Summer was starting to wish she hadn’t asked Ben for some time apart before their wedding. Sure, planning and dealing with last-minute disasters kept her busy most of the time, but whenever she had a spare moment to stop and think, her thoughts found Ben.
Now she was lying in bed, reading through old comment threads and articles on a popular wedding website as a last-ditch effort to see if she’d missed anything important for her own.
But really all she wanted was for Ben to be her husband and for this ridiculous time apart to end. Was it a bad sign she could hardly make it a few days on her own?
A soft knock sounded on her door, then her aunt pushed her way into the room.
“C’mon,” Aunt Iris said. “Let’s go get gussied up for the big day.”
“We’re not doing hair and makeup until the morning of. You know that.” Summer returned to her iPad, but Aunt Iris didn’t leave.
She stomped over, grabbed Summer’s hand, and inspected it closely. “Ink stains,” she said before raising her own hand demonstratively. “And my old wrinkled hands are always caked in dirt.”
“So a mani-pedi then?” Summer placed the tablet on her nightstand and rose to her feet. There was no denying Aunt Iris when she had an idea. Besides, the bit of pampering would be nice.
Aunt Iris laughed. “If that’s what they’re calling it these days, then sure. I just think we need our nails done. I’ll even drop Sunny Sunshine off at the groomer to get his nails trimmed and beak shined for the big day. What do you say?”
“I say you have yourself a deal,” Summer answered as she searched her closet for something to wear to the salon. A thought struck her. “Can we invite Susan, too?” she asked.
“Best get used to calling her Mom soon,” Iris said with a wink.
“Is that what people do? It just feels so weird. Mom is my mom. Well, sort of.”
“My sister is a lot of things, but we both know she hasn’t been mother of the year here.”
She hated thinking of her mother. The woman practically felt like a stranger and had ever since she’d remarried. Her aunt, on the other hand, had always been far more attentive to Summer’s needs even though they only saw each other a few times per year while she was growing up. Summer frowned, but immediately rearranged her features into a smile. “That’s why I’m lucky to have you, Aunt Iris.”
“The feeling is mutual, kiddo. Now let’s vamoose.”
Summer called Susan’s house phone as Iris drove them both toward the house Summer would soon call home, too. Ben’s mom, of course, jumped at the invitation and soon all three women were seated with their feet in mini baths of sudsy water as a single salon worker flitted back and forth between the three of them, smiling sweetly as she worked but not saying much to anyone.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had any pampering,” Susan said after a long, relaxed sigh.
“That’s just not right,” Iris said, clucking her tongue.
“Do you not like getting manicures . . . Mom?” Summer asked, trying the strange word out and receiving a smile from Susan when she did.
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to call me that if you don’t want to. It’s so weird. I never quite got used to it with John’s parents.” She sighed again—something she did often these days. “Now it doesn’t matter much, I guess.”
Summer reached over and squeezed her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s hand. “I want to. I just have to get used to it first.”
“And you need to get used to spoiling yourself, dearie,” Aunt Iris said from her seat on the opposite side of Summer.
Susan leaned her head back and looked toward the ceiling as she spoke. “I just haven’t seen the need without a fella in my life. You know how it is.”
“Nonsense,” Iris exclaimed. “I’ve never had one, at least not for long, and I do just fine. You get dolled up for yourself, love. Not for a man.”
“She’s right,” Summer added. “Even though that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. Getting pretty for Ben on our wedding day.”
“We’ll let this one pass,” Aunt Iris said with a knowing smile.
“Susan, let’s make a monthly date of this, shall we?” Iris leaned so far forward in her chair as she strained to see Susan that Summer prepared to catch her in case she toppled over. “Lord knows we both need a little extra TLC, and we’re family ourselves, now that our kids are getting married.”
Susan forced a smile and sighed again. “I can’t exactly afford a luxury like this.”
“Don’t say no,” Summer said gently. “She’s absolutely right. Plus we’re adding another salary to the household, and you deserve it. We can all use a little more Aunt Iris in our lives.”
“I’m going to miss you, Sunny Summer.”
