The Color of Hope (39 page)
“But your class is at eight o’clock. You’ve got the whole day after that.”
Cyd donned a tight-lipped smile to beat back her annoyance. “Stephanie, you know that teaching is only part of what I do. I have a paper due for a conference coming up, and I’m already behind.”
She unhooked Reese’s leash and watched her run around in circles, delighted with her freedom. But when Cyd headed for the stairs, Reese fell quickly in step. No way would she be left behind.
“How can you even focus on work today?” Stephanie sounded perplexed. “Aren’t you just too excited about the big event? Girl, you know this is your wedding too.”
Cyd paused on a stair. “How is this my wedding too?”
“Since it looks like you won’t be getting married yourself”—Stephanie had a shrug in her voice—“you’ve at least gotten a chance to plan one through me. You know, living vicariously. Hasn’t it been fun?”
Cyd held the phone aloft and stared at it. Did Stephanie really think these last few months had been
fun
? She had involved Cyd in every decision from her dress to her colors to the style, thickness, and font of the invitations to the type of headpiece Mackenzie should wear—all of which
could
have been fun if Stephanie had really wanted her sister’s opinions.
What Stephanie wanted was for Cyd to accompany her about
town to every wedding-related appointment, listen with interest as she debated with herself about gowns, floral arrangements, and what to include on the wedding registry, and affirm her ultimate picks. She also wanted Cyd to handle whatever she deemed drudgery. And Cyd didn’t mind; as the maid of honor, she thought it her duty to address invitations, order favors, and the like. What bugged her was Stephanie’s ingratitude, which wasn’t new but had taken on a high-gloss sheen. It was Stephanie’s world, and everyone else revolved around it, especially Cyd, since in Stephanie’s opinion she didn’t have a life anyway.
Now she was telling Cyd—matter-of-factly—that it looked like her sister wouldn’t ever be getting married. Cyd wished she could dismiss it as she did Stephanie’s other flippant remarks. But how could she, when her own inner voice was shouting the same?
Tears crowded Cyd’s eyes, and she was startled, and grateful, when the phone beeped to announce another call. She didn’t bother to look at the caller’s identity.
“Steph, that’s my other line. I’ve gotta go.”
“Who would be calling you this early? Besides me, that is.” Stephanie chuckled at herself. “Probably Momma. Tell her I’ll call her in a few minutes. By the way, what did you decide to wear to the rehearsal tonight?”
“Steph, really, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.”
Cyd clicked Off, threw the phone on the bed, and headed to the bathroom. She couldn’t bear more wedding talk at the moment, and if it was her mother, that’s all she would hear.
She peeled off her clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped under the warm spray of water. Now that she was smack up against it—the wedding, the birthday—everything seemed to rush at her. She wouldn’t mind being forty, unmarried, and childless if she’d expected it. But from a young age she’d prayed repeatedly for a
husband—and not just a “Christian” but someone on fire for the Lord. And she’d believed deep in her heart that God would answer.
Cyd looked upward, past the dingy housing of the lightbulb, as tears mingled with water, questions with accusation.
I trusted in Your promises, Lord. You said if I delighted myself in You, You
would give me the desires of my heart
.
The tears flowed harder.
You said if I abide in You and Your words abide in me, I could ask whatever
I wish and it would be done. Haven’t I
delighted
myself in You? Haven’t
I
abided
in You?
K
im Cash Tate is the author of
Hope Springs
,
Cherished
,
Faithful
,
Heavenly Places
, and the memoir
More Christian Than African American.
A former practicing attorney, she is also the founder of Colored in Christ Ministries. She and her husband have two children.
