Chapter Five

 

“You should have seen him, Trix.” Phoebe threw the dishrag on Trixie’s counter in a fit of irritation. “He practically fawned all over her.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Mac I know.” Trixie unbuckled her toddler daughter Alice from the booster seat at the table and let her run free.

“Right? It’s like that snobby Deena has a grip on him.” She huffed as she put a dry plate in the cabinet. “Oh wait, she did have a hold on him. Those perfect, manicured fingers wrapped around his arm like she owned him.”

Trixie burst into laughter. The hand over her mouth did nothing to disguise or muffle the sound. “I’m sorry, but you have it bad.”

“No, I don’t.” Phoebe puffed out her cheeks and put another dish away. Slowly, she exhaled. “Fine, I do, but I need to move on. Mac and I are meant to be friends, that’s all.”

“Maybe you are, or maybe this isn’t the right time.” Understanding filled Trixie’s voice. “Can I tell you something without you getting mad?”

Phoebe leaned on the counter behind her. “Do I have a choice?”

“Yes.” Trixie’s soft tone indicated she’d honor her sister’s wishes. “You also have a choice whether you listen to what I say or ignore it.”

Trixie was the youngest Graff sister, but life experience had given her wisdom beyond her years. For that reason, along with the confidence her sister would only speak from a place of love, Phoebe agreed. “I can’t promise I won’t get mad though.”

“Fair enough.” Trixie handed her a cup of peppermint tea then carried her own into the living room.

“The new carpet looks great,” she commented. “A huge improvement over the old.”

“Tell me about it.” Trixie chuckled. “I love Elijah and would live with him anywhere, but that orange shag carpet had to go.”

“Are you still planning on getting new furniture?” Personally, Phoebe loved the sofa. It wasn’t pretty, but goodness was it comfortable.

“Not yet.” Gesturing toward the walls, Trixie lowered herself onto the other end of the sofa. “Now that we brightened up the walls and added new carpet, the sofas aren’t so bad. They're functional, and since we’re trying to save money, we decided new ones can wait.”

“Smart idea.” She breathed in the floral scent of jasmine. “It’s nice having sister time. Too bad Jessa had to work today.”

“We need to make a point to add it to our schedules.” Trixie sipped her tea. “I’m so busy now, but every day I remind myself how blessed I am. My life has changed completely in the last two years, but I wouldn’t trade any of it.”

“I’m proud of you. You’re an amazing sister, daughter, wife, and mom.” Phoebe watched Alice run into the room and straight toward her.

Lively brown eyes implored her. “Aun Feeb. I sit in lap?”

“Sure, honeybun.” She set her cup on the end table and lifted Alice onto her lap.

“Take the snuggles while you can.” Trixie frowned. “She rarely sits still anymore, always running from one toy to the next. My only guaranteed cuddles are at bedtime.”

“You know how to fix that?”

Trixie lifted a warning brow. “Don’t even think it. Elijah and I have only been married three months, and Alice isn’t two yet. Let’s not rush another child.”

She sighed then winked. “I suppose I’ll have to bug Jessa then.”

“If my suspicions are right, you won’t have to for long.” Leaning forward, Trixie looked at her with a grin.

“You noticed it last Sunday, too?” She couldn’t contain her smile.

“Jessa’s never gotten up and left in the middle of a church service. Not even as a child. She’s the one Mom and Dad never had to fuss.”

“And you saw the way she cradled her stomach when she came back?”

The synchronized squeal startled Alice. She gave her mom and aunt a confused look before sliding off the sofa and running to her room.

Settling back, Trixie reached for the cup and sipped the tea. “When do you think she’ll tell us?”

“Soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if the announcement comes at lunch tomorrow.”

“That’s right. I need to remind Elijah we’re having a family dinner so he doesn’t accept any invitations.”

Phoebe laughed. “The life of a pastor’s wife, huh?”

A wry grin spread Trixie’s lips into thin lines. “It’s an adjustment and not a role I’d ever imagined filling. There’s a learning curve, but Elijah and the church are incredibly supportive.”

“That’s great.” For a brief moment, sadness clouded Phoebe. She couldn’t be happier for her sisters, but their blessings in love inadvertently called attention to her lack of it. With no prospects in sight, would she ever find her happy ending?

As though Trixie could read her mind, she shook a finger. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re thinking about Mac again.”

“Not directly.” It wasn’t a lie—she’d been thinking in generic terms without names.

“Are you ready to hear my thoughts?”

She shook her head. “No, but tell me anyway.”

“I have several. First, you need to tell Mac how you feel. It’s not fair to either of you to harbor these feelings and then get mad when another girl shows interest.”

“I didn’t get mad.” She bristled, and her defenses rose.

“Gimme a break, sis. You almost ripped my dishrag in half because Deena flirted with him.” Trixie reached over and laid her small hand on Phoebe’s arm. “No matter how ridiculous she might have acted with Mac, you don’t have a claim on him. He’s free to date and flirt with anyone his heart desires.”

