Zander’s mouth opened wide enough to catch flies. “What’s up, Max? Why didn’t you try to catch ’em? Mom, are you crying?”
Maxine straightened sofa pillows. Vivienne wiped her face and edged around her son, squeezing his shoulder as she passed him into the kitchen.
Celeste peeled a clementine and watched the activity. She seemed to be weighing which road to take before opting for the wider one leading to Vivienne. “Are y’all okay?”
Vivienne pushed closed the trash can and faced her baby girl. “Yes, yes, we’re fine, honey. You know Maxine. All this to-do over the weddin’. It’s hard on everybody.” She moved toward the refrigerator after rubbing Celeste’s shoulder in the same way she’d touched her oldest son’s. “How was rehearsal? I see you’re hungry. What about you, Zan?”
In her periphery Maxine saw Celeste look from Vivienne to her. Maxine made a major production of straightening the family room while she kept one ear on the prowl for her siblings’ answers.
“Nope, I stopped on the way home and grabbed a burger. This girl here thinks you can live on SkinnyPop, fruit, and a gallon of water.” He raised an arm to block Celeste’s blow.
“Are you sure y’all are okay? If this is what a wedding does to you, no thank you.” Celeste waved her hands as if warding off a car hurtling toward her.
Maxine had pieced herself together in the few minutes she’d spent fluffing cushions, brushing away needles, and closing the box of ornaments. She hid a grimace as she forced herself to approach the three in the kitchen. Embracing Celeste might split apart the cracks in her armor, spilling her heartful of secrets onto the floor, but it appeared there was no avoiding it. She looped a curl around her earlobe as Celeste reached for her.
“Something’s on your mind, but I’ll let you keep it to yourself.” Celeste grunted as she gripped her big sister. “For now.”
“Thanks,” Maxine whispered over Celeste’s head as she returned the embrace. She couldn’t resist stroking the hair at her nape, the silky, dark-brown strands that were the color of JD’s.
Jay. Maxine pushed away from Celeste and drew a deep breath. She reached up to ruffle her younger brother’s hair because she knew how much he hated it. “Okay, I’ve gotta go.” Maxine exhaled and almost sprinted through the kitchen, angling toward the mudroom. She lifted her coat off a hook and faced the kitchen for one last good-bye.
“V-day plans?” Celeste asked her mother, aiming a thumb in Maxine’s direction.
Vivienne pointed at the teenager’s trappings nearly blocking the kitchen window.
Celeste ducked her head at her mama’s unspoken directive and grabbed her backpack and jacket but stopped short when she reached for the large instrument case. “Um, Zan, can I get some help with my bass? By the way, Sis, I read last month’s post. Nice!”
Maxine finished buttoning. “Thanks, knucklehead. Better late than never.”
“It made me want to go sit by the creek, float a couple leaves, maybe count some deer, do some bird-watching . . . No, I’m serious! Don’t look at me like that!” She laughed. “But can’t you slow your roll? You’re leaving so quickly, and we just got home.”
Maxine looked over Celeste’s shoulder. “Zander, First John won’t be back until next week, so you’ll need to help me lug out the tree. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?”
“After basketball practice.” He grabbed Celeste’s double bass and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Mom, okay if I borrow your car? I’m out of gas. Later, Maxine.”
“Thanks, Zan. Now I’ve gotta run myself so I can get ready before Teddy arrives. We’ll finish up tomorrow, Mother. Celeste, you and I will catch up then. Bye, y’all!” Maxine stepped closer to the mudroom.
“Okay, okay, but wait. Do you have a minute?” Celeste bounded over as Zander headed up the back stairs.
“For you? Thirty seconds.”
Celeste stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes.
Maxine laughed a bit and relaxed her shoulders. “Of course. What is it?”
Celeste handed her a 3½-by-2-inch rectangle.
Maxine took her hand off the doorknob to reach for it.
“Who’s James D. Lester?”
