Faith slipped into the program on Sunday morning twenty minutes late. She hurried into Lake Pine Community Church and was quickly redirected to the older section of the small complex, which was connected to the worship center by a breezeway where the children’s performance platform was erected at one end, with rows of aluminum folding chairs filling the remainder of the large room.
The Marin family sat in the front left row, an alarming discovery given it required her to march up the entire center aisle, alerting everyone in attendance that she was not on time.
Any effort to reduce the distraction her entrance caused was nullified given the need to murmur “excuse me” repeatedly as she brushed against the knees of Penny Baker and her daughter-in-law and past Dr. and Mrs. Brock before finally reaching her empty seat beside her husband.
“Hey, where’ve you been?” Geary whispered.
“Sorry, time got away from me,” she whispered back, hoping he’d understand. He’d wanted her to go to church with him, but she’d begged off, needing extra sleep from working all night at the dining table. She’d promised to meet him for the twins’ program, not expecting to get caught up again when she’d peeked at her project this morning. Before she knew it, her coffee had grown cold and she’d cut the time so close she had to skip a shower. Instead she simply pulled her hair back into a ponytail and put on a dab of mascara, glossed her lips, and raced out the door.
Her mother-in-law, obviously overhearing their exchange, patted her knee. “Don’t worry about it, dear. Glad you’re here now.”
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but the comment only served to magnify her guilt. In the dim light of the room, she worried her nail between her teeth. Could she help it if juggling all this was getting to be a little bit too much? The pressure to bring in a story that was fresh and interesting, that would help her stand out, was immense. On top of that, fitting into the Marin family was a bit like walking a muddy field in heels.
Instinctively, she knew they all thought she had her priorities wrong. But none of the Marins really understood the demands of her job, one that sometimes required everything in order to succeed.
Geary fished for a living. Sure, she knew his profession carried a certain amount of stress, but nothing like what she experienced. His schedule was much more flexible.
Besides, it was her job at the station that provided their health insurance, retirement benefits, and a steady paycheck. Geary and his family should understand when she often had to make her career top priority.
Up on stage, a group of toddlers finished singing “Jesus Loves Me.” Well, at least they stood up there while the teacher sang. One little guy, Faith guessed him to be about three, picked at his nose, stopping only to wave at his parents while exiting the stage.
The pianist immediately switched to a lively tune while a group of high school kids set up a canvas backdrop hand-painted with a tent and palm trees. Another couple of kids hoisted in buckets and poured sand at the base of the scene.
With the stage set complete, a Sunday school teacher led about a dozen children, all kindergarten age, up the steps and centered them in position. All wore sandals and were dressed in long tunics with colorful sashes, except for the two on the end—Gabby and Gunner.
The Sitterle kids wore white T-shirts and sweatpants covered in large white cotton balls with matching hats that sported ears. Apparently, Geary’s niece and nephew were sheep.
Down the aisle several seats, Dilly beamed. Bobby Lee elbowed Wendell with pride.
Faith had to admit, her husband’s niece and nephew were pretty cute up there.
She slipped her hand into Geary’s and gave a squeeze, a signal that she wanted a truce, even if war had never been officially declared.
As if reading her mind, he squeezed her hand back.
Veta leaned in her direction. “Those costumes were a real pain to make,” she whispered.
Faith listened to the story of Joseph and his brothers, of how they sold him into slavery as a result of their jealousy. Years later, God would turn what they intended for evil into good, ultimately setting up a situation for Joseph to bless the very ones who’d hurt him most.
She’d heard that story a number of times and wondered if Joseph felt bitterness in those years when he’d been exiled at the hands of his family—the ones who were supposed to love and care for him but didn’t.
She wondered if he felt like God had abandoned him.
Her own mother had done her best, she supposed. Perhaps she’d tried to love well, and couldn’t. Wasn’t that the whole gist of the Bible story? What good would it do to harbor ill will for all the ways her mother’s love fell short, when all that would do was sap her energy and keep her from becoming all she could be?
Even so, her mother had definitely fallen short of winning any parenting awards.
One Easter, her mom made a big deal of going to church. She bought brand-new outfits at Sears—a little pinstriped suit for Teddy Jr. complete with a tiny blue tie, and for Faith a light yellow dress with white polka dots and a wide satin sash that tied at the back. “Now, don’t get your clothes dirty,” she warned as they shuffled into the car.
