell me about that?”

Tangela? I covered my mouth then let my fingers slip away. ”Oh, no. Her wedding. I forgot all about it.”

Dahlia narrowed her eyes as if I'd said the stupidest thing ever. ”You had a stroke and you're still worried about that woman? That's how you got to the hospital in the first place. I know you love G.o.d, but business is business. When she showed up, I showed her the door. And don't worry about the money she owed you. Lord willing, Trevor and I are still headed for the altar in a few weeks and you can be my maid of honor.”

Maid of honor. If I was going to do it, it should be for family, but it'd be easy to say that and just be doing it for the money. Despite the hugs and pie graphs, I knew Dahlia could easily hurt me again.

She pursed her lips. ”Since you're taking so long to even say anything, I'm sorry for asking.”

I took a deep breath. ”I'm just surprised. You and Trevor don't even look like you're getting along, let alone getting married. Not that I wouldn't be happy for you. I just don't want you to feel like you're doing penance or making things up to me. If I'm going to do something like that, I want you to mean it.”

And for me to mean it, too.

She nodded. ”I do mean it. About Trevor and about you. I want you to stand up for me. As my sister.”

”Are you serious?”

”Serious as that stroke you had.”

That girl always did have an off sense of humor. She actually thought that was funny.

My throat tightened. Should I do it? Everything seemed all wonderful now, but what about when Dahlia pulled a fast one like she had so many times before? Sure I wanted her to grow into the woman G.o.d wanted her to be and I did love her, really I did. But I couldn't escape what felt like another flas.h.i.+ng red light. It was probably just my fear, but it was flas.h.i.+ng just the same. Sierra tumbled out of her uncle's lap and ran across the room to me, prying open my arms and snuggling her hair in mine. I smiled. ”Let me pray about it and talk to the doctor.” At least I could actually fit into a decent dress. Not that I'd recommend the brain trauma diet plan.

Dahlia plucked her baby from my arms. ”Okay, whatever. We'll talk more about it later. It'll be a small ceremony anyway. Gotta run.”

I'd hurt her, something that I'd tried to avoid, but I couldn't keep just going along. To Dahlia, standing up before G.o.d with Trevor might not mean more than a chance to buy a pretty dress. A glorified version of the prom. For me, the ceremony and its partic.i.p.ants were a statement, parts of a covenant between a man and a woman and G.o.d who made them. To have me being a ”maid” of honor and Dahlia just hooking up with her baby's daddy until their next breakup, wouldn't work for me. Maybe I wouldn't have a lasting marriage, but I wouldn't be offering my presence at the altar anymore for whoever happened to ask-not even for my sister.

Life, I'd learned recently, was too short and too sweet to waste on things I didn't mean.

They took good care of me. Dad kept me stocked in fruits and veggies and cooked dinner for me every night while the others came and went, calling and checking, dropping by. While the attention was nice, I craved the solitude and time with G.o.d I'd rediscovered at the hospital.

With no agenda driving my days, I woke each morning to fill myself with G.o.d's promises, prayer, walking the neighborhood I'd forgotten existed, waving to neighbors I'd long ignored. Tracey and I e-mailed often and talked on the phone daily, sharing recipes and tips for the online journaling program she'd suggested I sign up for. It suited me much better. After our food talk, next would come her pregnancy woes. Today was no different.

”Did you know that the average age for weaning is four years old worldwide? Isn't that amazing?”

More like gross. It was La Leche League day, so I could expect at least twenty minutes on the merits of breastmilk. The cost of friends.h.i.+p. ”That's wild, Tracey.”

”It really is. The body is just so awesome, you know? Like your shop. Fearfully and wonderfully made. Psalm 139, right?”

”Right.” I'd read it this morning, in fact. Only the merits of the female design hadn't been on my mind then. When I read the pa.s.sage, I reflected on how well G.o.d knew me. The intimacy He craved with me. I'd been wonderfully made to wors.h.i.+p Him...to know Him in a way that only I could.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Talking to Tracey was great, but I suddenly wanted to be alone again-with my Savior. Especially since the stock was running low at the store and I needed to start building inventory. Not with my usual intensity though. Just a batch of something each day.

”Dane, you there?”

I blinked. ”Sure. Sorry.”

Munching sounded through the receiver. ”It's okay. It's time for me to have my snack anyway. Go and have yours.”

Snack? ”I just ate, Tracey.”

”I didn't mean food. I meant spirit food. Treasure your singleness, Dane. Love Jesus with all your heart...while you've got the time.” She crunched one more time. ”And send us a great devotional when you're done. I say take the whole month. You've been killing it.”

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