Page 120 of Lone Star Longing
She thought, when Marianne poured her own glass, that she was probably glad of the larger size.
Lacey had cut into the lasagna and started serving it up when her mother interrupted to ask for a blessing. Lacey’s dad inclined a hand toward Joyce to indicate that she should go ahead. All of them bowed their heads while Joyce prayed.
“What time is church tomorrow?” she asked almost immediately when she was done with the prayer.
Lacey and her dad looked at each other. “I honestly don't know,” Lacey said. She hadn’t been to church except for weddings and funerals in years, even though the churches were where most events were held.
Joyce looked at her ex. “You didn't take her to church after I left?”
“We went for a while.” Her dad would not be shamed. “But it was hard for both of us, with our schedules. So we stopped going most weeks.”
“I can’t believe Mrs. Lopez didn't give you a bad time about not going.”
“I let her know it was none of her business.”
“I left her with you thinking you’d raise her right.”
Her father sat back in his chair. “And I did. She’s an amazing woman.”
“I can vouch for that,” Beck added, making Lacey blush.
“But she didn't grow up in a church, with any kind of spiritual guidance.”
“You gave her that when she was younger. She was fifteen when you left. She had the background she needed, and if she’d wanted to go, I wouldn’t have stopped her.”
“Maybe if she’d been more involved in the church, she wouldn't have ended up pregnant and unmarried.”
“Now wait a minute.” Tanya broke in as Marianne gasped. “One has nothing to do with the other. I mean, there but for the grace of God go I.”
“Maybe this isn’t the kind of conversation we want to have in front of the kids,” Leonard interjected quietly.
“You’re right, of course,” her father said, but looked in Lacey’s direction to make sure she was okay.
She wasn’t. That was what her mother thought of her? That she was an irreligious hussy? That being pregnant was her punishment for not going to church?
Beside her, Beck’s hand tightened on his fork, so that his knuckles were white. She glanced up at his face to see his expression hard, something she’d never seen before. She reached over and put her hand on his, hoping to calm him. He turned his head sharply to her and shook his head.
“Beck.” The soft word in the silence drew everyone’s attention to him, which hadn’t been her intention at all.
“You don't know her,” he said.
“What are you talking about? I’m her mother.”
“And you see her, what, twice a year? You don't know her. You don't know what kind of woman she is day-to-day. The generosity she has with her friends, with her patients. You don't know how she interacts with people. You think that she’s pregnant because she didn't go to church? You’re putting that on her and her dad? I think that’s a pretty terrible thing for a mother to say, and I’m pretty much an expert on terrible things mothers can say.”
“I’m sorry.” Joyce’s tone was sincere as she turned to Lacey. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was lashing out and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You chose to stay, and I shouldn’t resent that.”
Anger started bubbling up in Lacey, too. “You resent that I stayed, and I resent that you left, so I guess we’re even.”
“I couldn't stay here.”
“We’ve had this conversation.”
“This weekend has reminded me I was right to leave. I would have lost my mind here with nothing to do, nothing in common with any of these people.”
Lacey’s stomach twinged. This was the very thing she feared would happen with Beck. He would remember the things he loved that he’d left behind, and he’d leave, too. She was strong. She could handle it. But she didn't want to feel that pain. Not if she could avoid it.
“Mom, Leonard is right. This is probably something we shouldn’t be talking about in front of the kids,” Tanya said. “And Marianne went to all this work. Let’s not ruin her meal.”
