19

The next morning Amanda appeared briefly in her rumpled sleep shirt, hair tousled, mumbling that she didn’t feel good and wasn’t going to church. She disappeared back into her bedroom. “Let her be,” Denny advised. “Timing is everything.”

As we drove to church, I watched the gray streets go by without really seeing them. I felt badly for Amanda, but my feelings were mixed. She and José had been sweet on each other for over a year already, and they were only sixteen. A year ago this month José had come up with the big idea to throw a quinceañera for Amanda—a formal “coming out” fifteenth birthday party, a Mexican tradition, though by that time Amanda was fifteen-and-a-half. Delores’s son was a sweet boy, but they were really too young to get serious with each other. Some distance wasn’t a bad idea in my book.

“Hey. Look at that,” Denny said, pulling into a parking space facing our shopping center church.

I looked up. Painted across the wide glass windows in a bold red script were the words: SOULEDOUT COMMUNITY CHURCH. A few early shoppers paused and read the sign before heading for the large Dominick’s grocery store that anchored the shopping center. Well. There it was. The new name of our church. I smiled. I think I like it.

I found it hard to concentrate on worship that morning, though. Roller-skating had been fun, and fun was what we needed, but I also felt embarrassed, inviting my Yada Yada sisters and their families into a situation I hadn’t really checked out, music-wise anyway. That language! I cringed just thinking about the few phrases I’d caught. A far cry from the sweet love songs of my parents’ generation. Even rock and roll was tame by comparison. Made me mad that the DJ had blown me off, telling me to speak to the manager if I had a problem . . .

Hey. That was a thought. I could gripe . . . or I could do something about it. My brain started composing a strongly worded letter. Maybe I should start a petition—

A nudge in my spirit pulled me up short. Jodi? Where are you? Did you come to worship Me today? Let’s spend some time together . . .

I squeezed my eyes shut. I’m sorry, Lord. Yes, I want to worship You. I pigeonholed the letter I’d been writing in my head and focused on the song the praise team was singing . . .

Knowing You, Jesus, knowing You . . . There is no greater thing . . .

The song was a new one to me, but easy to pick up. We sang it through two more times, and the words began to sink deeper into my spirit. How glad I was to be in a church where Jesus was “the main thing.” It kept me centered.

The words of the song continued to whisper in my spirit all that afternoon as I worked on a card for Florida’s birthday, reviewed my lesson plans for the coming week, and composed a letter to the roller rink manager.

Knowing You, Jesus . . . There is no greater thing . . .

I sat at the dining room table, chewing on the end of my pen. How easy it was for me to be consumed with everyday busyness, to fret over all the trouble around me, to spin my wheels even over things I could do nothing about—and forget just to spend time in God’s presence. Hadn’t the Holy Spirit already shown me there was a difference between knowing about God and knowing God? I’d started on the journey, but I knew how easy it was for me to get distracted.

Thank You, Father, for reminding me that Jesus made it possible for me to have a relationship with You. A relationship that meant taking time to soak up His Word, listen to His voice, rest in His promises, play music that called me to worship . . .

I got up to put on a praise and worship CD, but the phone rang. “Señora Baxter? Can I, uh, speak to Amanda?” José sounded nervous.

“I’ll see if she’s awake, José. She didn’t feel good today.” Well, that’s what she’d said. And I needed to give Amanda an out if she didn’t want to talk to him.

I covered the mouthpiece and knocked gently on her bedroom door. “Amanda? You awake? Phone for you.” Then I added, “It’s José.”

Silence. I was just about to walk away when the door opened a crack and Amanda held her hand out for the phone. But not two minutes later, I heard Amanda yell, “Fine! If that’s the way you want it, don’t call me anymore!” and the phone came thumping down the hall and cracked into the dining room archway.

The basketball game on television suddenly went mute and Denny appeared in the hallway. “What was that?”

I waved him back with my hand and headed for Amanda’s door. “Amanda?” I knocked but this time didn’t wait for an answer before going in. Amanda was sprawled on her bed, sobbing. A school picture of José had been torn in half and thrown on the floor. I sat down on the bed, pulled her head into my lap, and just let her cry.

