Cherished (25 page)

Kelli kept going. “—a slave to righteousness, a citizen of heaven, set apart, a living stone, and His workmanship.”

Heather shook her head. “This is mind-boggling. Just one of those ‘new whos' is enough to get excited about. To know that I'm
all
those things?”

“And more. Those are just the verses we had time to cover.” Cyd closed her Bible. “I want you to keep your list close and read over it now and then to get it down deep. The enemy will try to make you feel guilty about your past, and he'll use your own thoughts or he'll use other people. But if you know who you are, he won't succeed. Got it?”

“Got it!” they said.

“Ready to pray?”

“Cyd, first . . .” Heather could feel the nerves inside. “I don't know how to say this, but . . . last week at the mall, I noticed the tension between you and Dana, because of me. I just wanted to say I've gotten a lot out of just these two times we've met. I think I'll be fine studying on my own from here.”

Cyd's eyes were soft, sympathetic. “Heather, you don't even have a church home. I love your heart, but I'm looking forward to spending more time with you and covering more ground. Discipleship isn't an overnight process.”

“I feel so bad, though. What do you do when you've played a part in devastating someone like that? I know I can't go to her and apologize.”

“This is one of those hard realities,” Cyd said. “You know you're forgiven. You know you're a new creation. But sometimes we still have to deal with the consequences of the past. Honestly? Dana may never like you. And no, I would not advise going to her.” Cyd made a face that said it would not be a wise move. “But you can always pray for her. In fact”—she nodded as she thought about it— “that would be awesome.”

The suggestion moved Heather. “I like that. I'd like to start right now.” Heather thought a moment. “And I have something else. My mother's having a fiftieth birthday party tonight, and I don't really want to go. When she and her friends start drinking . . . it's a scene I can do without.”

Cyd and Kelli were listening. Heather never talked much about her family.

“But the main thing is I want to get her a Bible,” Heather said. “I know she'll think it's weird, but I've been praying for her to know Jesus too, and this could be a first step. I guess. I don't know, I'm really nervous about it. Can we pray?”

T
HE FRONT DOOR WAS AJAR, PEOPLE COMING AND GOING
as Heather walked up to her mother's house. Her mother had lived in this north St. Louis neighborhood for more than ten years. If nothing else, she'd built a great camaraderie with the neighbors.

“Heather, haven't seen you in a while!”

She turned. “Hi, Mrs. Harris. Good to see you. You're looking quite festive.”

“When Diane said she was throwing a seventies party, I got excited. That was my time, you know.” The raspy-voiced woman was in her sixties, decked out in polyester bell-bottom pants and a long-sleeve paisley shirt. She flicked her cigarette, and orange-colored ashes fell to the ground. “I still had the clothes, and my daughter found me this wig at some secondhand shop.” She fluffed her Afro. “Ain't it nice?”

Heather chuckled. “Just don't stand next to me. You'll show me up, for sure.” The most she'd done to get in costume was wear her widest-legged jeans and a T-shirt with a peace symbol on it.

Heather and Mrs. Harris walked inside the ranch-style home together. The front room had been transformed with tie-dyed sheets over the furniture, but the main action was obviously in the basement. “YMCA” blasted through the floorboards, along with loud voices.

“Hey, I love that song!” Mrs. Harris went straight for the stairs.

Heather headed to the kitchen to drop off her gift bag. Her mother probably wouldn't open gifts until tomorrow. Heather hoped she'd discover this one in just the right mood, quiet and reflective, though she wasn't sure it would make a difference.

She stepped inside the kitchen—and turned right back around. A couple she didn't recognize was leaning against the counter, kissing. They didn't even pause when they heard Heather's footsteps.

She headed to the basement instead, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the disco-ball lighting as she joined the partiers. Donna Summer was playing now, the crowd lively, covering most of the floor space. Heather saw many of her mother's friends as well as neighbors, all of them wearing some form of throwback attire—and almost all of them with a beer bottle or other drink in hand. Finally she spotted her mother, disco dancing in a sparkly minidress and go-go boots, her blond hair styled like Farrah Fawcett's.

Her mother saw her too. “Heather,” she called. “You made it. Come here, honey!”

“Happy birthday, Mom,” Heather said, giving her a hug.

Her mother stopped dancing and posed. “Not bad for fifty, eh?”

“Not bad at all,” her dancing partner said.

Diane smiled and poked him in the chest. “You, sir, are a shameless flatterer. And I love it.” She looked at her daughter again. “Heather, honey, let me introduce you. This is Cliff. He's a friend of . . .” She looked confused. “Who
did
you come with?”

“Mike.”

“Oops.” Diane laughed, covering her mouth. “He's my
boyfriend
.” She glanced around. “I'd better find him before he gets mad at me.”

Heather leaned close to her mother. “Mom, what's that smell? Are you letting people smoke that stuff down here?”

“Since when is that a big deal? Don't people use it as medicine these days? Certainly makes
me
feel better.”

Heather sighed, ready to leave already.

Diane grabbed a younger guy walking past. “Tim, this is my daughter, the one I was telling you about. Didn't I tell you she's a hottie?”

Heather gave her mother a look. “Mom, please.” She turned back to the guy and extended her hand. “Hi, I'm Heather. Nice to meet you.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Pleasure's mine. Wanna dance?”

“Um, not right now. But thanks.”

Diane tugged on her hand. “What is
with
you? That guy's gorgeous.”

Diane had always acted more like a girlfriend than a mother, setting Heather up with guys, handing her mixed drinks as a teen. But it never seemed sad to her until this moment.

“I'm really not feeling my best,” Heather said. “Maybe I can come visit with you tomorrow.”