Unfortunately, Faith got a bloody nose on the way home from church. “No!” her mother screamed when she saw the dark red splatters on the front of the dress.
Ignoring her bloody nose, Faith’s mother tore the dress from her back as soon as they reached the front door, then ran to the kitchen sink with it, dousing the fabric with dish soap and running cold water over the stained portion. Her mother scrubbed harder and harder, murmuring under her breath.
A few days later, Faith accompanied her mom back to the Sears store. Handing a receipt to the clerk, her mother smiled and said, “I’d like to return this dress. I’m afraid it didn’t quite fit my little girl.”
The woman behind the cash register scowled. “Store policy is not to accept returns on purchases that have been worn. I’m sorry.” She tried to hand the dress back.
Faith’s mother refused to accept the garment. Instead she shook her head. “What do you mean you won’t take the dress back?”
“The dress has been worn,” the clerk repeated.
This seemed to push her mom over the edge. She screamed in protest, “What kind of fool are you? Do you know who my husband is? Are you aware I am a loyal customer who has shopped this store for years?” She pointed her polished red nail at the distressed young woman. “You’ll take that dress back or I’ll never bring my business to this store again. Do you hear me? Never!”
A small crowd gathered, some pointing and whispering. Faith recognized a little girl from school. The commotion seemed to scare her and she hid behind her own mother’s legs.
Geary leaned over and startled her back to the present. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
“Huh?” Faith let the bad memory slip from her mind. “Yeah, sure.”
Up on the stage, the teacher bent down on one knee and addressed the kids in the program. “Can anyone tell me what the moral of this story is? What are we supposed to do when our brothers or sisters do something that makes us mad?”
Gunner glanced sideways at his sister. “Smack ’em,” he loudly announced without giving his answer a second thought.
His quick response garnered a laugh from the audience, despite the misdirected nature.
Gabby, on the other hand, didn’t find her brother’s remark so funny. She scowled and paid him back with a shove. Before Gunner had a chance for retribution, both Dilly and Bobby Lee darted onto the stage, taking hold of their little darlings. They marched them off the stage while the Sunday school teacher, who now looked a bit harried, quickly closed out the program and thanked everyone for coming.
When the lights came up, Veta shook her head. “Dilly and Bobby Lee sure have their hands full with those two.”
Wendell agreed. “Nothing a little party on the backside wouldn’t cure.”
“Now, honey, we raised our family. You let them raise theirs.”
He folded his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Yes, dear.” He winked at Faith. “But I think a refresher sermon on training up your children might be appropriate for next Sunday.”
As they parted in the parking lot, Wendell waved and shouted in their direction, “See you at the bowling alley.”
Faith looked at Geary as they neared his pickup. “The bowling alley?”
“Yeah,” he answered as he took out his keys. “Mom promised the kids we’d all go to Gutter Busters after the program. And I think Dilly said she had some big news she wanted to share.”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “But, honey, you know I’m on air tonight. I need to spend this afternoon working on my story.”
“All day?”
“I told you that. I want to have my idea ready to pitch to Clark tomorrow. At least in skeleton form.”
Geary opened his door. “But what do I tell my family?”
Really? Was he going to pull that on her again? Make her feel guilty? Especially after she just gave up her entire morning to watch his niece and nephew in a church program?
“Fine! I’ll go.” She stomped to the passenger door and yanked it open. “You’ll have to bring me back for my car.”
“Are you going to be unreasonable about all this?”
“Unreasonable? My job can’t always take a backseat to your family plans.” She turned on the radio, dialing into her favorite classic channel.
Geary scowled as he pulled out of their parking spot. “Jobs come and go. But family is what is really important, don’t you think?”
His comment made her blood instantly run thicker, warmer. “What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything, only that—”
She raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like you’re accusing me of not having my priorities straight.”
Couldn’t he recall all the concessions she’d been making lately? Seems the compromises were getting pretty one-sided. She didn’t see him making a lot of adjustments in their married life.
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Faith. You’re overthinking things again. That’s not what I meant.” He pasted on an exaggerated smile and waved at the Hendersons as he nosed his pickup forward.