Chapter Seven
“I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR AN OPENING, for a way to tell you the truth. . . . You see, James D. Lester is your father, your biological father. And by the way, he might want you to call him Dad now—so keep that in mind when we cozy up at the dinner table to talk about all this. Ignore that woman in the kitchen who’s been there for you all your life who, I might add, has lied to you day and night—just like I have, but that’s beside the point—and just focus on the facts. I know this is a lot to take in now, but really, I blame you for bringing it up.”
Maxine swallowed these wild, unspoken thoughts as she soaked in the lettering on the card: James D. Lester, JD-MBA, Executive Director, Hillsong Community. When she dragged her eyes from his contact information, she found Celeste’s wide-eyed gaze resting on her.
“So do you know Mr. Lester, Maxine? He knows you.” Celeste leaned against the doorframe as her fingers tapped out a tune on the cream-colored millwork.
A crater opened where Maxine’s mouth used to be. She snapped it closed with a loud click of her teeth before opening it again. “He does?”
“Yes, he said he knew you back in high school. I thought it was funny—not funny ha-ha, but funny weird—because you’ve never mentioned him. He knows you?”
In what sense? Biblical? Maxine cleared her throat and tried to silence the cowbells, kazoos, and triangles clanging and whirring and tinkling inside her head, all warning her, “Danger! Turn back!” Yet she plowed ahead.
“How did you meet Mr. Lester, Celeste? You had orchestra.” Maxine looked around Celeste to Vivienne, who was watching, strangely wordless, over the rim of her glass. “Mother, haven’t you explained to her about how risky it is to talk to strangers?”
“You knew him in high school, so he’s not a stranger to you.” Celeste shrugged.
“But he is a stranger to you . . . and all you know is what he said to you. Good gracious! This is as bad as ‘Hey, little girl, come help me find my puppy’ or ‘Hello, I have some candy for you. Hop into my black panel van and I’ll give you a whole bag of Werther’s.’ Celeste!”
“Maxine, really? I’m not clueless.”
“Well, stop acting like you are.”
Crash!
Both Maxine and Celeste jumped.
“Shoot!” Vivienne pointed at the closet near the mudroom. “Celeste, grab the broom. No. The vacuum. Glass is everywhere.”
Celeste scurried to obey.
Vivienne waved at Maxine. “Go on now. You’d best get ready for your date. We’ve got this under control. Celeste, be careful. Don’t cut yourself. Tell me, did the conductor have any more details about the concert?”
Maxine edged to the door as her mother expertly lured Celeste away from one sticky subject by dangling another one she could adhere to.
“Wait!”
Maxine sighed and rotated in slow motion to face Celeste once more. “Now what?”
“My card.” The teen wiggled the fingers on the outstretched hand that wasn’t holding the vacuum.
Hillsong Community. JD’s business and cell phone numbers played a drum cadence in Maxine’s mind as she handed over the rectangle. Then she waggled a good-bye in return and slipped out with a firm thump of the door.
________
“What’s on your mind?”
“What?”
Theodore’s knuckles rapped on the ragged nails Maxine had pressed to the arm of her chair. “You haven’t said a word in the past seven minutes.”
“I just don’t like waiting.”
He raised a brow. “That didn’t stop you from making me wait almost twenty minutes in the car earlier.”
“That’s because Mother kept me too long, and I needed to shower.”
“Okay. But why couldn’t I have come inside?”
Max
ine’s honey-colored cheeks warmed. “Because I was in the shower, Teddy! I don’t think it’s a good idea if you’re in my apartment when I’m . . .” She felt uncomfortable saying naked in Pastor Atwater’s office, and she couldn’t come up with another word that didn’t sound archaic.
“Indisposed?” Apparently Theodore had traipsed down the same vocabulary trail. He laughed softly and glanced behind him before leaning in closer. “You think I can’t control myself?”
“Theodore!” Maxine looked toward the open door and lowered her voice. “It’s a small garage apartment. When you’re sitting in one room, you can pretty much see everywhere and everyone else.”
Her fiancé leaned over the arms of their chairs and kissed the tip of her nose. “Miss Virtuous Woman in her horn-rims, pink cardigan, and wool slacks. I love that you’re so easily flustered.”
Maxine shifted her glasses as Teddy laughed again.
“I see you two are getting along well.”
