The morning shift at The Common Cup that Friday was longer because of the holiday hours and because more customers had time to kick back and hang out with their friends. By the time Kat and Bree got home, Nick had rounded up some bicycles from the Douglasses and the family on the first floor—one of which even had a kid seat for Conny—and asked if they wanted to bike up to Evanston to hear a band concert and see the fireworks.
“Bikes! Sounds fun. But I thought . . .” Kat had assumed she and Bree and Nick would go to the fireworks tonight, just the three of them. Hadn’t Rochelle and Conny gone downtown to Chicago last night with Mr. and Mrs. D? It’d been awhile since the three of them had spent much time together, now that they were all working and had such crazy schedules. Not that she really minded Rochelle and Conny going along if Rochelle kept her little boy entertained. But the way Conny hung on Nick, he was liable to be distracted the whole time.
Nick seemed to read her mind. “How could I say no?” he murmured to her.
Kat shrugged and dragged Bree to the kitchen to see what they could put together for a picnic. Why fight it? It’d still be fun.
With everybody pitching in, they soon had a picnic of tuna sandwiches, carrot sticks, celery boats with peanut butter (Conny’s idea), grapes, home-popped popcorn, tortilla chips, a jar of salsa, and hunks of cheese to nibble on. Rochelle looked at the food on the table and made a face. “Doesn’t seem like a Fourth of July picnic without grilled chicken and potato salad.”
A quick retort sprang to the tip of Kat’s tongue. You were home all morning while Bree and I were working. Why didn’t you make some?—but she swallowed it. What had the Membership Covenant said about “courtesy in speech”? “There’s still Saturday,” she said instead.
“Sure.” Rochelle shrugged. “We could grill on the back porch.”
Kat was glad she’d caught her tongue. Like Bree said, Rochelle was trying. She busied herself distributing the food between the four of them, using a couple of backpacks and grocery sacks to hang from the handlebars.
Nick rode the bike with Conny on the back, and Kat worried that none of them had helmets. But they kept to the side streets until they hit Calvary Cemetery, which divided Chicago from Evanston along the lakefront. The only way around was busy Sheridan Road, but they rode on the sidewalk until they got past the huge cemetery. After that, they were able to pick up a bike path for most of the way running the length of the parks along the lake up to Northwestern University.
Once Kat got used to using the gears on her slightly ancient bike, she enjoyed the ride. It was a nearly perfect day, midseventies. Clouds scuttled about, but no hint of rain. They rode single file, dodging joggers and walkers who seemed to ignore the cinder footpath and insisted on cluttering the bicycle paths, sometimes two or three abreast. Rochelle rode close behind Nick, probably to keep an eye on Conny, who was having the time of his life, holding out his arms and screeching, “Wheeee!” or “I’m flying!” to people they passed. Kat chuckled. He really was a sweet kid.
The lakeside parks were full of picnickers—and, Kat had to admit, the pungent smell of chicken and hamburgers sizzling on a dozen grills made her mouth water. But she couldn’t help but remember the faces of some of the people who’d come to the food pantry the other night—like Lady Lolla and the old man who’d showed up in his stocking feet. How many of them were able to celebrate the Fourth with a picnic in the park? How many of them were still hungry?
Kat’s mind was so distracted she almost ran into Rochelle and Nick, who’d stopped their bikes at the edge of a man-made lagoon with a little island in the middle. Nick turned around as Bree caught up and he pointed to the far end. “That’s where the band will be playing. They’re setting up now. Where do you guys want to picnic?”
“I’m hungry!” Conny announced.
“Me too.” Nick laughed, lifting him out of the kid seat. “That was some bike hike. But you, young man, got a free ride while I did all the work.”
Bike hike was right. Kat’s legs felt wobbly as she locked up her bike with the others to a park sign and unloaded the food. Bree had snatched a few towels from the apartment to serve as blankets. “At least they’re dark-colored and won’t show any grass stains—I hope,” she said, eyeing Kat guiltily. Kat made a face back at her. It was sometimes hard to remember they were just subletting the Candys’ apartment and using a lot of their stuff.
The concert band from one of the neighboring suburbs struck up some great tunes, both classical and popular, and the music backdrop made the tuna sandwiches, nibble food, and sodas taste just right for a picnic. Kat leaned back on her elbows, soaking in the holiday atmosphere as Joplin and Mozart and Motown filled the air. Amazing that so many different kinds of people had all descended on the parks, just having a good time. Maybe heaven was a little bit like this . . .
Funny. Kat had rarely thought about heaven before Pastor Clark died . . . how many weeks ago? She quickly pushed the thought away. His death and all the talk about seeing him again in heaven had made her think about her parents in a new way. Would they be in heaven? A heaven they didn’t believe in?
“I gotta go to the ba’froom!” Conny announced. Reluctantly Rochelle started to get up, but Conny said loudly, “I want Nick to take me to the boys’ ba’froom. They got those pee potties!”
