Avis wrapped the black silk head wrap around her twists to keep them in place and slid between the sheets, scooting over until she was cuddled against Peter’s broad bare back, her arm resting along his side, their bodies like spoons. She lay with her head on the soft pillow, feeling the energy that had kept her going all this startling, astounding day draining out of her body.
She was tired. Exhausted even. But her eyes were wide open, staring into the velvet darkness. “Peter?”
“Mm.”
“Isn’t it amazing to think that this morning we had no idea where Rochelle and Conny were, and tonight they’re sleeping in the room right beneath us?”
“Mm-hm.”
Rochelle and Conny . . . safe. Together. Here in this building. Oh Lord, it’s almost too wonderful to comprehend! Thank You, Jesus, thank You. Thank You for protecting them, for bringing them home . . .
How long had her Yada Yada sisters been praying for Rochelle and Conny? Months. Well, years if she counted everything that had happened since Rochelle had fled her abusive marriage and then discovered Dexter had infected her with HIV.
She really needed to call Jodi and Estelle and Edesa with the good news. Well, she’d see them at worship tomorrow. And she’d call the rest of the sisters tomorrow afternoon to tell them how God had answered their prayers.
And yet . . . she shuddered. Rochelle and Conny’s situation had been even worse than she’d imagined. She never once thought Rochelle would risk letting Conny stay with his dad. And it’d been touch-and-go that evening too.
“Peter?”
“Mm.”
“You really stood up to Dexter tonight. I was proud of you. And so glad you were there.”
Peter turned his head slightly, letting her see part of his profile in the moonlight streaming through the window blinds. “Yeah, well, when Rochelle said Conny had been staying with the man and she’d need to go back to get his stuff, no way was I going to let her face him alone. We know what he’s like.”
“But you said Conny should go with us too. That surprised me.”
“Humph. I did it for Conny’s sake. Poor kid doesn’t understand all the adult reasons his mom and dad are separated. It would just be more confusion if he didn’t get to make some transition, say good-bye to his dad. He’s been living there for, what? Four months? And I knew showing up without Conny would just set the man off, and we’d have a big scene on our hands.”
Avis felt a nervous giggle escape. “We almost had a scene on our hands anyway.”
“Yeah, well . . . Dexter wouldn’t be Dexter if he didn’t try to bully Rochelle, make her feel guilty for taking Conny back.”
“I know.” She raised up, leaned over his shoulder, and kissed his scratchy cheek. She caught a slight whiff of his leathery aftershave. “Thank you for standing up to him. You were so . . . strong. Told him what’s what. No shouting. But no nonsense either.” She kissed him again. “My man.”
Peter’s head sank back onto his pillow and his breathing evened out. Avis cuddled closer, her heart swelling with love for him. And yet, not twelve hours ago she’d been so angry with him! But that was before . . .
“Peter?”
“Mm.”
“Thank you for apologizing to Rochelle about last Valentine’s Day. I know that meant eating some humble pie.”
“Humph.”
She thought that was all he was going to say, but after a moment he murmured, “Yeah, I was upset at her barging in on us late at night. I had designs on you that evening, which she completed disrupted.” He gave a little snort. “To tell the truth, I didn’t want to admit she needed us that night. But . . . she was hurting and I was being selfish. So I meant it when I asked her to forgive me.”
Suddenly he rolled over to face her in the dim moonlight. “Actually, I need to ask you to forgive me too. I thought the whole thing would blow over in a couple of weeks, and she’d get her act together. When we lost contact, it was more serious than I wanted to admit. I know you’ve suffered a lot these past few months, and . . . I’m sorry, Avis. Really sorry.”
A lump caught in her throat. She couldn’t speak. But reaching up she traced his lips and stroked his face. “Forgiven,” she finally whispered. “And I know Rochelle forgives you too. Did you hear what she said to Kathryn and the others when we got back here with Conny’s stuff?”
“No, what? I was putting the car in the garage, remember?”
“She said, ‘You should’ve seen Dad stand up to Dexter.’ ”
Now Peter leaned up on one elbow. “She said that? She called me Dad?” He chuckled. “How about that.” He lay down again, still chuckling.
They were quiet again for several minutes as Avis’s mind ran through all that had transpired since that fateful day in February, including the missing ruby earrings.
“Peter?”
“Mm.” His eyes were closed.
“I think I know how the earrings got back on my dresser.”
“Hm. You didn’t ask Rochelle?” he murmured, eyes still closed.