Maxine shielded her eyes with her right hand, as this time, Teddy had the grace to look sheepish before pushing himself to his feet and extending his hand in greeting. “I think we might need to ‘bell the pastor.’ It’d be nice to hear you coming.”
Reverend Atwater shook his head. “That’s been tried before. I don’t always wear a collar you can attach a bell to, but how about when I enter the room, I’ll say something like ‘Let the church say amen!’”
“Amen!” Maxine and Teddy chorused.
The pastor shut the door and walked around his desk. “I’m sorry I’m late. My cup runneth over today.” He scooted his chair and rested his elbows on the desk. “Okay, enough with the weak church humor. How are you two?”
Maxine turned to Teddy, but he only returned her look, his eyebrows expressing a silent question. She directed her shrug toward the pastor. “Okay, I guess?”
He raised his shoulders exaggeratedly. “Well, don’t ask me. Theodore?”
“I think we’re both stressed a bit, what with all the wedding prep. Plus our day-to-day commitments. Sometimes it’s hard to know whether we’re coming or going.”
“Do you make time for each other outside of wedding planning?”
Maxine’s lips were glued shut. Her mind was also stuck but on a continuous video loop of JD Lester. Celeste. JD Lester. Celeste.
Her fiancé tapped her arm. “Any thoughts, Maxine? This isn’t the Theodore Charles show.”
She forced her lips apart. “Well, we . . .” She sought refuge in the eyes of the man sitting across from them.
Reverend Atwater chuckled. “I think Theodore was looking for some help, but it seems there’s nothing but all work and no play for you two. Don’t panic. That’s normal. It’s your big day, one of the biggest of your lives. But it’s important you remember that it’s easier to get married than it is to stay married.” He leaned back in his chair, looking like he’d just pulled the pin from his hand grenade.
“Well, that’s encouraging.” Maxine shook her head.
Reverend Atwater rested his chin on a fist as he looked up to heaven. “Let’s see, how can I put it better?”
Maxine glanced up, also hoping for divine inspiration. Or maybe I’ll just know when to duck. She noted the answering V formed by Teddy’s eyebrows.
“Hmmm. Maybe ‘plan the wedding, but work on the marriage’? How’s that?”
“Better.” Maxine reached across the small distance between her and Teddy, but she didn’t touch his hand. Instead, she clasped the arm of his chair. “Our eyes are on the prize, Reverend Atwater. Truly they are. It’s just that wedding details have consumed us.”
Teddy shifted in his seat. “You mean, consumed you. I don’t care about quiche tastings, tuxedo fittings, or venue selections. We could convene in my school cafeteria tomorrow, and I’d be happy.” He tried to cover her fingers with his.
Maxine’s throat felt dry though her words were as smooth as oil. “I don’t think that’s Reverend Atwater’s point, Theodore. And no, you wouldn’t be happy sipping from eight-ounce chocolate milk cartons at our wedding reception. At least, your mother wouldn’t. The school cafeteria isn’t good enough for her only son.” Not that I am either.
God must have whispered in Reverend Atwater’s ear, for he seemed to perk up. “How do you get along with your future in-laws? Any issues?”
“My parents love Teddy. They think he’s a sugar cookie, sweet enough to dunk in a cup of milk, chocolate or otherwise.”
The pastor’s eyes widened. “Oh? And what about Teddy’s parents? What type of cookie are you, Maxine?”
She glanced at Teddy before answering. “Maybe we should stretch out on matching chaises. This is starting to feel more like a therapy session than premarital counseling with our future pastor.”
Reverend Atwater’s eyes twinkled over the steeple his fingers had created. “What—sign your marriage license, pray over you, and call it a wedding day already?”
Maxine shrugged. “I thought we’d talk about our faith, our marriage roles, or our plans for church ministry. And just so you know, I don’t want to sing in the choir.”
“Duly noted. But I need to get to know the two parts of the whole—especially you, Maxine. I get to look at this one here every week.” He smiled at Teddy before turning her way. “Maybe that way I can help you visualize how you fit together. Help you connect your past with the future God has in store for you.”