The truth pierced her heart. She already knew it was true, but having Trixie tell her made it sink in. “I know that in my head, but my heart won’t listen.”

“I’m not an expert, but I know this—your friendship is under attack and it will suffer if you allow jealousy to interfere.”

“But Deena is so wrong for him.” In her head, she counted all the reasons why. Number One—she didn’t profess to be a Christian. Two—their lives and values clashed. Three—Mac should love her, not Deena.

Why couldn’t life be fair?

“I agree, but that’s not our decision to make.” Giving Phoebe’s arm a gentle squeeze, Trixie continued. “What you’re seeing is infatuation. Mac will see through the façade in time. He’s a good man.”

“Then why can’t he see it now?”

Trixie gave her another warning glance. “Love is blind. Beyond that, you’re not even positive of what you saw.”

She snorted. “I’m quite sure of what I witnessed. He was completely and totally enamored with her, making a fool of himself.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

Trixie’s news surprised her. “Who’ve you been talking too?”

“Word travels fast in a small town. Even faster in a small church.” Trixie pulled out her phone and giggled lightly. “Plus, Marley sent me a video.”

Hope that her sister would finally understand blossomed. “Have you watched it yet?”

“Yes, and I don’t see any sign of improper decorum from Mac. Deena… maybe, but definitely not your Mac.”

“He’s not my Mac.” Her rebuttal came out haughtier than she’d meant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“You know what I did notice in that video?”

“What?”

Trixie played the video and paused at several intervals. “He keeps looking toward the door. I’ve been wrong before, but instinct tells me he was watching for you. After all, didn’t you tell him you’d come?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing. It’s way past time for you and Mac to have an honest conversation with each other, but you’re both too chicken.” Trixie adjusted her position and tucked a leg under her lap. “I know it sounds scary, but wouldn’t the reward outweigh that risk?”

Phoebe shook her head. “You’re reading entirely too much into one short video clip.”

“I can’t make you see what you don’t want to, but don’t dismiss the idea.” Trixie inhaled and let it out slowly. “If anybody knows about happy endings that don’t seem possible, it’s me, but look at Elijah and me now. I want that same joy for you.”

The earnestness in Trixie’s tone made Phoebe feel guilty for being short with her. “Thank you.”

Mischief danced in Trixie’s eyes. “For being brutally honest?”

“For being you.” Phoebe relaxed into the decades-old sofa and let its worn fabric envelop her in physical comfort while her soul basked in gratefulness for the gift of her sisters.

***

Phoebe woke up on Sunday morning with a fresh perspective. She’d thought long into the night about what Trixie had said. No matter how many times she replayed that video in her head, she couldn’t believe that Mac had been on the lookout for her.

She did, however, acknowledge that she had no cause to be angry at Mac or Deena. Mac was a free man and could flirt with whomever he chose. Just because it wasn’t her didn’t mean she could hold it against him.

And Deena, well, she’d be out of all their lives soon enough. Her fixation on Mac couldn’t be anything serious and would disappear like the mist as soon as filming ended. Phoebe prayed Mac had sense enough to know that and would keep his heart guarded, but she couldn’t make it her problem. All she could do was be a friend to him.

Despite her new outlook, she took extra time with her appearance. Her favorite hunter green knit swing dress—worn often for its comfort and ability to dress up or down—wouldn’t cut it today. Compared to Deena’s designer wardrobe, the fifteen-dollar dress made her feel frumpy and outdated.

You can’t compare yourself to her, and you especially can’t change yourself because of her. She knew that still, small voice spoke the truth, but she couldn’t bring herself to put on the comfortable dress. Instead, she dressed in a pair of black pants and the one designer shirt she owned, which she’d bought off the rack for a ninety percent discount.

She paired the satiny gold shirt with her highest heeled pair of boots. Her feet would hate her later, but the reflection in the mirror thanked her. She brushed her hair until the soft brown tresses shined to glossy perfection, then accessorized with a pair of modest gold hoops in her ears and bangles around her wrist.

Watch Deena not even come to church. When Darla had called her in an excited frenzy Friday night to tell her Deena might attend on Sunday, Phoebe had cringed. Church shouldn’t be a spectacle, and that’s exactly what it would become if Deena showed up. The singles’ event was bad enough—and she’d only witnessed a minute of it, not even long enough for anyone to realize she’d been there.

She’d since revamped her views. After her brutally honest introspection session, she acknowledged her unchristian attitude. The only reason she didn’t want Deena coming to her church was due to the green monster. And while she wasn’t crazy about the possibility of church turning into a gawking parade, she accepted that God’s picture was bigger than hers.

With that in mind, Phoebe left for church. The increasing wind speed tempted her car over the yellow line a few times, and she kept both hands on the wheel except for the second she turned the radio to an AM station. She listened to the forecast, surprised to hear a snowstorm could come as early as Wednesday. What a way to usher in a new month.