“No. The first thing she said to me at the coffee shop was she was sorry about the earrings, but I didn’t want to talk earrings right then. But I’ve been thinking . . .”
Silence.
“It was Kathryn Davies.”
“Kathryn?”
“Rochelle said she met Kathryn Dumpster-diving, and they ran into each other several more times. She must have given Kathryn the earrings and told her to put them on my dresser sometime when she was here. Maybe the night they came for dinner? I don’t know. But it makes sense, don’t you think?”
Silence.
Dumpster-diving. Avis’s heart twisted. The first time she’d met Kathryn at SouledOut, the girl had her arms full of food she’d “rescued” from a Dumpster. Florida was offended by it. To Avis, the whole thing had been slightly annoying, one more of Kathryn’s idealistic ventures to save the world. And yet . . . her own daughter, her precious Rochelle, had been Dumpster-diving because she was hungry. Because she was homeless. Had no money. No food.
And it was Kathryn who’d found her. God had used Kathryn’s Dumpster-diving to bring her daughter back to her. God had used Kathryn . . .
Oh God! Forgive me for judging that girl. Your Word says that all the parts of Your body are important—even the Dumpster-divers, I guess. And that we need each other! I didn’t realize it, but You did, my Father. You knew I needed Kathryn, that she was the one You were going to use to bring my daughter home again.
“And Kathryn needs you,” a Voice whispered in her spirit.
Avis was startled by the clarity of the words. Kathryn needs me, Lord? She seems like such an independent young woman, totally self-sufficient, with all these big ideas.
“She needed you this morning.”
That morning . . . it was true. Avis could hardly believe what Kathryn had said when she’d discovered the girl crying outside the coffee shop. That she couldn’t remember being hugged like that by her own mother—or even hugged at all. Was that possible?
Okay, Lord. I see it now. She needed to learn more about Kathryn’s family situation. Stand by her in the same way that the girl had stood by Avis and her family, in spite of how often Avis had pushed her away, kept her distance. Why? Why had Kathryn continued to show up on her doorstep, so to speak?
She was hungry. Hungry for a mother’s unconditional love? Yes. But more than that. Kathryn was a fairly new Christian. She’d been reaching out to Avis, needing a woman of God to show her the way. Didn’t Scripture say for the older women to teach the younger?
Oh God, I’ve been so blind! Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me . . .
And then there was Nick. What was it Peter had said? That Nick was sweet on Kathryn? Avis wondered how Kathryn felt about that. Or if she even knew. But if it was true, then Kathryn and Nick needed both her and Peter. So maybe it was a double blessing that Peter had given Nick a job. Maybe he could be a mentor to him . . .
Which he’d already become, in a way. After all, it was Peter who said he felt God was prompting him to support Nick’s pastoral internship at SouledOut. Even if it meant that one of them should withdraw from the process of becoming part of the interim pastoral team.
Which one? Her or Peter?
“Peter?”
No answer. Her husband’s breathing was deep and regular. But she had an idea what he’d say. That they should take the whole idea to Pastor Cobbs and get his discernment. But Peter was convinced that the young man should intern at SouledOut Community Church. And Avis had to agree. Frankly, she wouldn’t mind taking her name off the list. A team of Pastor Cobbs, Peter, and young Nick could be dynamite.
There was only one thing that bothered her.
It was David Brown who’d brought up Nick’s internship at the congregational meeting. For less than noble reasons. The man and his wife were closet racists. That was harsh . . . but it was true. So if Nick became an interim pastor, even as an intern, would the Browns have “won”?
“Avis?” The Voice in her spirit almost jolted her upright.
She felt like young Samuel in the Bible. Are You talking to me, Lord?
“Don’t forget, people misunderstood a lot of things I did while I was on earth. And it looked like the devil had won when they crucified Me. But I was obedient to the Father because it was the right thing to do. All part of God’s plan.”
Avis almost stopped breathing, not wanting to miss this inner Voice.
“So the only question is, is encouraging Nick’s internship the right thing to do? If it is, then let Me take care of the Browns and their misguided prejudices.”
The inner Voice faded. The only sound in the room was Peter’s deep breathing, almost a gentle snore. A sweet peace filled Avis’s spirit as she relaxed against the soft pillow and finally closed her eyes.
“Thank You, Jesus,” she breathed, “for Your faithfulness—for standing with me in spite of my failures, my sins, my blind eyes and deaf ears . . .”
And Avis slept.