“Aww, but I'd hate for you to miss the party—hey, is that a gift for me?”

Heather remembered the bag in her hand. “Oh, I meant to leave it in the kitch—” Why try to explain? “I'll just take it to your room.”

“You'll do no such thing. I wanna see my gift. Is it the perfume I like?” Diane took the bag from Heather and stuck her hand beneath the tissue. “What's this?” She lifted it out. “A
Bible
?”

Heather cringed.

Diane burst into laughter. “Hey,” she called to those around her, “my daughter gave me a Bible for my birthday.” She held it up in the air. “Think she's trying to tell me something?”

People raised their beer bottles and cheered.

“When's the Bible study, Diane?” one of them asked.

Diane thought that was even funnier. “Yeah, I'll let you know,” she yelled. She turned to Heather. “So what's the deal? You turn religious on me? You must be conspiring with that brother of yours.”

Heather frowned. “Ian? What does he have to do with it?”

“Oh, he tried sending me a Bible a few years ago. Now he just puts Bible verses in birthday cards. Got one today. Haven't even opened it.”

“You never told me that,” Heather said.

Diane shrugged. “You never asked.” She put the Bible back in the bag and handed it to Heather. “No offense, honey, but I would've used the perfume.”

Cliff took her hand and got her dancing again.

Heather eased back upstairs, avoiding the eyes of those in her path, wondering about her half brother. She didn't know him well at all. Diane had given birth to him at nineteen but had no interest in raising him. His paternal grandparents took him first, and when Ian's father married, the father's wife adopted him. Heather remembered a couple of visits here and there when she was younger and school pictures in the mail, but it had been years since she'd seen or heard about him. He was a believer?

She walked down the hall, took the Bible out of the bag, and tucked it inside her mother's nightstand. Then she stopped back in the kitchen, which was deserted now. Out of curiosity, she checked her mother's mail pile. There in the stack was a card with a return address sticker that said
Ian and Becky Engel
. So he was married. She wondered if they had any kids—if she had any nieces or nephews.

Heather wrote down their Illinois address. After all these years, she suddenly had a real desire to know her brother.

twenty-two

C
YD HAD A GROGGY UNDERSTANDING THAT A PHONE
was ringing, but she didn't know how to answer it. When she realized that it wasn't a dream, she reached for her cell from the nightstand and answered, but no one was there.

Cedric rolled over. “Babe, get the phone.”

“I'm trying.”

Forced to pry her eyes open, she realized it was the landline. Goodness. What would she do when her baby needed her in the middle of the night? Was there a mommy thing that kicked in to help a person get her bearings?

“Hello?”

“Sorry to wake you, Cyd.”

She sat up. “Dana?” She saw the time now—6:00 a.m. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Well. Can you meet me before church to talk, maybe at Starbucks?”

“Uh, sure.” Cyd worked to gather her faculties. Until two seconds ago, she wasn't sure what day it was. “What time?”

“Seven thirty?”

Cyd was about to ask why she needed to call so early, but given the climate between them of late, she thought better of it. “That's fine.”

They agreed on a Starbucks, and Cyd sat in bed pondering what this could be about, that it couldn't wait till after church. She remembered Heather's heartfelt prayer yesterday. Was God answering already? It would certainly encourage Heather. She'd called last night to say the gift hadn't gone over well, that her mother had laughed. Maybe God was giving
her
a gift by touching Dana's heart. Or maybe Cyd was getting ahead of herself. Dana might have an altogether different issue in mind.

Cyd felt a pull to get up, make coffee, and spend the time before their meeting with God. Whatever it was, depending on how it went, things could end up worse than ever between them.

C
YD PULLED THE
S
TARBUCKS DOOR OPEN AND SAW
D
ANA
behind one person in line. She hated the jumpy feeling she now got when she saw her friend, not knowing what to say, how she would be received. Sucking in a big breath, she stepped inside, surprised to see that the place was fairly empty.

She walked up beside her friend. “Good morning.”

Dana turned and gave her a slight smile. “Good morning. Thanks for coming.”

“No problem.”

Their gazes landed on the menu board, as if they needed to survey what was available. Dana moved forward and ordered her usual, a grande nonfat vanilla latte. “I'm taking care of hers too.”

“Thanks,” Cyd said. She took a step up. “Is it possible to get a decaf mocha latte?” She still wasn't used to thinking of herself as pregnant.

Dana looked surprised. “Decaf? Early in the morning? Never seen you do that.”

“I know. I'm . . . changing things up.”

The barista handed them their drinks, and they settled at a small tabletop by the window, each taking a first sip, staring at their cups.

“Okay, so, I pretty much haven't slept well since Maggiano's.”

Cyd looked at Dana, waiting for more.

“But last night I really couldn't sleep.” Dana was studying her cup. “And it's not just that I couldn't sleep. I felt all weepy inside, like I was grieving.” She looked directly at Cyd now. “Like I'd lost my best friend.” She sighed. “And for the first time, I talked to God about it, about this . . . situation. And then I got weepy for real.”

“Why?”

“He showed me
me
—and I hadn't even asked Him too!”

Cyd smiled faintly. The Daughters liked to say one of the hardest prayers was, “Lord, show me
me
,” because He usually responded with something they wouldn't like.

“Yeah, He'll do that, won't He?”

“I was wrong, Cyd.” Dana's brown eyes showed her sorrow. “I let my bitterness toward Heather get in the way of so many things. As if God can't get ahold of her heart? I should be glad she's been changed, but it was like . . . it was like I wanted to keep hating her, and the only way to do that was to keep believing the worst about her. When you befriended her, I didn't know what to do with that.”