A few heads turned in their direction and smiled. Rochelle seemed flustered, but Nick scrambled to his feet, laughing. “No problem. Come on, Conny.” The two ambled off, hand in hand, to the brick beach house at the other end of the lagoon.
Rochelle watched them go. “Nick would make a good dad,” she murmured.
Kat caught Bree shooting her a look. “Don’t even go there,” she mouthed back.
The Evanston fireworks had been spectacular. It was especially fun to see Conny’s delight as red and blue rockets streaked skyward and exploded with ear-splitting booms or snap-crackle-and-pop, and sparkling stars rained down like celestial willow trees. The little boy sat high on Nick’s shoulders as they’d moved with the crowd closer to the beach where the trees didn’t obscure the view, creating an undulating wall of people “oohing” and “aahing” together as if a Leviathan monster had emerged from the lake.
And then it was over in a frenzy of exploding colors.
The trek home in the dark by bicycle turned out to be a mad-house as the hordes of people moved out of the parks. The streets were full of cars moving bumper to bumper, horns honking as people threaded in and out with their folding chairs and food coolers. But they finally made it back to the three-flat with no major mishaps and one sleepy boy who’d fallen asleep against Nick’s back.
Everyone said they were going to sleep in . . . but for some reason Kat woke up early, felt wide awake, and got up. She padded quietly to the kitchen, made a pot of coffee, and took a steaming cup out onto the back porch along with her backpack. The sky—what she could see of it—was brilliant blue without a cloud anywhere, the early morning sun flashing golden in the windows on the top floors of the buildings around her.
What a spectacular day! And because she’d worked a long holiday shift on the Fourth, she had the rest of the weekend free. She sipped her coffee, feet up on another porch chair, enjoying the slight breeze kissing her face and reliving the fun evening they’d had biking to the Evanston fireworks.
But her mind tripped over Rochelle’s comment when Nick had trundled Conny off to the “ba’frooms.” “Nick would make a good dad.” Had she been just talking in general? Sure, seeing how Nick related to Conny in such an easygoing way had given Kat a new appreciation for him too. At school she’d never had a chance to see him around little kids.
But . . . what if Rochelle meant he’d make a good dad for Conny? If so, it took some nerve to just come out and say it— like she had designs on him or something.
Kat squirmed. Was something more going on with Rochelle and Nick than met the eye? Yeah, he’d always been a tease and sometimes a flirt, but he was definitely more than that . . . In fact, he’d always been the glue that held their little foursome together back at CCU, mostly by knowing when to be funny and when to be serious and say the right thing. Part of it was that pastor thing he had going. As a new Christian, she appreciated knowing Nick knew the Scriptures and could give her a straight word from the Bible.
But come to think of it, he seemed a lot more serious lately—not so goofy and laid back. She kind of missed that side of Nick—but she also missed the long talks they used to have. Almost seemed like there was something he was holding back, a part of himself he wasn’t sharing with her. Or maybe he was just bent out of shape because he had to do that membership thing alone—not sure what was up with that.
Or did it have something to do with Rochelle and Conny?
Kat didn’t like not knowing what was going on with Nick. He was one of her best friends! And lately she’d found herself hoping . . . more than a friend. Hanging around so many seminary students at CCU, she’d told herself she did not want to be a pastor’s wife. But what if that pastor was Nick? Her face flushed right there on the back porch for even thinking it. He’d never remotely hinted at such a thing. But someday she did want to get married, have kids, raise a family—and what guy did she know better than Nick? In fact, knowing Nick raised the bar pretty high for any other guy to leap over. Even the way he related to Conny had given her another glimpse into the man he was becoming . . .
Help! She had to stop this. Any moment now one of the others would wander out onto the porch and probably read her face like a book. Might even be Nick!
Jumping up, Kat slipped quietly into the kitchen to refill her coffee, then settled down again on the porch. She hadn’t done much with the Bible study she’d wanted to do . . . now would be a perfect time. Digging into her backpack, she found her Bible and the list of scriptures Nick had found for her. Starting with the first one, she paged through the Old Testament until she found Isaiah, chapter 55, and began reading. “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat!”
Whoa! Kat’s eyes widened. Sounded like Isaiah was talking to poor people—people without money—calling them to “come, buy, eat.” Just like that food pantry they’d visited. People who had no money could come, “shop,” and go home with something to eat. But was that just an image to talk about something else?
She read further and ended up reading the whole chapter. Then she sat there thinking a long time . . . until a childish voice at the screen door said, “Miss Kat? Mommy’s still sleeping, but I’m hungry. Can I have some cereal?”
Kat jumped up and grinned at the little boy. “Got any money?”
Conny’s forehead puckered in confusion. “No-o.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place, little man. No money gets you a big bowl of cereal!”