Every time she shifted her foot to the brake pedal and then back to the accelerator, her boots pinched her toes. Vanity had a price, and her pained feet were the cost for wearing the four-inch stiletto boots with a width too narrow for her wide feet. Despite being the shortest sibling at five feet, five inches, she’d inherited her father’s blocky feet, a trait she’d often begrudged but had come to accept.

When she pulled into the church parking lot, she scouted the area for any sign of Deena. No limo, no crowds, no paparazzi. By now, the media and tabloids had to have realized Deena arrived several days earlier than her management had leaked. Not that Phoebe would complain. In her opinion, the longer Jasper Lake maintained normalcy, the better.

Once again, she had to re-navigate her thoughts. Before she’d met Deena, she’d been excited about the possibilities this movie brought to Jasper Lake. Like Jessa, her older sister who headed the chamber of commerce, she was thrilled about the influx of tourism the movie would bring. Funny how one bad egg of a personality could taint that excitement.

She spied her mom’s car and an empty spot beside it. Pulling in between the white lines, she smiled. Sundays made her happy, especially the ones when her entire family gathered in the afternoon for a big meal and family time. Between Hunter’s prison sentence for drunk driving and Trixie’s disappearance, they’d had several rough years recently which made the time together that much sweeter.

After she turned off the car’s engine, she wrapped her scarf around her neck to ward off the gusts of wind. She rebuttoned her black leather moto jacket. When she stepped into the freezing air, she regretted choosing fashion over practicality. Her down puffer jacket would have offered better protection. She hurried inside as fast as her boots allowed.

Bev Talbot, the Sunday school director, stood at the welcome desk flipping through an old-fashioned Rolodex.

“Hi, Mrs. Bev.”

The older woman with snow-white hair and a graceful smile looked up. “Good morning, Phoebe. You’re looking lovely this morning.”

“Thank you.” She self-consciously ran a hand along her coat. Had she tried too hard? Nothing she could do about it now.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to do me a favor, would you?” Bev’s mauve lipstick made her smile appear larger.

“What class do you need me to teach?”

Bev laughed. “Am I that predictable?”

“When asking for help on a Sunday morning, yes, you are.” Phoebe returned her smile. “Tell me where you need me, and I’ll be there.”

“The first graders.” Bev sucked in a breath, undoubtedly expecting Phoebe to change her mind.

Ahh, the class with a reputation. “I don’t know why others dread them. They’re rambunctious but fun.”

“They respond well to you.” Bev handed her a booklet. “They are on lesson six this week, the story of Joseph reunited with his brothers.”

“One of my favorites.” She took the book and flipped open to the lesson. “Do I need to make the worksheet copies or are they already in the classroom?”

“I made them right after Melinda called and told me she wouldn’t make it in today.”

“Please tell me her kids don’t have pink eye again. The poor kids have had it forever.”

Bev shook her head. “Melinda’s brother surprised them this morning with an early arrival home from deployment. They’re on their way to the airport to pick him up.”

She had to exercise self-control in order not to squeal. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all month! Our class has prayed for Ramsey since he first got his orders.”

“I taught Ramsey in Sunday school when he was only a toddler, then had him in my homeroom when he was in eighth grade.” Bev blinked away a tear. “He’s like a child to me.”

“Our class hasn’t been the same without him making us laugh.” The memories made her smile. “And he always had insight into the passage we studied. He could take a confusing verse and explain it so that everyone understood what it meant.”

Bev winked. “He’s come a long way from that boy who answered Jesus for any question I asked.”

Phoebe erupted into laughter. “To be fair, isn’t Jesus always the answer?”

“I can’t argue with that.”

She stole a glimpse at the clock on the wall. “I better run before the parents think no one is showing up.”

“Thank you for filling in on short notice. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” Phoebe left the welcome desk and went downstairs to the classrooms.

For the next hour, she taught—attempted to teach—a group of twenty first-grade students. She wiped noses, took prayer requests about sick fish and scraped knees, and told them Joseph’s amazing story of suffering and forgiveness.

Once all the children’s parents had picked them up, Phoebe put away the crayons and straightened up the room. She went upstairs and dropped the curriculum guide to Mrs. Beverly at the welcome desk.

She walked into the sanctuary and scanned the pews for her family. It took her a minute to realize something was off. Her heart dropped to her chest when she realized excited murmurs circled the sanctuary and all eyes stared at the pews on the left.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she promised herself she wouldn’t look. She already knew by the church’s reaction that Deena had shown up. Was it possible for her to walk to her family with her eyes closed? Reluctantly she opened them, and against her better judgment, looked Deena’s way.

Immediately she wished she hadn’t. All her good intentions and the progress she’d made were swept away when she saw Deena and Mac sitting together. Close. Shoulders touching. Laughing.

Unlike Friday night, she couldn’t turn around and leave.

Trixie came up beside her and slipped an arm through hers. Sympathy dotted her face. “Would you mind sitting up front and helping me with the youth today?”

“Bless you,” she whispered in her sister’s ear. The youth didn’t need extra supervision, but it placed her in the front pews where she couldn’t easily look at Mac and Deena.