DELORES ENRIQUEZ came to Yada Yada at Stu’s that night, but if she knew that José and Amanda had had a huge fight, she didn’t say anything. In fact, she pulled me aside and asked if Denny was home. When I nodded, she said, “Do you think it is all right if I talk to him a few minutes? Mi Ricardo . . .” She bit her lip. “I would very much like it if Denny invited him again to the men’s breakfast at your church. He needs the support of other brothers, though he’d never admit it. In Mexico”—she pronounced it Me-hi-co—“humph.” She rolled her eyes and slapped her motherly bosom. “Our men keep all their feelings locked up here.”

I shooed her downstairs to our apartment, assuring her Denny wouldn’t mind. She passed Nony, Avis, and Chanda, who were on the way up . . . and by the time Delores came back upstairs, most of the others had arrived. Becky was secretly putting candles on the birthday cake she’d made to celebrate Florida’s birthday and managed to smuggle in, even though they’d both ridden over in Avis’s car.

A beaming Estelle, clothed in her handmade top and pants, was introduced all around the circle as Stu’s new housemate . . . until Stu stopped and frowned. “Ruth? Where’s Yo-Yo? Isn’t she coming tonight?”

We all looked at Ruth. For the past year and a half, the Garfields had been Yo-Yo’s sole transportation to Yada Yada. Most anywhere, for that matter. But Ruth stared back blankly. “Um . . . well, we . . .”

“Ruth!” several voices chorused at once. “You forgot Yo-Yo?”

Ruth drew herself up. “So much to think about now to leave the house with twins.”

“But you didn’t bring the babies tonight, Ruth,” Stu pointed out dryly.

“You noticed. Ben is taking care of both of them tonight by himself. A good father, he is!”

Stu unfolded herself from the wicker basket chair where she’d been sitting. “Well, I’m going to call the Good Daddy and tell him to go pick up Yo-Yo and get her over here. I can’t believe you forgot Yo-Yo.” Stu was clearly steamed.

“No,” Ruth said.

“Excuse me?”

Ruth looked at her watch. “By now he will be back home feeding the twins. He can’t take them out again! Feeding. Changing. Burping. Then two snowsuits. Two hats. Four mittens. Strapping them in the car seats . . . an hour it takes!”

“Fine. Then I’ll go get her.” Stu grabbed her purse and jacket and headed for the back door.

“Uh, Stu?” I called after her. “You’re the hostess tonight.”

Stu turned. “So? Estelle can be the hostess.”

“At least call Yo-Yo first. Tell her you’re coming.”

Stu let that sink in, then nodded. But she was back in two minutes, frowning. “No answer. I left a message, told her to call here ASAP and we’d come get her.” She flopped back into the basket chair and busied her hands twisting her long hair into a single braid.

The silence was awkward. I wished Avis would say something or get the meeting started, but she seemed to be waiting. Ruth studied her hands, twisting her wedding ring. Finally, she sighed. “Oh, all right. We forgot. And I am sorry. I will call Yo-Yo and ask her to forgive us. Oy! At my age, when new information goes in the brain”—she tapped the side of her head—“something else falls out. Maybe she should call to remind us . . .”

I doubted if Yo-Yo would do that. One of us might have to call to remind them.

Nonyameko placed a hand on Ruth’s arm. “We forgive you, Ruth.” Nony darted a quick glance at Stu, as if to say, Don’t we, Stu? “We know you did not forget on purpose. I am glad you are going to call Yo-Yo tonight. I’m sure she will understand.” She leaned forward, as if shifting gears. “Hoshi is not here tonight, either, but”—she smiled—“no, I did not forget her. The good news is, young Sara agreed to go with her to the Christian campus group tonight—they call it ReJOYce—and Hoshi wants us to pray.”

The bad news is, my brain filled in, that takes Hoshi away from Yada Yada. But I shook off the thought. Hoshi was doing a good thing. She had “looked for the possibilities” and found a way to befriend lonely, confused Sara.

Hoshi’s prayer request via Nony opened up our prayer time, followed by praise and thanksgiving that Chris Hickman’s case had not been sent to adult court, and more praise that Nony had helped Avis’s daughter find a doctor who specialized in HIV cases. “Yes,” Avis agreed gratefully. “We have an appointment to meet with him next week—all of us.”

“Guess God’s been busy since our last meeting,” Adele said, slipping a grin. “Don’t know if y’all know Estelle, here, has been comin’ over to my house to stay with MaDear while I’m at work.” Her grin widened, showing the little gap between her front teeth. “Have to say Estelle is one big blessing.”

Estelle acted offended. “You talkin’ about my size?” Which got a laugh around the circle, even from Stu. The last of the tension seemed to drain away.