“But I’ll just be a few blocks away. You know that.”
“Nope, Susan and Ben are stealing you right out from under my nose.”
Susan started, “Iris, I didn’t know you felt that way. I—”
“She’s only teasing. Don’t worry about it.” Summer shot her aunt a warning look. It would definitely be good for Susan to spend more time with lighthearted Iris, but the much more serious woman needed time to get used to Iris’s teasing ways. As of now, she took everything at face value and was still learning how to relax and to get through her day without turning to alcohol whenever anything upset her. “She’s like my weird aunt and overprotective mother all rolled into one.”
“I guess I can go back to just being weird Aunt Iris now that you have a new mom here.” She leaned back in her chair and let out a happy sigh—a stark contrast to the dramatic sighing Susan was always doing.
Susan worried her lip. “What happened to your mother, Summer? Why isn’t she coming? I’m sorry to pry, but you just don’t talk about her, and it doesn’t seem to bother you much that she’s not here.”
“Of course, it bothers me.” Summer sighed, too. Between the three of them, they had probably let out enough air to fuel a hot-air balloon. “But I kind of gave up on my mom a long time ago. We all have our own choices to make. I don’t like the ones she’s made, but I can’t change them for her. Maybe one day we’ll reconnect, but until then, I have plenty of family right here.”
“Hear, hear!” Iris said, raising her bottle of water in salute.
“Well, I’m proud to call you my daughter,” Susan said with a shy smile.
“Me, too!” Iris added.
They both reached out to squeeze Summer’s hands at the same time, and she knew then just how lucky she was to call Sweet Grove home and to have these women as family.
* * *
Ben trod up the steps of the little white church on First Street. So much had changed since he had come here as a child, holding tightly to his mom’s hand on one side and his big brother’s on the other, being promised an ice cream if he was good during the service. The church hadn’t split off into a separate Sunday school class until Ben had long stopped attending and would have been too old for it anyway.
For years, the church had been a symbol of the many things wrong in Ben’s life—the God who had turned a blind eye to Stephen’s suffering, the topic of many of the fights between his parents, the gathering place of a community that Ben had never quite felt a part of.
How much things had changed.
Now the First Street Church was the only place Ben could think to go for answers and clarity—yes, even more so than his beloved library. God had become one of the only constants in his life. God and Summer . . . except Ben didn’t feel worthy of Summer, yet he knew he could come to the Lord flawed and broken.
Which is what he did now, walking reverently toward the altar. The large stained-glass window cast dancing swatches of colors from above, creating an ethereal feel. Fresh carpet that didn’t quite match the original ran down the aisle, and lingering sawdust lined the edges of the sanctuary.
Termites, Ben remembered. They’d tried to tear the church down, but luckily it had been built on rock instead of sand, he thought, remembering the parable his mother had taught him in childhood.
He reached the front pew and sat with his elbows on his knees, his hands in his hair, his head bowed. In the nearly one year since his return to the church, Ben had asked God for many things: patience, understanding, a solution to his mother’s problems, a happy future for him and Summer.
Today he had so many questions swirling about his head that he wasn’t even sure what he could ask of God. He pictured Summer’s smiling face promising to love him forever and always, then his mother’s face clenched with anguish. He saw Jeffrey so worried about being nice that he forgot to look out for his own interests. He saw his father’s new wife, Megan, unaware of their pasts.
And he saw his father, standing beside him, begging for a fresh chance. His features looked so much like Stephen’s, which only made it more painful to look upon the man whom he blamed for so many of his life’s worries.
What did it all mean? How did Ben fit into this patchwork community?
He tried to call up Summer’s image again but remained stuck on his father, whose likeness had now merged with Stephen’s in his mind.
Anger, so much anger. And regret.
A part of him knew he needed to let go, to forgive, give his father another chance. But what if, in allowing his father back into his life, he only ended up hurting worse? What if Summer or his mother took the brunt of that pain?
Would that make him like Jeffrey, who still struggled with expressing his own needs and desires?
It was all so confusing.
“Please grant me clarity,” he murmured. “Amen.”
