Page 95 of Wish You Faith

“Maybe your children will also have the same eyes.”

Children? What children?

Rosie didn’t want to ask if there was something she could do for the woman or if she needed help. Rosie did not want to do anything for strangers today. She was decompressing after a busy Christmas season. She wanted nothing better than to stare out at the ocean and talk to no one—except perhaps to text Evan, who was at work and shouldn’t be disturbed.

“I want to see what kind of a woman would make my son give up his freedom for the next ten years and return to a job he loathes,” the woman finally said.

Oh.

Was she Evan’s mother? Rosie didn’t want to ask.

Wait. What ten years?

“You don’t talk to strangers.” The woman laughed. “I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Mei Cavanaugh, Evan’s mom.”

She did not extend her hand across the table, and neither did Rosie. Most of the time, she’d rather do fist bumps at work, but she’d give people the occasional hugs if they needed it.

“You don’t shake hands either.” She smiled. “Germs, right?”

Rosie nodded. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rosie Hamilton.”

“I know. Already we have two things in common, but that’s not enough.” Mei made a face.

Now Rosie understood why Evan’s mom was intimidating, even to her own sons. How could she handle such a person? Rosie knew she had to pray for help. Well, how would she pray for help?

Help me, Lord.

It was all her heart could bleat out.

“Nice ring.” Mei pointed to Rosie’s engagement ring. The diamond was bright in the afternoon light.

“Thank you.”

“Why Evan?” Mei asked.

“What do you mean?” Rosie asked as calmly as she could.

Firstly, she was surprised that she would see Evan’s family this soon. Granted, they were now engaged, and Rosie should expect a meeting at some point. But not this early.

Secondly, Mei had landed in front of her with all these questions that made her unfriendly and somewhat hostile. It was a confrontation that Rosie hadn’t been prepared for, and Evan hadn’t warned her about.

The only thing Rosie could do was take it in stride. She was trying to figure out what to say when Mei continued.

“He’s my son. I worry about him,” Mei said.

“Rightly so.” It was all Rosie could think of saying. “How old is your son?”

“Thirty-three, but you knew that.”

Rosie nodded. “He is old enough to make his own decisions about his life.”

“What if he fails?”

“Then he fails.” Rosie didn’t elaborate. In this regard, she’d taken after Dad, who had often been blunt with the truth.

Mei leaned forward. “What if he marries the wrong girl?”

“Then he suffers the consequences of his decision.” Rosie didn’t give her a chance to ask more questions. “What if I marry the wrong man?”

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