“Well, what did you mean?” she challenged.
“I mean, we don’t want to start this marriage with all the emphasis being shifted from what’s really important. That’s all.” He leaned over and changed the channel to a country western station. “Sundays are supposed to be a day of rest, a time to focus on family.”
Oh, he didn’t really just change her channel! She glared at him and reached for the radio dial.
He looked across the seat at her. “Oh, now that’s a bit childish, don’t you think?”
Shaking inside, she held up her hand. “Look, I’m not doing this.” True—she could verbally spar with him, try to make him see what a jerk he was being. But what was the point? She certainly wasn’t about to turn into her mother here in the church parking lot. “Fine. Have it your way.”
Geary rubbed at his chin. “Okay, listen, I’m not trying to start a fight here. I just wanted to make sure—”
In exasperation, she glared back at him. “Please don’t push your luck. I gave in and said I’d go already.”
His jaw locked. “Fine.”
“Fine,” she repeated.
They rode to the bowling alley in silence, a silence that marched across the sunbaked asphalt with them and through the front door.
Inside, Gutter Busters was like any bowling alley, with bright flashing lights, far too much noise, and the smell of fried food mingled with the slight aroma of lane oil.
Just her idea of a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon when she had work stacked up. Especially when she and Geary had let themselves grow sour with one another.
At the rear of the building, the owners maintained a full-service Chinese restaurant with paper lanterns hanging over booths with red leather bench seats. A large wall menu announced that they offered kung pao chicken, chow mein, spring rolls, and fried rice, in addition to four kinds of pizza and hand-scooped milk shakes in thirteen flavors.
Geary joined his dad up at the counter. He and Wendell sparred about who would pay. Wendell won.
Without saying anything, Geary put his hand on Faith’s back and guided her to their assigned lanes. “You need my help?” he asked.
“Nope. I got it.”
His mother watched, looking first at him, then back at her. “Everything okay?” she asked.
Faith forced a bright smile. “Yeah, sure. I haven’t been bowling for years. I just hope I can keep up with all of you.”
Veta was too polite to press the matter. Instead she patted Faith on the back. “Well, c’mon. Let’s show these men how it’s done.”
The Marin family found ways to be enthusiastic about almost everything, but never more than bracing for some good old-fashioned competition.
Wendell quickly split them into two teams—Geary, his mother, and Bobby Lee on one team, Wendell, Faith, and Dilly on the other.
Geary placed his ball on the return. “Hey, Dill. You up for this?”
“Goodness, yes. I’m not sitting anything out,” Dilly replied. She lifted little Sam into one of the hard plastic seats on the other side of the ball return.
Faith gave Geary’s nephew a little smile. He stared back, his thumb tucked deep inside his mouth.
Bobby Lee stepped forward. “Before this competition begins, Dilly and I have news.” He placed his hands on his wife’s belly. “The Sitterle family just learned we’re having another baby.”
Dilly giggled. “Yup, we prayed for the Lord to rain down blessings and he forgot to turn off the faucet.”
Veta’s hands went to her mouth. “Oh my goodness. That’s wonderful.” She rushed to her daughter and drew her into a tight hug.
Wendell patted Bobby Lee on the back. “Well, God said to be fruitful and multiply. Congratulations!” He turned to Geary. “Better take lessons, son.”
Faith cringed. Sure, she wanted children when the timing was right, but certainly she didn’t want Geary’s family weighing in on their personal decisions.
Dilly said she was about two months along, and that she wasn’t even getting sick this time.
Faith gave her sister-in-law a hug. “I’m so happy for all of you,” she said, while trying not to think about how Dilly and Bobby Lee barely controlled the offspring they already had.
As if on cue, the twins tore across the badly stained industrial carpet toward the arcade room—that is, until Bobby Lee hollered and told them to get back. Without acknowledging their father’s instruction, they diverted and chased each other, running in front of the neighboring teams.
Dilly marched in that direction. “Gabby! Gunner! Get over here,” she shouted.
The twins ignored her as well and raced over to the vending machines near the back wall. “Dad, can we have a quarter?” they shouted over their shoulders while pounding the glass.
Faith looked over at Geary. Normally, their eyes would connect in solidarity, exchanging a silent understanding that they would raise their own children differently when the time came.
