A pain shot through her breast, and she curled up, wincing. She kept turning pages until she got to the Psalms. Then she skimmed and stopped at the beginning of Psalm 5.
Give ear to my words, O LORD,
Consider my groaning.
Heed the sound of my cry for help, my King and my God,
For to You I pray.
In the morning, O LORD, You will hear my voice;
In the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch.
She could cry to God for help. That’s what struck her. Would He hear her, though?
Kendra kept reading, of souls dismayed, of the need for refuge, of grief and distress. She saw herself, her pain, in the pages.
Psalm 18 stopped her next.
“I love You, O LORD, my strength.”
The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge;
My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised,
And I am saved from my enemies.
The words reached to her core. She closed her eyes, suddenly aware of how far she was from God. She didn’t know Him like this—as her strength and rock and fortress and deliverer. What did it even mean? What did that look like?
She read those three verses again, and words jumped out at her: . . . the horn of my salvation . . . my stronghold . . . and I am saved . . .
She read the entire psalm, seeing those words repeated, and words like blameless and pure and this—For I have kept the ways of the LORD . . .
Kendra’s heart was pounding. She hadn’t kept God’s ways. She hadn’t even thought much about Him. Was she saved? She’d grown up in church, but suddenly she wasn’t sure what that meant.
So many questions pressed through her mind. On impulse, she grabbed her phone and texted Lance.
R U UP?
Seconds later she read his reply.
YEP.
Her thumb typed again.
U MIND COMING UP?
A moment later Kendra heard his footsteps. He knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she said, pulling the covers up gently. It hurt when they rubbed against her breast.
Lance entered her room in long gym shorts and a faded Cardinals World Series Champs tee. “I thought you might need help this morning,” he said. “Sounded like the pain got really bad.”
“It did,” she said, “but that’s not why I texted.” She raked a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, I must look a complete mess.”
“Kendra . . .”
“I know.” She sighed. It was hard being needy and vulnerable . . . and messy.
He came closer, waiting.
“First, thank you.” She lifted the Bible from under the covers. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this until I started reading.” She glanced down at it. “It really hit me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It does that. And you’re welcome.”
“You can sit down.” She moved over in the queen-size bed, giving him space. “So . . . I feel really stupid right now.”
“Why?”
“I feel like there’s so much I should know, but don’t . . . about the Bible, I mean.” She stared at the page, still opened to Psalm 18. “And I feel like you could probably answer every question I have.”
“I highly doubt that,” he said.
Kendra curled inward again, groaning at the pain, then took a breath when it passed.
“I’m almost sure you can,” she said. “It’s about salvation.”
Kendra sat in the living area of the lower level, laughing at photos with Lance. He’d pushed the chair over so she could sit beside him at the computer in comfort as she learned to edit.
“I see you,” Kendra said, “thinking you got swag. Look at that pose.”
They’d taken that one by the water yesterday.
“That’s how you told me to pose.”
“Yeah, but you threw a little extra in there.”
“And what do you mean, ‘thinking you got swag’? Don’t get confused. I gots swag.”
Kendra laughed. “Oh, it’s a fact, is it?” She cut him a side-glance. “Okay. I didn’t know.”
Lance was laughing with her. “I got that getting-old-thirtysomething swag.”
She shook her head at him as she played with the tools in Lightroom, the software Lance was training her on. By early afternoon she’d grown sick of her room and needed a change of scenery. This way, she could rest and indulge in photography at the same time.
Lance’s phone rang, and he answered it.
“Darrin, what’s up? . . . Y’all are over there now? . . . Yeah, she invited me . . .”
Kendra lessened the exposure on a photo of Lance, then cropped it a little.
“I don’t know, man. I’ll have to see . . . I know. I know . . . All right, later.”
Kendra kept her gaze on the screen, testing levels of sharpness. “Go.”
“Huh?” Lance said.
“Go to the cookout.”
“How do you know there’s a cookout?”
“It doesn’t take rocket science. It’s the Fourth.” She looked at him. “Lance, seriously, you shouldn’t be stuck in the house on a holiday. You need to be outside in the sunshine with friends, having a good time.”
“I’m not stuck,” he said. “And I thought I was already having a good time.”
Kendra twirled a finger. “Woo, what a party. Doing what you can do in your sleep, with a woman who’s too sick to stand.” She looked back at the screen. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I keep telling you—live your life.”
She moved the mouse, maneuvering another tool, and he covered her hand with his.
“Did it occur to you that I might be living my life right here . . . right now?”
An unexpected flurry of . . . something . . . shot through her. They held each other’s gaze, then she looked back at the screen, silently exhaling.
“Hey, where is everybody?”
Footsteps bounded downstairs.
“Trey and Molly, with grocery bags?” Lance asked.
“When I called and y’all weren’t doing anything,” Trey said, “I figured, hey, we can have a cookout.”
Kendra was smiling. “Aw, I haven’t had a cookout at home in forever.”
“You said we,” Lance said. “Does that mean you’ll be grilling?”
“By we, I meant you.” Trey laughed. “But I can get the grill ready.”
