Several doors north of the squished red chili of a beach house, Kenzie sat on the seawall, legs dangling beneath her long black skirt, booted heels tapping rhythmically back against the concrete. Through a continual stream of joggers, amblers, bicyclers, and in-line skaters along the boardwalk in front of her, she watched her mother in the distance.
At first she didn’t recognize Susan. Her hair was short and she wore a multicolored skirt unlike anything that had ever hung in her closet. It flowed to her ankles and the setting sun glittered off its sequins or rhinestones or something sparkly. Instead of the usual blouse and blazer, she wore a plain short-sleeved, green top. If Kenzie didn’t know better, she’d guess the outfit was bought at a shop down the street, the one that sold hippie-style clothing.
Susan greeted women as they arrived on the patio. Pugsy bopped around, overly excited with the commotion of having company. The Marthas lingered outdoors before going into the house, jabbering and laughing in the warmish spring air. Everyone came for the baby shower.
Kenzie’s baby shower.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to join them.
Aunt Nattie was there, of course, the party giver. She’d been the one to call and invite her, the only reason Kenzie sat almost within shouting distance of the beach house now. She promised it wasn’t a big deal. Only the Martha Mavens and Pepper Carlucci were available to attend. Kenzie was at least acquainted with all the women and—the true test—Aunt Nattie liked them. She also promised no dorky games.
Although Pepper ran a close second, Aunt Nattie won first place as the coolest woman Kenzie knew. If she sang in a band, her style would be bluesy jazz. Her voice was smoky, hoarsened from a lifetime of shouting at high volume on athletic fields.
Her aunt had introduced Kenzie to soccer, Jack Kerouac books, and U2 music. She seldom got bent out of shape, even with her two sons who behaved like total brats at times. As far as her husband went, absolutely no Starr family resemblance existed between Uncle Rex and Kenzie’s dad. Grandma and Grandpa Starr must have adopted one of the brothers and kept it a deep secret.
Emmylou Bainbridge arrived now. Kenzie grimaced when she saw her. She was humongous and walked as though she’d been riding on the back of a horse for days on end. Was that what pregnancy did to a body? Maybe Emmylou was expecting twins. Or triplets. Quadruplets? Kenzie really hoped so, hoped it wasn’t the norm.
Emmylou was funny and sweet. Definitely a country western style. No one could understand half of what she said in that thick drawl of hers. If her husband showed up, lingering doubts about going inside would vanish in a heartbeat. Robbie was a Marine, just as friendly as his wife, and—more importantly—the hunkiest hunk at Holy Cross Fellowship.
Mildred and Leona, the elderly twins, hobbled into view now. They were—
“Hey, sister!” The friendly voice came from behind her. “Is that you?”
Kenzie recognized the voice before she turned. It belonged to Zeke, a guy who knew everyone at the beach but seldom remembered a name. He addressed them all as “sister” or “brother.” Considering how he talked a lot about Jesus and often carried a Bible, it sounded natural coming from him.
“Hey, Zeke!” She shook his outstretched hand and grinned.
Zeke’s exuberance was enough to fill her with laughter, but his looks carried it to another level. If he were a musician, he would definitely sing reggae, Bob Marley style. She once asked him if he was born in Jamaica, but he said no, San Diego was his birthplace. His long deep brown hair sprouted every which way in countless twisted dreadlocks, and his dark brown eyes were like magnets drawing her in. She had no idea how old he was.
She said, “How you doing?”
“I am fantastic, sister. Fantastic. Living and breathing in God’s grace day by day. Watching Him work wonders in the souls of my homeless brothers. How about yourself?”
“Fine.” She groaned. That was so her mother’s voice. “Actually.” She wore a denim jacket of Aidan’s that covered what now resembled a serious beer paunch. Holding it aside she patted her stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow!”
She laughed. “Yeah. I’m down here for a baby shower. My mom’s staying at Faith’s house.” Zeke had known Faith Fontaine and was friends with Julian.
“Who’s the daddy of this little one?”
“Aidan Carlucci.”
“Oh, oh! Look at you blush, just saying his name. You are in love, aren’t you? I hope he’s a good one.”
“He’s a good one. We sing together. He writes most of our band’s music.”
“No kidding? He’s gifted then.”
“He is. We’re going to make a CD. You know, a real professional kind of thing that stores will sell. We didn’t plan on a baby already but…” She shrugged.
“Our Father knows this baby, knows when it’s time for him to be born. He sees him right now and loves him more than even his mama or daddy can.”
Kenzie sure hoped so.
Comfort flowed from Zeke, and she wished she could bottle it up and take it home.
He glanced toward the beach house. “Looks like quite a group. How come you’re over here and not over there?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I guess because I don’t feel welcome over there.”
“Say what? I thought you said this shower was for you.”
“It’s a bunch of churchwomen. And Aidan’s mom. She’s cool. But see, Aidan and I aren’t married and my dad—” Her throat closed up.
“Hmm. He’s a preacher, right?”
She nodded.
“Mm-hmm. Probably got a reputation to uphold in front of his congregation. He thinks this puts him in a bad light.”
She nodded again.
“That happens, sister. That happens. And not just with preachers. All kinds of people let their false self rule their hearts. They just don’t know how to let out the true self, the forgiven one who’s freed up to love and be loved. Then they gotta blame someone else for reminding them how miserable they are.”
Kenzie swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“Your daddy just took his eyes off the cross. He’ll come round. He’s going to be a grandpa!” Zeke grinned, a white slash against his dark chocolate skin. “I got one question for you, little sister.”
She waited.
“You think all those women would come if they didn’t want to see you?”
The Martha Mavens would help out her mom in any way they could. But Emmylou looked ready to pop; she couldn’t be comfortable. The twins had traveled far and through rush hour traffic; old people avoided those things. Aunt Nattie probably should have been at a soccer practice; she always hated letting an assistant take charge. Beautiful Gwyn should have been out on a date. Pepper had come straight from work and literally had a hundred other things to do at home. And now there was Tess Harmon greeting Susan. Surely the director of women’s ministries had more important business.
Kenzie smiled at Zeke and shook her head. No, they wouldn’t come unless they wanted to see her.