Last to troop through the front door, Molly waved at Julian as he walked past the beach house. Lamplight reflected off his glasses and revealed his enigmatic smile.
“Goodnight, ladies!”
“’Night!” Molly called out, chuckling over what he must think of them, together one night and not the next. He probably chalked it up to women being women. Maybe that was why he wasn’t married.
At her elbow, Char whispered, “Our guardian angel, out on his nightly crusade to help the helpless.”
Andie smiled. “And offer hope to the hopeless.”
“Uplift the downtrodden,” Molly added as she shut the door.
“Encourage the despondent,” Andie chortled.
Char said, “Rescue damsels in distress.”
Giggles overtook the three of them.
Jo rolled her eyes. “You three probably want to invite him inside to play Trivial Pursuit.”
“Nope,” Char said. “I have to make a phone call.”
Andie walked across the room. “And I want to put on my jammies. Then I’ll find the game. I know I saw it in one of these closets.”
“Good.” Jo sprawled facedown onto the couch and moaned. “I’m not up for company. I don’t want to see another piece of cheesecake for a long time!”
Molly followed Char into the hallway, unbuttoning the waistband on her slacks. “Jammies sound good to me. Gotta make room for the popcorn.”
Char laughed. “Popcorn! We just ate. You are pregnant, girl.” She walked into her room and Molly went to hers.
She shut the door and sat on the edge of her bed. Something besides her waistband felt binding. It was probably in her spirit.
“Okay, Lord, what is it? I’m listening now. I’m done whining. For the moment, anyway. You understand that, right? I’m only human.”
Fussing had consumed a lot of energy, energy put to better use when she took her mind off herself. She slid to the floor and knelt beside the bed.
“Lord, I praise You. You alone are God and worthy of praise.” She touched her abdomen. “I don’t like this situation. It’s not what I wanted for my future. But You’re in charge. I’ll try to let You be in charge. I guess…”
She hesitated, knowing full well she still held back, her fist squeezed around a puny sense of control.
“I guess—Oh! Like You don’t know what I’m thinking. The thing is I do not want to pry my fingers apart and let go! But if I don’t, I’ll just be miserable. So I guess I’m asking You to…” She buried her face in her hands and whispered, “Change my heart. Please change my heart.”
The prayer was a familiar one. Change my heart. I don’t want to leave Chicago. I don’t want to marry a pastor. I don’t want to quit teaching. I don’t want more than two children. I don’t want to live in the Northwest. I really don’t want to live in a dinky one-horse town in the Northwest. I don’t want to admit marriage and children have not fulfilled me.
God always answered, and she always felt, in the end, that He enabled her to go with the flow, His holy flow.
But this one? This one was the hardest of all.