Geary wasn’t paying attention. He grabbed his rental shoes and bent to put them on.
She picked up her own rental shoes, set her resolve, and sat in a seat opposite him. She removed her leather flats and shoved on the ugly brown lace-up rentals, wondering how many pairs of sweating feet had been inside. She pulled the laces tight and tied them, then stood, primed for a face-off.
Bobby Lee frowned. “Well, look who’s here.” He pointed toward the door.
Her eyes followed where he directed. Walking toward them was Stacy Brien. Her dark hair was pulled up and carelessly clipped at the top of her head, showing off large gold earrings dangling from her ears. The image gave off the exotic look of a gypsy.
Great. That’s all I need this afternoon on top of everything else.
Bobby Lee wiggled his fingers in a wave at Stacy, then turned back toward Faith, his eyes flashing yellow lights of caution.
Wendell clapped his hands together. “Well, look who’s here. You up for some bowling, Stacy? You’re welcome to join us.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No thanks, just heard y’all were over here and thought I’d come watch for a bit before my massage appointment.”
Wendell nodded. “Ah—well, okay then.” To everyone else he said, “Okay, Marins, y’all ready for this?” He moved to the ball rack and tried several out, finally settling on a dark navy ball with tiny white specks.
Veta set up the electronic score sheet, seeming to punch buttons randomly. She hollered back over her shoulder, “We’re the Lane Changers. What’s your team name going to be?”
Dilly pulled her long red hair back and secured it with a rubber band. “Uh, we’ll be the King Pins.”
Bobby Lee pointed at his wife’s stomach. “More like the Diaper Pins.”
She playfully slapped his arm. “People don’t even use those anymore, silly.”
Stacy slid into a seat not far from Geary. He nodded hello and she gave him a brilliant smile, which irked Faith to no end.
Bobby Lee sidled in next to the vixen and pulled off his boots. “Whew,” he said, waving one near her. “Dilly, I think you’d better buy some more of that foot powder.”
Stacy didn’t hide the fact she was repulsed by the smell. She darted up and moved over behind Wendell and Veta.
Bobby Lee winked at Faith.
Wendell seemed to second-guess his initial choice of bowling ball and eyed another on the rack. Dilly sidled up next to him and bumped her dad’s shoulder with hers. “C’mon, Dad. The ball doesn’t matter. It’s all in the follow-through.” She showed him by example, though her practice swing seemed a bit off-kilter.
“The mighty King Pins will whoop on the Lane Changers any day of the week, and twice on Sunday,” she bragged. “Oh, well, will you look at that? It’s Sunday,” she said loud enough for the entire bowling alley crowd to hear.
Bobby Lee grinned. “That so?”
Dilly nodded. “Yup, you just wait and see.” Her head turned. “Gabby! Gunner! Stay close now.”
Bobby Lee waved his children back. “Do what your mama says or there will be consequences.”
Faith let out a heavy sigh. Critical work hours were ticking away, and she was stuck in a bowling alley of all places, with misbehaving children wreaking havoc on her mental state. And a dark-haired diva who set Faith’s nerves on edge every time she came near.
Still, she’d agreed to sing along, no matter how off-key the situation. Now she just needed to make the best of it.
Dilly was up first. Her sister-in-law positioned her ball against the top of her stomach, then took several quick steps toward the foul line and swung through, releasing the ball down the lane. She scowled after discovering she’d only knocked down five pins.
Her second try resulted in a disappointing gutter ball.
Little Sam popped the thumb from his mouth and clapped his chubby hands together.
Dilly returned to her seat and kissed the top of his head. “Thank you, baby.”
Geary looked back at his sister and gloated. “Ah, too bad. Guess it’s my turn now.” He stood and retrieved his ball from the return. Acting like a pro or something, he waved first one open palm then the other over the air jet.
Faith rolled her eyes.
“Watch and see how it’s done,” he said to no one in particular. Stacy mouthed “good luck” in his direction and flashed him another brilliant smile.
Dilly scooped up Sam from the adjoining seat and handed the toddler off to her family’s friend. “Stacy, do you mind? I swear, I seem to have to go to the bathroom every ten minutes.”
Stacy opened her mouth to protest, but Dilly scurried away.
Geary lined up with confidence.
