Hope Springs (43 page)

But Cyd had vowed moons ago to stop lecturing her sister and pray instead. She took a deep breath and expelled it loudly enough for Stephanie to know she was moving on, but only with effort.

“So, you forgot to tell me something?” She headed to the kitchen, where Reese was barking with attitude, indignant that Cyd was taking too long to get there.

“Girl, listen to this,” Stephanie said. “LaShaun called Momma yesterday, upset 'cause we didn't include a guest on her invitation, talking about she wants to bring Jo-Jo. That's why I
didn't
put ‘and guest' on her invitation. I'm not paying for that loser to come up in there, eat our food, drink, and act a fool. And why is she calling now anyway? Hello? The deadline for RSVPs was last month. Can you believe her?”

“Stephanie, was there a need to call so early to tell me this?” Cyd clicked on the kitchen light.

“Don't you think it's a trip?”

“Okay, yeah.”

“I know! And you know Momma. She said, ‘That's your cousin. Just keep the peace and let her bring him.' I'm tempted to call LaShaun right now and tell her both of them can jump in a lake.”

Cyd headed to the crate under the desk portion of the kitchen counter. Tired though she was, Reese's drama tickled her inside. She was whimpering and pawing at the gated opening, and when Cyd unlocked it, the energetic twelve-week-old shot out. A mix of cocker spaniel and who knew what else, with dark chocolate wavy hair and tan patches on the neck, underbelly, and paws, she'd reminded Cyd of a peanut butter cup the moment she nabbed her heart at the shelter.

Reese jumped on Cyd, then rolled over for a tummy rub. Three seconds later she dashed toward the back door. At her age she could barely make it through the night without an accident. If Cyd delayed now, she'd be cleaning up a mess. She attached the leash and led her out.

“Well, what do you think?” Stephanie asked.

“About telling LaShaun to jump in the lake?” Cyd turned on the lights in the backyard and stepped outside with Reese, tightening her robe.

Stephanie sucked her teeth. “I mean about the whole thing.”

“Well, Momma and Daddy are paying,” Cyd said, since it seemed her sister had forgotten, “so if Momma doesn't mind Jo-Jo coming, why worry about it? You'll be so busy you probably won't see much of them anyway. No point getting your cousin
and
Aunt Gladys mad over something like this.”

“Whatever,” Stephanie said. “I should've known you'd say the same thing as Momma. I still might call LaShaun, just to let her know she should've called me directly, not tried to go through Momma.”

“All right, go ahead and ponder that. I've got to get ready for class and—”

“I wasn't finished,” Stephanie whined. “Did you talk to Dana?”

“I talked to her last night. Why?”

“So she told you about the shoes?”

“Mm-hmm.” Cyd moved to different spots in the yard, tugging on the leash to get Reese to stop digging and do her business. A light popped on in the house next door and she saw Ted, a professor in the chemistry department, moving around in his kitchen. Many of her colleagues from Wash U lived in her Clayton neighborhood—six on her block alone.

“I wasn't trying to be difficult,” Stephanie said, “but something told me to stop by her house yesterday to see for myself what kind of shoes she bought. You said they were cute, but those things were dreadful.”

“Stephanie, they're flower-girl shoes. All flower-girl shoes are cute. Mackenzie tried them on with the dress when I was over there last week, and she looked adorable.”

“The
dress
is adorable—because I picked it out—but those tired Mary Janes with the plain strap across the top have got to go. Is that what they wear at white weddings or something?”

“I don't know. Google it—‘official flower-girl shoe at white weddings.'”

“Ha, ha, very funny. I'm just sayin' . . .”

Cyd led Reese back into the house, half listening as Stephanie droned on about some snazzier shoes with rhinestones Dana could've gotten and why she shouldn't have trusted Dana to make the choice in the first place.

She'd get over it. Stephanie did a lot of complaining about a lot of people, but there was no doubt—she loved Dana. Dana had been like family ever since she and Cyd met on the volleyball team in junior high, when Stephanie was just a baby. Stephanie had always looked up to her like a second big sister, and when Dana got married and had Mackenzie and Mark, Stephanie actually volunteered to babysit regularly. Those kids adored “Aunt Stephanie,” and when it came time to plan her wedding, Stephanie didn't hesitate to include them . . . even though a couple of great-aunts questioned her appointing white kids as flower girl and ring bearer.

“. . . so, long story short, I asked Dana to take 'em back and find some shoes with some pizzazz.'”

“She told me she's not hunting for shoes today. She doesn't have time.” Cyd stopped in the office, awakened her computer screen with a shake of the mouse, and started skimming an e-mail from a student.

“She told me that too,” Stephanie said. “So I'm hoping you can do it.”

“Do what?”

“Find some cute shoes.”

“I have to work.” And even if she didn't, she wouldn't get roped into this one. She'd gone above and beyond for Stephanie already. This week alone, she'd taken care of several items Stephanie was supposed to handle. If her sister wanted to sweat the flower girl's shoes the day before the wedding, she'd have to do it alone.

“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?

The story continues in
Faithful

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

KIM CASH TATE is the author of
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.