Theodore cleared his throat. “You don’t need to reassure us. You’re the pastor of this church—our pastor. We both believe in the greater purpose behind talking with you. Don’t we, Maxine?”
She sighed under the weight of Teddy’s expectations. “And what is that ‘greater purpose,’ Teddy?”
“Well, it’s just like Reverend Atwater said. We’ve been walking our own paths for about thirty years, and now here we are, pledging before God to walk together. Forever. That’s a long time. We need to know what we’re getting into.”
“I don’t think that’s exactly what you said, Pastor. Shouldn’t Teddy already know what he’s ‘getting into’?” Even as Maxine mustered the indignation to pose the question, her insides wiggled and jiggled. But it wasn’t because she’d swallowed a fly. The casserole of lies and truth didn’t agree with her.
“Maxine. It’s true we’ve only known each other a few months, but I wouldn’t have proposed if I wasn’t ready.”
“But that’s exactly my point! Since we’re so ready for this, we should be navigating the next fifty years, not dissecting the past thirty.” Maxine stood and moved toward the door. She didn’t open it, but she stood close enough that she caught a faint whiff of freedom.
Theodore sprang to his feet and landed beside her in two giant steps. He looked from her to the minister and back. “I don’t know where all this is coming from. You barely speak to me the whole way here, and now you’re talking so much you’re not listening.”
“Hold up. I’m not listening? How many times have I shared my concerns about this premarital counseling? No offense, Pastor—”
“None taken.”
“—and you’ve blown me off with a pat and a smile. Now here we are, on the verge of discussing the eternal implications of what five-year-old Maxine ate for lunch and we’re fighting. Fighting! Something we never do.”
“Never, Maxine?” Reverend Atwater’s quiet voice threw water on the fire.
Maxine and Theodore faced him, still smoldering.
“You never argue?”
Maxine shook her head. Theodore seemed to think about it.
“Mrs. Atwater and I do. In fact, that’s why I was late getting here. Lilian disagreed with my decision regarding our kitchen remodel. Now she might not want me to talk about it, but we can argue about that later.” Reverend Atwater chuckled as he pushed back his chair and propped a hip on the desk’s edge.
“Fighting, arguing, disagreeing. They sound worse than they are. At the root, you’re each presenting and defending your position. Being vehement about something or someo
ne you believe in. You should each be a safe place where the other can demonstrate or express your passion and personality. You seek shelter in each other, not from each other.
“Maxine, your opinion never differs from Teddy’s—well, aside from your views on premarital counseling, that is?”
She fiddled with the buttons on her cardigan and then repositioned her glasses on her nose. “I’m sure it does. Sometimes. But we just think alike. That’s what drew us together. According to Mother, it’s what attracted her to Daddy, my real father. And it’s what makes our relationship special, I think.”
“So you have the same views on everything?”
Probably not about teen pregnancy. Maxine stomped on the thought. “You make that sound wrong. Doesn’t the Bible say, ‘Submit one to another’?”
“Yes, it does. But it doesn’t say, ‘Lose yourself in one another.’”
“I don’t think Maxine loses herself in me.” Again, the lines on Teddy’s forehead spelled the letter V. “She does respect my opinion though. And we have a lot in common.”
“And you respect hers—although it sounds like she doesn’t have too many that differ from yours.” Reverend Atwater returned to his chair.
Teddy sat a second after she’d sunk into her chair.
“Does that include how you feel about your extended families?” He glanced down at a notepad on his desk. “Teddy, I believe Maxine compared you to a sugar cookie.”
“More like a snickerdoodle. But yes, her parents seem to like having me around. They think I’m good for her.”
“And you, Maxine?”
I’m a lemon square. “Forgive me, but what do my future in-laws have to do with us?”
Reverend Atwater sighed and looked away from them. “Well, okay. Let me show you.” He held up a slightly crooked index finger. “When we took the grandkids to Disney World last year, we bought them this intricate 10,000-piece jigsaw puzzle.” As he talked, he opened his large center desk drawer and withdrew a thick 8½-by-11 pad. “On each piece are tiny images. We have the exciting job of connecting all these images to form pictures within a bigger picture.”
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