Page 43 of Wishes on Wildflowers
“Apparently.”
Testosterone seemed to fuel pride. Jasmine should know,with four brothers and a pack of male cousins. But it wasn’t all that bad, most of the time. Not when steered in the right direction.
“Who’s got the kids?”
“Dixie’s mom. After she faced off with my dad in the Labor and Delivery corridor, she came back to their apartment and railed at me for a while. Like I have power to change anything.”
Sleep wouldn’t be returning any minute soon. Jasmine scooted to sit at the head of her bed, clutching her pillow to her chest. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do. Logan and I have prayed so much for Dan and Dixie, that they’d realize they need a savior in their lives.”
“People don’t usually come to that realization when everything is humming along perfectly.”
Linnea picked at a thread on Jasmine’s quilt. “No, I suppose not. Dan’s been asking a lot of questions, but it seems like it could go either way right now. I can’t remember when I’ve seen him this furious.”
Probably because Linnea’s dad and oldest brother had the market cornered on temper. Dan had slid out of the crosshairs years ago in self-preservation. Jasmine’s own family might not be perfect — although it was pretty close if she didn’t count Basil — but she’d never heard her father lose his temper, let alone with the foul language Dave Ranta Senior spewed when crossed. The scene in the maternity ward must have been quite an earful for the hospital staff. She could almost feel sorry for Eunice Wayling.
Almost. No doubt Dixie’s mother had given as good as she’d received. Or as ugly, as the case might be. What a mess.
Jasmine could barely make out her roommate’s bent formin the dim glow through the window. “Linnea?”
“Yeah?” Even the response was listless.
“Want to pray together?”
Linnea straightened. “Would you?”
“Yeah, for sure. Come here.” Jasmine scooted over a little on her bed and patted the space beside her.
Linnea grabbed the extra pillow off the floor before settling into the offered spot. “Thanks, Jasmine. You don’t know what this means to me.”
Maybe she was getting a clue. Linnea and Dan’s family. Nathan’s family. Even Linnea’s fiancé’s family. So many were completely messed up. Maybe the first thing she should do was remember to be thankful she’d been born to Grace and Raimondo Santoro. That Marietta was her grandmother. That she had cousins like Peter, Rob, and Fran. Brothers like Marco, Alex, and Evan.
She should pray for Basil. Had she been showing Christ’s love to her least favorite brother? Not even a little bit. She should pray for Dafne. It wouldn’t be long now before her teenage cousin gave birth, and she hadn’t decided yet whether to keep the baby or not.
Why wasn’t Jasmine praying more for those around her?
Tonight. Right now at — she peeked at the clock — two nineteen in the morning, she was going to change that. Nonna had reminded her it didn’t matter if her prayers stuck at the ceiling, since God was in the room with her.
Jasmine scrunched her eyes shut. “Dear Jesus, You’ve said that where two or three are gathered in Your name, You’re in our midst. So here I am with Your child, Linnea, and we’ve come to ask You to speak into Dan’s and Dixie’s lives with Your love and peace.”
“Yes, Lord,” whispered Linnea.
The hostess usheredthem to a tiny booth on the window side of Frank’s Diner, and Nathan slid in across from Jasmine. Memories washed over him of all the times they’d come in years gone by, but the diner’s history went back over a century. How many courting couples had enjoyed dates right here since it had been transformed from a presidential rail car?
So much history here. The diner itself, but Jasmine and him, too. He still couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to get a second chance with her. He wouldn’t mess up this time. Everything was different now.
Different, but the same. He studied her face as she flipped over the menu card. She would order the turkey pot pie. She always did, even though she made it seem like a new decision every time. Him, he liked everything Frank’s served, and he’d worked his way through the list more than once as a teen. The chicken-fried steak called him tonight. Just the thought of the crispy coating and the creamy gravy on home-style mashed potatoes made his mouth water.
Still, Nathan could live on bread and water if that meant keeping Jasmine in his life. He couldn’t help the grin that creased his face. Bread, water, and whatever Jasmine scrounged out of the wild. Even nettle tea would be worth it.
She glanced up. “What’s so funny?”
He chuckled. “Watching you stare down that menu like you’ve never seen it before.”
“I haven’t been here for quite a while.”
“Just order the turkey pot pie. You know you want to.”
