Page 43 of A Surefire Love
Dissension? She was one person, and she hated the rumor mill more than most. “I haven’t repeated what you said, but I don’t understand why he blames your leadershipfor Carter’s issues. And the attendance goal started long before the canoe trip.”
“He wants to grow the church. With families leaving, the budget is tight. The idea is that the more kids who have fun at our youth group, the more parents will choose to join us for Sunday morning.”
The church was in financial trouble? Between her habitual tardiness and her wandering mind, Blaze might’ve missed some details at the last church business meeting. “Youth group can’t carry all the pressure of increasing attendance.” She sifted through hazy memories of weekly announcements and bulletin notices. “How else is the church reaching out?”
“We’re raking leaves for people in the community in two weeks.”
Now that announcement she remembered, but not from a Sunday morning. “I thought that was a youth event, like the corn maze.”
“Adults aren’t invited to the corn maze, but there’s a sign-up sheet for the whole church to help with raking. We’ll see who volunteers.” He turned his glass. “So. Mercy got her ADHD diagnosis. Does it feel good to be right?”
He remembered? Her heart did a giddy twirl.
“It does.” About the diagnosis and about Anson and Sydney. Not that she wanted or expected them to break up, but at least she no longer had to feel guilty over her wayward feelings.
“But?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“You said you were happy you were right about Mercy, but you don’t look happy. Why not?”
“Once we had the diagnosis, we tried lifestyle changes,but Mercy was still struggling in school, so I …” She drew a deep breath. Anson watched her, attentive. “I took the doctor’s suggestion to put her on meds. The trouble is, the non-stimulant can take months to make a difference—if it’s even going to—and in the meantime, Mercy isn’t sleeping or eating enough. She’s always been a scrap of a kid, you know? I don’t want to see her lose weight. I’m torn between seeing it through, giving in to see if a stimulant makes a quicker difference, or going back to the way things were. She’d hate me for that last one, of course. She still believes medication will solve all her problems.”
The corner of his mouth pulled down. “A kid doesn’t know best.”
“I’m not sure I do either, but I’m trying. It’s just hard.” This was a lot to dump on an acquaintance, but she couldn’t stop herself any more than she could’ve saved herself from the river. “My appointment is coming up, but if it’s this much of a hassle to get Mercy settled, do I want to deal with a second diagnosis and prescription? It’s overwhelming as it is.”
He took a measured breath, studying her. “Sometimes things have to get worse to get better.”
She waved her hand. That saying was peskier than a housefly. “The doctor said that too. I’m just not sure better’s in the cards for us.”
He chuckled. “Since when do you consult cards?”
She sighed. Of course she’d said something theologically wrong.
“‘I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.’ Psalm 27:13.” Gentleness marked Anson’s voice. “God’s goodness doesn’t always show up in the form of an effective treatment, but, then again, Hedoes answer an awful lot of prayers through modern medicine.”
But her prayers? The few answers she’d seen lately didn’t outweigh the years of unanswered pleas. Most of those involved her mother’s alcoholism, though—did that count as many disappointments or one big one?
“Seriously.” Anson rested his arms on the table and leaned closer. “Have a little hope.”
“I have alittle.”
“But not a lot?” He was one surprise after another tonight. Even at their friendliest, he hadn’t shown this willingness to linger with her and discuss hard topics.
Her silly, dancing heart tugged with the desire to leap into his arms. She twisted her ankle around a rung of her chair to keep herself from acting on it. “I usually have to fend for myself. Not that God’s not there, but people fail. All the time.”
He tapped his thumb on the table, and she imagined how that strong hand could cover hers. “You’ve had a lot of disappointments.”
“You were one of them.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “When?”
She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. If he wouldn’t acknowledge his mistakes, this fledgling friendship would fail, and they’d be back to mostly ignoring each other. But better to find out sooner than later whether the safety she felt around him was real. “You were friendly my first day of high school and too good for me the next.”
He winced. “You’re right. I was young and immature.”
She considered pressing until he told her which of the rumors had changed his attitude, but she didn’t want to hearagain the worst of what others said about her. Especially not from him. Instead, she posed a question that had haunted her almost as long. “What about the time my mom forgot to pick me up after that game, and I asked you for a ride home?”
