Chapter Twenty

“Everyone seems to be enjoying this,” said Serena, carrying another tray of painted squash out to the cultural hall for consumption, passing Lori coming back toward the church kitchen with an empty tray.

Lori nodded, gratified. “It turned out tasty, didn’t it?”

“And Charles’s zucchini chicken curry is really good. It’s nearly gone already.”

Serena disappeared into the cultural hall, and Lori entered the kitchen.

Setting her empty tray down to be refilled by two ladies who’d generously offered to help, even though it wasn’t even their calling, Lori gathered up another tray holding three brightly colored squash—purple swirls, red-white-and-blue stripes, and orange dots. She made another trip from the kitchen into the cultural hall.

Serena was arranging her load along the several long tables that ran along one wall. The painted squash were interspersed with three different types of salad: green, cabbage with Ramen noodles, and broccoli.

About ten large, round tables had been set up, each of them with a centerpiece of several painted squash. She recognized many of the faces, but few of the names, except for Dawn and the gossiper, Jeanette.

Lori had taught a short lesson on the theme of the evening—“Color Your Life with the Gospel”—and thought she’d done a good job. At least she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself, and no one had booed, like they had at her play.

Lori could hardly wait to talk with John when he picked her up, to tell him how well everything had gone. He’d been so sweet earlier, carrying everything inside, wishing her luck, telling her she’d do great. He seemed to have such confidence in her—certainly more than she had in herself.

When Agatha came up to her, Lori set the heavy tray onto the table. “Thanks again for coming, Agatha. It made it easier to have you and Serena here.”

She didn’t say it, but having Dawn Lawson in the group of thirty or so women had made the evening more difficult for Lori. Dawn, whose hurt and animosity toward Lori showed in her eyes and
bristled in the air around her.

Serena joined them and helped Lori arrange the last of the squash. “I love your shoes, chica. Did you rob banks in New York or what? I don’t know how else you could afford Manolos.”

Lori smiled. “I had to practically mortgage my apartment, but I couldn’t pass them up.”

“Well, if you ever get tired of them, toss them my way. I’d love a chance to walk a mile in your shoes.”

Agatha motioned toward the tables filled with brightly painted zucchini, spaghetti squash, and crooknecks, and laughed. “Ladies, we did good. Those are some wild zucchinis.”

“I like them.” Serena touched a small rose-colored zucchini. “They’re very colorful. I almost feel like I’m back in Mexico. The women are going to love taking one home.”

“I’m just glad zucchini month is over. I can’t believe it’s almost September,” Lori said.

Agatha chuckled. “But you’ve got lots of new recipes. So it was a success all around.”

“Wait. I know. You could write a cookbook.” Serena motioned toward the tables like Agatha had done earlier. “You could call it How to Stuff a Wild Zucchini.”

“That’s a grand idea,” said Agatha.

Lori laughed. “Maybe I just will.”

“Maybe it could be a book of ideas for Enrichment activities,” Agatha suggested. “You’ll need pictures.”

“I’ve taken lots already,” said Serena, pulling her camera from her purse. “And now I’ll get one of you two.”

As Lori stood where Serena directed, she saw Dawn talking with two other women and pointing in Lori’s direction. The other two women looked at Lori, then quickly away.

It wasn’t too hard to guess that whatever Dawn was saying wasn’t flattering. This calling would be easier if Dawn weren’t around. But then, Lori supposed that Dawn probably thought a romance with John would be easier if Lori weren’t around. So Lori would try to understand that the other woman was hurting and probably not handling it as well as she wished, either. She’d continue to try to pretend Dawn didn’t despise her.

But then Dawn said, loud enough for Lori to hear—loud enough for most everyone to hear—“Does she think we’re all hicks or something?”

The entire group of women turned, wide-eyed and silent, toward Lori, probably wondering if she’d ignore Dawn’s words—as most probably wanted—or if she’d respond—as Jeanette, with her eyes bright and her mouth smiling, seemed to look forward to.

Lori wasn’t sure what she was going to do, either.

Dawn looked away, and Lori suspected she wished she’d kept quiet.

She wanted to pretend Dawn hadn’t spoken, but when the
silence stretched out longer and longer, becoming incredibly uncomfortable, and Lori’s heart couldn’t beat any faster without nearing the bursting point, she figured she’d look the elephant in the living room in the eye, and try to take the sting out of Dawn’s words with a smile. She was suddenly glad for the chance to let these women know what she really thought, rather than what Dawn Lawson said she thought.

She forced herself to look at Dawn. “To be totally honest, I might have thought something like that six weeks ago when I first arrived, but I don’t anymore. I’ve learned a lot during my short time here.”

She looked away from Dawn and around the room. “Now I believe you’re some of the happiest people I’ve ever known. There is a light in your eyes that makes you”—Lori was surprised at the emotion that swept through her, making her voice tremble—“makes you truly beautiful. And I’m very glad I’ve come to know you all. So, no, I definitely don’t think you ladies are hicks. I just thought you’d enjoy a fun, light-hearted evening, eating and visiting with the other sisters. And I hope we can continue now to do just that.”

The color draining from her face, Dawn snatched up her purse and flew from the room. Jeanette followed her. The rest of the ladies began talking again.

Lori’s heart still raced, and she took a deep breath to try to slow it.

“Well done,” said Agatha. “Excellent speech.”

Lori turned to her. “It’s true.”

And it was. Lori realized she wanted that same light to shine from her own eyes. She recognized it now—it was the same light her mother had, the light that helped her let go of any bitterness toward her ex-husband, Lori’s father.

It had to do with the light. The light of the Gospel. The light of Christ. The light that brought peace.

Lori was tired of the negative emotions of hurt and anger and jealousy that so often coiled and writhed painfully in her chest, coloring everything a dark shade. She wanted to move into the light.

She loved the peaceful way she felt around these people.

Around John.

She wanted peace in her life and light in her eyes.