“Careful,” Wendell warned his son with a wide smile. “Pride goes before a fall.” He stood with his hands on his hips and watched as Geary made his approach and drove his ball down the lane.
In a near perfect arc, the black bowling ball made its way down the right side, very near the gutter, then turned at the last minute to knock down all the pins.
Geary pumped the air with his fist. “Strike!”
“Very good, son. Very good,” his mother commended.
Stacy clapped. Little Sam mimicked her and pressed his pudgy palms together several times.
Faith sighed. Obviously, Geary was not new to this bowling business—a game she’d only occasionally tried, each time playing badly.
Veta turned. “Faith, dear. You’re up next.”
She stood. She needed to save face and not make a fool of herself. Stepping forward, she tried to ignore the pressure and mentally conjured the little she remembered about how to line up and just where to aim the ball.
“You got this?” Wendell asked, hopeful.
Faith nodded. “Yup, I got this.” Her words sounded far more confident than she felt. Still, she drew a deep breath, suddenly hearing her mother’s voice in her head. Fake it until you make it.
She stepped onto the wooden platform and positioned herself at the foul line. All she had to do was aim her ball at the center arrow painted on the lane several feet ahead of her. She might not make a strike like Geary. But she wouldn’t completely humiliate herself.
She squared her shoulders. From behind, Geary was no doubt watching her every move. As was Stacy. Even though it was a long shot, she wanted to score a strike and wipe off the smug smile she imagined on that woman’s face.
With artificial confidence, she took one step and pulled the ball back. Her feet moved through the rest of the approach and she followed through, letting the ball make its way down the alley.
She held her breath, watching as the ball slowly rolled forward, a little too much to the right, she was afraid. Then, in a stroke of pure luck, pins flew.
“Attagirl.” Wendell watched from the sideline. “A baby split.”
A what?
She looked over at her father-in-law, trying to hide her confusion.
“You can pick up the two and the seven. You can do it,” he assured her.
She nodded and retrieved her ball from the return, passing right in front of Geary on the way. Not daring to look at her husband, she mimicked drying her palms on the air jet.
Just fake it, she reminded herself.
Her second try wasn’t as big of a success. She only took down the seven pin.
“Ah, better luck next time,” she heard Geary say, in the same syrupy manner one might use to give condolences to a child whose pet frog had died.
She didn’t need any superfluous sympathy, thank you very much.
She parked her bottom in the hard orange chair, then yanked her iPhone from her bag and scanned some of the articles she’d bookmarked.
Little Gabby planted herself next to Faith. “Are you all mad again?”
Dilly quickly waved over her daughter. “C’mon over here and let me do something with that hair.” She licked her fingers and settled some wild blonde tresses behind the little girl’s ear.
Gabby wiggled away and went back to chasing her brother around the seating area, accidently bumping against Faith as she ran by.
Frustrated, Faith slipped her phone back in her purse. Her sister-in-law stood and rubbed at her back. “I think I’m the one needing that massage.”
“Yes, and on that note I’d better get going.” Apparently, Stacy had quickly tired of sitting on the sidelines, in more ways than one.
Everyone bid her goodbye, then focused back on the competition.
While Geary leaned over his mother, explaining again how the automatic scoring worked, Faith folded her arms tightly against her chest and waited for her next turn.
“Hey, are you guys hungry?” Bobby Lee plopped down several white cardboard containers on a nearby table. “Anybody up for some spring rolls or crab Rangoon?”
Gabby and Gunner slammed up against the table, out of breath. “I’m hungry,” Gunner said, brushing sweaty hair off his forehead with his arm.
Gabby leaned over with her arms on the table. “Me too. I’m starving, Daddy.”
Faith’s own growling stomach suggested she was hungry as well.
“Okay. Now, stand back,” Bobby Lee instructed. He motioned little Sam over and opened the tops of the steaming containers. Before he doled out food, he handed the twins and Sam fortune cookies, reversing the common “dinner first” mantra.
Her brother-in-law saw her watching and tossed her a fortune cookie. “Here, catch.”
She ripped off the clear cellophane and broke the crisp cookie in two, shoving a piece inside her mouth. The fortune inside read, He who climbs fastest doesn’t always climb higher.