We prayed and praised, and then Becky brought out her cake—in a nine-by-thirteen pan. “Why y’all didn’t tell me this kind was so easy? Jodi had me makin’ them layer cakes, always fallin’ over.” More laughter. We’d decided to bring individual cards for Florida this time, a virtual card shower, with inexpensive gifts—jar candles, a bookmark, candy bars. Becky gave her safety pins and rubber bands. “Why not?” she sniffed. “Seems like nobody can ever find a safety pin or rubber band when they need one. Well, now Flo can.”

We whooped. “Good idea, Becky!”

Stu left the room to answer the phone, and we all looked at each other, thinking the same thing: Yo-Yo returning her call. But when Stu came back, she motioned to Avis. “For you.”

Avis disappeared into the kitchen with the phone. When she returned, she quickly gathered up her Bible and purse. “I need to go home. Dexter called the house.” She held up a hand, stifling the questions that rose to our lips. “Rochelle didn’t think it was him at first because she didn’t recognize the caller ID, but thank goodness, Peter had told her to not answer any calls until she knew for sure who it was, to let the person leave a message. But when she heard Dexter’s voice leaving a message, she got very frightened.” Avis slipped into her winter coat that Stu brought to her. “Pray, sisters. He doesn’t know Rochelle is staying with us, but he’s obviously looking for her.”

YO-YO STILL HADN’T CALLED by the time we left Stu’s apartment. Nony, bless her, took Ruth home so Ben wouldn’t have to bring the babies out again. Why Ruth didn’t just drive herself over, I’d never understand. She’d done it two weeks ago when the Super Bowl started an hour before our Yada Yada meeting. But then again, there was a lot I didn’t understand about Ruth and Ben’s relationship. Despite Ben’s growl and Ruth’s ever-rolling eyes, it seemed like they were devoted to each other. And crazy about those babies.

Stu made Ruth promise she’d call Yo-Yo that evening and apologize. “I’m going to call Yo-Yo too,” Stu muttered to me as Estelle and I helped her clean up the birthday cake crumbs and paper plates. “I’ll let you know if I hear from her.”

When I came down Stu’s carpeted stairs and let myself in by our front door, the house was dark. That’s strange, I thought, flipping on the hall light—

“Eek!” I screeched. Denny was leaning against the archway into the living room, arms folded, a long-stemmed rose in his teeth. “Denny Baxter! You scared me half to death. What are you doing?”

He took the rose out of his mouth and picked his teeth with the end of the stem. “It’s still Valentine’s weekend. Wanna go out on the town?”

“Now?” I glanced at my watch. Eight-thirty. I was in my jeans, my hair was a mess, my makeup faded. I didn’t feel like sprucing up on the spur of the moment.

He waggled the rose at me. “Hate to tell you this, babe, but roller-skating with the Yada Yadas and their assorted offspring—plus fifty other shady characters, strangers all—did not cut it as a romantic Valentine rendezvous. Just you and me. And there’s no school tomorrow. President’s Day. We can sleep in.”

He could sleep in. Willie Wonka always woke me at six-thirty, needing to go out, holiday or no holiday. And it was cold out there, hadn’t he noticed? Frankly, I’d rather crawl into a nice warm bed about now. But I took the outstretched rose, my mind scrambling how to get out of this without hurting his feelings. “Oh, Denny, that’s sweet. But could I take a rain check for tomorrow, when I have more time to get ready? Tonight isn’t—”

“Didn’t think so.” He grinned. “Plan B.” He took my hand. “This way, darlin’.”

Now I was suspicious. He took that rejection too easily.

He opened our bedroom door. The lights were off, but candles flickered from both nightstands, our dressers, even on the floor. The quilt was turned back. Soft music played from the little FM radio we kept in the bedroom. Now it was my turn to grin. It was obvious what he’d had in mind all along . . .

But I tipped my head in the direction of Amanda’s room. “Um, kids?”

“Gone,” he murmured, brushing my hair to the side and nuzzling my neck. “Amanda got a call from the youth group, they’re watching a movie tonight since there’s no school tomorrow. Guess she decided that was better than moping around all evening . . . yeah, yeah, I checked. The movie’s PG. Josh took her, said he’d hang around.”

I stifled a snort. The car wasn’t even here. What if I’d said, Sure, let’s go out tonight! . . . but all I said now was, “Give me five minutes to jump in the shower, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

“Go anywhere?” He was already peeling off his clothes. “I’m coming with you!”