When he looked up, he saw Pastor Bernie sitting on the pew across the aisle with his Bible in hand. “Clarity,” he echoed. “A good prayer.”
“I didn’t see you here when I came in.”
“That’s because I’ve only just arrived. Tell me, Ben, is there something weighing on your heart? Something you’d like to discuss?”
“I don’t know.”
“All change is stressful, you know. Not just the bad things, but the good, too. Weddings tend to cast a harsh light on our lives, our ambitions. They put everything into perspective.” Pastor Bernie smiled, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead at the stained-glass window before them.
“That’s definitely true.” Ben sighed and steepled his fingers. “Will all of this go away once the wedding is over?”
“No,” the pastor said with a smile. “But it will go away once you surrender it to God.”
“Believe me, I’m trying.” As Ben said this, the pastor turned toward him and offered a thoughtful glance.
“It’s hard with your father here, remembering everything that happened with your family.”
“I wish he wasn’t here. It’s so much easier to pretend he doesn’t exist, that he died with Stephen.” Ben felt guilty for even thinking the words, let along saying them aloud. But if he couldn’t be honest with the pastor and with God, he could never hope to be truly honest with himself or with Summer, either.
“Fathers,” Bernie said with a deep exhale. “Mine beat me six ways to Sunday. Until Sundays were the only thing I lived for, finding comfort from my heavenly Father, getting away from the one on earth for a couple short hours each week.”
This was news to Ben. The pastor spent so much time listening to others’ problems, he almost never mentioned his own. Ben felt selfish in that moment, knowing his father had never raised a hand to him, yet somehow Pastor Bernie could forgive and Ben could not. Now it was Ben who looked away as he spoke. “I had no idea,” he mumbled. “I’m so sorry.”
“The Lord doesn’t send us anything we can’t handle. I had a hard time growing up, but the situation also gave me a solid base of faith, and that I have never regretted. We need trials in order to grow, to discover who we really are.”
“That’s what I worry about,” Ben admitted. “Finding out who I really am in the end. He’s my father. What if it’s only a matter of time before I follow in his footsteps? Before I let Summer down?”
“We are each our own person, and we are each a child of God. You make your own choices, Ben. Make them to the glory of God, and you will always do well.” The pastor laughed and pulled up his shirt sleeve to show off a dark-blue band around his wrist.
“Remember these from, oh, twenty years ago? WWJD: What Would Jesus Do? Sure, a lot of folks wore them as fashion statements, but to me it means so much more. That’s why I wear it to this day, to have that reminder right on my body, sitting above a vein that leads straight to my heart, a heart for God.”
“Awesome,” Ben said, unable to think of any other response.
Bernie chuckled. “It is pretty awesome, isn’t it?”
“I still don’t know what to do,” Ben admitted.
“Give it to God,” Bernie answered. “The fact that you want to do right by those in your life speaks volumes. Remain faithful, continue coming to God, and remember to ask yourself, ‘What would Jesus do?’”
“That’s it?” Ben asked. “Usually you have much more specific advice.”
“That’s it. It’s the advice that encompasses all advice.”
Just then a perky series of chimes and whirls sounded from Pastor Bernie’s pocket. “Excuse me,” he said, standing to fish his cell phone from the front pocket of his khakis.
He smiled at Ben and nodded as he listened to the speaker on the other end of the line. Ben could hear a frantic female voice, but not the words she was saying. The room grew quiet, and the pastor’s smile faded into a deep frown. The lines on his forehead furrowed with worry.
He simply said, “Okay, I’m on my way,” and then placed his phone carefully back into his pocket.
“Is everything okay?” Ben asked, not wanting to pry but figuring it would be ruder still to ignore the newly arrived elephant in the room.
“I’m not sure, but just like you, I’m going to give it to God.” Pastor Bernie approached Ben and reached out his hand to clasp Ben’s in a firm shake, a promise. “I need to leave town for a couple of days, but I promise I’ll be back in time for the wedding. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Ben hugged him goodbye and watched as the pastor rushed away. He said one more prayer for whoever it was who’d called Pastor Bernie in such a frantic state and then lifted himself to his feet and headed home.