She groaned and crumpled the piece of paper, no longer hungry. Even the fortune cookie was laying guilt on her.
Wendell stood behind his wife, looking up at the scoreboard. He rubbed his wife’s shoulders—even though she was the competition.
Maybe she’d gone a bit overboard with her reaction. Truth was, she really could hang out with Geary and his family for another couple of hours and still make the broadcast. She’d just hoped to squeeze in more research before tomorrow. And Geary’s attitude had rubbed her wrong, the way he didn’t understand her priorities.
Of course, she didn’t initially embrace his either.
If she let this battle escalate, would she really win? Her parents’ relationship was a clear answer to that question.
Still, it wasn’t easy when what she wanted to do and what she should do were in conflict.
Bobby Lee stepped up and aligned his shot. He pulled back his arm and let his ball go, sending it speeding down the lane and knocking down the entire ten pins. A strike!
Her brother-in-law celebrated with an embarrassing amount of gusto. First he squatted and waddled along the foul line, screeching like some waterfowl in mating season. Then he stood and grabbed his mother-in-law’s arm, pulling her out of her seat. He twirled her around. “So how does it feel to be a winner, Queen Lane Changer?”
Veta laughed. “Good. Feels really good.”
Faith couldn’t help but smile. No doubt Geary’s family was a bit offbeat—even annoying at times. But they were also kind and generous and devoted to one another.
Hadn’t both Dilly and Bobby Lee had her back when it came to Stacy Brien?
Geary patted his brother-in-law on the back. “Nice one, Bobby Lee.”
In the end, the Lane Changers won, leaving the King Pins licking their wounds.
Wendell didn’t bother to hide the fact he hated losing. Frowning, he scooped a fortune cookie from the table and broke it open. He popped some of the hard cookie in his mouth, then read the fortune. “Now I’m warned this will not be my lucky day?” he complained, raising the piece of paper in the air. “Ah, what does some cookie maker know? Every day with this pretty lady is my lucky day.” He took Veta into his arms and dipped her, ending with a Rhett Butler/Scarlett O’Hara kiss that made even Faith blush. He puffed his chest. “That’s how that’s done, boys.”
Geary laughed and eased his feet out of the rental shoes. “You know what they say—those who can’t bowl, kiss.”
Dilly joined them with little Sam on her hip. “Oh really? Who says that?”
Their eyes met then, Faith’s and Geary’s. His gaze lingered.
She swallowed the lump building in her throat—and her pride. With a timid smile, she mouthed, “Congratulations.”
He rewarded her feeble conciliatory gesture with a smile of his own, the same one she’d seen on their honeymoon when she’d suggested they might go for a hike on the island, take in the scenery.
“The only scenery I care to enjoy is right here,” Geary had teased while pulling the coverlet up over their bare shoulders for the third morning in a row.
She’d easily agreed. As much as she loved the idea of exploring nature, the contours of his muscled forearms were far more intriguing, the hard ripples of his chest more entertaining.
Faith loved the way his lips nibbled at her shoulders, loved feeling the coarseness of his stubble against her neck as he found his way to her earlobe. She loved the weight of his body as he shifted, his breath ragged. The way his eyes found her own, communicating utter desire, as he abandoned himself to her—and she to him.
In those moments, she’d never felt more vulnerable.
Until now.
Geary reached out his hand and she let him pull her up to him. His fingertips went to her cheek. “Hey, babe. Let’s get you home now.”
She buried her head in his chest. “I love you,” she whispered.
Suddenly, a child screamed.
The commotion pulled their attention to the back of the lanes, where the sound had originated from behind the pins.
Dilly thrust Sam at Faith. “Oh my lands, take him!”
Frantic, her sister-in-law scrambled over a small pile of discarded rental shoes and tore down one of the lanes, with Bobby Lee and Wendell close behind.
“What in the world?” Geary left her holding his nephew and bolted that same direction.
Gabby’s head popped up from behind the pins, from the darkened space where mechanical pinsetters scooped and reset everything back in place. “Gunner’s stuck,” the wide-eyed little girl reported just as screams filled the air again.
Veta’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh Lord, help,” she muttered.
The entire bowling alley went into shutdown mode, including the obnoxious music piped in overhead. An Asian man’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Attention, bowlers—please stand by. We have a—well, a situation we hope to resolve very, very quickly.”