“That’s good stuff, man,” Lance said. “Let’s get it going.”
The guys went upstairs, but Molly stayed behind. She looked over Kendra’s shoulder. “What are you working on?”
“I’ve been bitten by the photography bug,” Kendra said. “Learning how to edit photos.”
“You took these?”
“Well. Yeah. It was my first location shoot, so I’ve got a lot more to learn.”
“They’re cool, though.” Molly took Lance’s seat. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Not at all.”
Molly dug into a grocery bag she had with her. “I made you something,” she said, pulling out a pan covered with foil. “Brownies.”
Kendra turned to her. “Really? Why?”
“Trey said chocolate helps you, so . . .” She shrugged.
Kendra looked at the girl she’d never really focused on, beyond her clothes and hair, which today was purple and spiky. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” She eyed the pan. “Can I taste one?”
“Absolutely!” Molly rolled back the foil.
Kendra picked one and tasted it. “Oh my gosh, so good.” She took another bite, a big one.
Molly did a head bow. “Why, thank you.”
Kendra paused before her next bite. “Molly, for what it’s worth at this point, I apologize for saying Trey couldn’t bring you to the wedding.”
Molly shrugged. “No big deal. I get it. I don’t fit in most places.” She paused. “An
d sometimes I try too hard to fit in, and I get myself in trouble.”
Kendra looked long at her. “I want to get to know you, Molly. Just as you are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
IT FELT LIKE THEY WERE HAVING A PARTY. LANCE MOVED ABOUT the house, cleaning, excited about their first gathering, and doubly excited that Trey was there, helping him.
“How many chairs should I bring up?” Trey shouted from below.
“I don’t know,” Lance called back from the kitchen. Initially at least, they wanted to keep the group small, comprising mostly people who weren’t churched. Trey had invited some of his circle, including Molly, of course. “Maybe bring four or five,” he shouted back.
The doorbell rang, and Lance shouted in that direction. “Come in!”
Cyd walked in with a huge baking dish, Cedric behind her with Chase in his arms, fighting to get down.
“The Londons, how are ya?” Lance went to greet them. “Aw, why are you keeping him captive, Cedric? Let the little man down.”
Cedric laughed. “Remember you said that when you’re begging for me to pick him up.”
Cedric set him down, and the two-year-old ran behind his mother to the kitchen. “I want a cookie, Mommy. I want a cookie.”
“Not yet, baby.” Cyd put the pan on the stove. “Cookies are still in the car, and you’re eating dinner with vegetables before you get one.”
He stomped a foot. “I don’t want veggietables.”
She eyed her son, then looked at Lance. “My life. Never a dull moment.”
“I’ll get the rest of the food,” Cedric said.
Lance looked at Cyd. “How much did you bring?”
“Baked chicken is in the pan,” she said. “Cedric’s bringing in a sweet potato dish, green beans, homemade rolls . . .”
“Are you serious? Homemade rolls?”
“. . . macaroni and cheese, German chocolate cake, and cookies.”
He blank-stared her. “What if we don’t get many people beyond us? And whoever we do get, I hope they don’t think we’re rolling like this every week. Next week might be beans and franks.”
Trey came up carrying folding chairs, two in each arm. “Hey, Professor London.”
“Hey, Trey, it’s good to see you.” She hugged him, then looked him in the eye. “How are you?”
“I’m . . . good.” He nodded slightly, almost to himself, maybe convincing himself.
Lance nodded with him. In the past week they’d had a couple more extended conversations, one spontaneously as they grilled on the Fourth, another when Trey had come downstairs looking for him. They’d prayed together, looked at Scriptures together, and wrestled together with questions. Trey hadn’t stopped hanging out—but he’d been home more. And when he said he’d be here tonight, Lance was overjoyed.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Cyd said. “I’ve been praying for you.”
“I appreciate that,” Trey said, and seemed to mean it.
“Where’s Kendra?” Cyd asked.
“Lying down,” Lance said. “She’s had some rough days. But she wants to come down when we get started.”
Cedric brought in the rest of the goods, and the group worked to get set up. Less than an hour later they were ready and wondering who would show.
Lance knocked on Kendra’s door and poked his head in. “It’s seven,” he said. “Do you want to come down now or wait awhile?”
“I’ll come now,” she said.
She raised herself slowly and moved her legs over the side of the bed, slipping on flip-flops. Lance helped her up.
“I’m okay,” she said.
Twice, nausea and fatigue had made her legs go wobbly on the stairs, so Lance wasn’t taking any chances. Arm around her waist, he supported her down as the doorbell rang.
“I’ll help her to the kitchen,” Trey said.
“Good grief.” Kendra cut her eyes at both of them. “Y’all stop treating me like an invalid.”
Lance opened the door and smiled. “Moll, what’s up?”
“Dude.” Molly raised her hands, launching them into a complicated series of slaps, fist pounds, and snaps, all of which ended in a hug.
A young woman with black-rimmed glasses and sandy hair stood behind her. “Did you just call him dude? Is that the pastor?”