Emergency workers arrived, blowing through the bowling alley carrying black medic bags. Minutes later, they’d extricated Gunner and carried the frightened little boy out on a stretcher board.
Dilly jogged alongside. “Mommy’s here, baby. Everything’s going to be all right.”
The entire Marin family followed, shaken but thankful the unfortunate event had resulted in minimal injury—a broken arm. Apparently, his arm had gotten caught in the automated equipment.
A harried-looking owner also walked them outside. He wrung his hands. “If there’s anything we can do . . .”
Wendell squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Heng. This was not the fault of your establishment. Those kids should never have been playing back there. I’m sorry for the disruption to your business.”
Mr. Heng bobbed his head. “Ah, thank you. You will not sue then?”
Wendell extended his hand. “Absolutely not. Of course not.”
Worry slipped from the owner’s face. He and Wendell shook hands, then everyone headed to their individual cars.
Faith buckled her seat belt. “Is Gunner going to be okay?”
Geary nodded. “Yeah, but he’ll need a cast. It shook Dilly up pretty good, though. Bobby Lee too.”
She leaned her head against the seat back. “Well, all’s well that ends well, I guess. Maybe in the future, they’ll watch those kids a bit closer.”
Her husband’s face closed in. “It was an accident, Faith.”
“Well, I know. I only meant—” She stopped mid-sentence and quickly doused her words so as not to let any smoldering tension flare. “I’m just glad he’s going to be fine,” she offered, surprised their interaction had so easily turned fractious again. This was something new, this relational obstacle course.
“Me too,” he confessed. One of his hands went to his cheek and he started rubbing. “I’ve got to tell you, seeing my nephew caught in that machine scared me. His little arm was pretty mangled.”
She looked across at her husband, sensed a fracture in his normally calm exterior. Perhaps that was why he was so testy.
Those kids were unruly terrors, in her opinion. But she knew Geary adored Dilly and Bobby Lee’s children. They were cute, especially little Sam, but goodness knows they needed some discipline.
Geary’s hand went for the radio knob. “Do you mind?”
“No, no—go ahead.”
She reached across the seat and lightly brushed his arm, hoping the gesture might abate his tension. He responded by taking her hand and tucking it inside his.
They rode like that for several blocks, content to sit in silence until they hit a red light. When the signal changed, Geary drove forward instead of turning on the road leading back to the church, where her car was still parked.
She looked over. “Geary, where are you going?”
“To the hospital,” he said, anxiously drumming the steering wheel with his thumb. “There’s a chance—however small—Gunner might need surgery. An orthopedist can only rule the possibility out after an MRI, to see the extent of the tissue damage.”
She pulled her hand from his grip. “But I’ve got to go home, get dressed, and head for the station, or I’ll be late for the broadcast.”
His fingers tightened on the wheel. “Can’t you call in? I mean, this is pretty important.”
“Geary, I’m the weekend anchor. I can’t just call in. Especially two and a half hours before broadcast.”
“All right.” Without signaling, he veered off into a CVS Pharmacy parking lot and whipped around and headed back in the opposite direction.
“Oh my goodness, are you mad at me? This is my job.” Her anger flared, still braided with her desire for him to understand.
His foot pressed the accelerator and they sped up. “I think we already had this conversation today.”
“This—is—my—job,” she repeated. “Why are you being such a jerk?”
He turned to her. “Because this is family, and family always comes first. Is this how it’s going to be when we have kids? Are you going to rush off to work, no matter what their needs?”
She fisted her hands, pressing her nails into her skin so hard it hurt. “Are you going to dock your bass boat and get a real job? One with a guaranteed income and benefits, 401(k)s and bonuses, so I can stay home with our kids when they get runny noses?”
Her words hung in the air for several seconds, and she found herself wishing she could gather and stuff the truth of them back in hiding. But it was too late.
Her thoughtlessness exploded like shrapnel.
She reached for his arm. “Geary, I—”
Instinctively, he pulled away from her. She knew then that more than just her temper had blown up.
The tears came, and the guilt. She wanted desperately to move the needle back to before those dreadful words left her lips. But deep down, she realized there would be no taking back what she’d said.
Especially when she saw the hurt on her husband’s face.