Lance chuckled. He’d gotten to know Molly better on the Fourth, when everybody’s silly side seemed to come out, and they’d ended up creating their own secret shake.
Molly turned to her friend. “Jess, meet Lance, pastor and, yes, cool dude.”
Lance shook Jess’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Jess. Welcome.” Then he half bowed to Molly. “Cool dude is a high honor.”
She bowed in return. “An honor most due.”
Trey saw them from the kitchen. “You two bring out the weirdness in one another.”
Lance went to close the door but saw someone straggling near the foot of the walkway. He recognized him and walked out to greet him. “Hey, Timmy, you coming in?”
Hands in his pockets, Timmy stared into the street. “Still deciding.”
“You can always eat while you decide.”
Timmy turned slightly. “I probably won’t stay.”
Lance shrugged. “That’s cool.”
They all congregated in the kitchen, four women at the table, four guys standing nearby. The younger ones, all Wash U students, had piled high their plates.
“I haven’t had a meal like this in a long time.” Trey paused with a roll in his hand. “This is on point, Professor London.”
Molly nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a meal like this. It’s delicious, Professor London.”
“Thanks, you guys.” She smiled. “And I think I’ll be Cyd off campus.”
“Cyd!” Chase pointed at her. “Mommy!”
Cyd laughed. “If everyone wants to call me Mommy, that works too.”
“Is it appropriate to get seconds?” Timmy asked.
Molly twisted in her chair, looking at him. “What, you got the munchies, Timmy?”
Timmy cocked his head at her. “I can’t believe you said that in front of Profess—Cyd.”
“It’s a Bible study,” Molly said. “They expect us to have issues.”
“And on that note,” Lance said with a chuckle, “while we’re eating, we’re going to start with an icebreaker, where we introduce ourselves—but this is an unconventional icebreaker.”
Heads turned, giving attention.
“I’ll start. My name is Lance Alexander. I’m a photographer and a youth pastor. I’m also an ex-drug dealer and ex-convict.”
Timmy turned from the mac and cheese with a look suggesting he hadn’t heard right.
Lance gestured to Cedric.
“My name is Cedric London. I’m a husband and father, and VP at an executive search firm. I’m also an ex-womanizer.”
“And I’m Cyd London. Wife, mother, and professor.” She paused. “I almost said ex-worrier and ex-doubter, but I still struggle with those things at times. So I’ll say ex–people pleaser.”
Molly seemed to soak in that one.
“We don’t always introduce ourselves this way”—Lance smiled—“but we’re calling this Wednesday night gathering The Shadow for a reason. We tend to live in shadows—shadows of doubt, fear, shame, secrecy.”
Lance was surprised to see Jess nodding.
He continued. “Sometimes we want to operate in the shadows. I wanted to keep my activity hidden from the police.” He draped an arm around Cedric. “My man here had to make sure one woman didn’t know about the other.”
Cedric nodded knowingly.
“We shared that about ourselves so you’d know that we know what it’s like to live in shadows, dark shadows,” Lance said. “And tonight we want to begin talking about what it’s like to dwell in a different shadow. Instead of fear and shame, it’s a place of refuge and blessing.”
Lance looked around the room. “But first, let’s continue introductions.” He saw a couple
of nervous expressions. “And no, you don’t have to introduce yourself the way we did!”
“Right.” Molly wagged her eyebrows. “We’ll share all our issues later.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KENDRA TOOK A MIDMORNING SHOWER, STILL FOCUSED ON THE shadow. It was on her mind as she awoke through the night and when she finally got up. Lance had explained what it meant, but she had to see for herself. With a Bible app she’d downloaded to her phone, she searched the word and looked up the relevant verses as she lay in bed. Once again, the Psalms were nurturing her soul.
She closed her eyes, remembering the words as water cascaded down her back.
Hide me in the shadow of Your wings.
My soul takes refuge in You; and in the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge . . .
For You have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.
That place. She could picture it, nestled under the wings of the Almighty. Sheltered from the raging storm. She was protected there. She could sing there. Or so it said.
How do I sing there, Lord? How do I sing for joy in the midst of pain?
She’d been talking to God a lot lately, questions more than anything, and she had a lot of time to do it. It helped to talk through the pain.
She finished showering and stepped out, wrapping herself in her towel. She removed her shower cap and fluffed out her hair—and a clump came out in her hand. A big clump. Her heart constricted.
Dr. Contee had said that two weeks after the start of chemo, her hair would begin to fall out. A couple of days ago, her scalp had felt a little tingly, but her hair was fine. Now here it was in her hand, like clockwork.
Turning to the mirror, she saw the spot missing the hair. She laid the clump on the sink and carefully touched a different side of her head. Tears welled when another clump filled her hand.
Kendra knew this would be a hard day. Her hair had always been the first thing people noticed about her. She’d worn it various lengths over the years, but mostly long. Although for the past weeks she’d only had energy to let it dry naturally and ponytail it, she liked to wet-set it and sit under the dryer for full, bouncy curls. What would she do now? She could watch it fall out, or cut it all off.
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