A Family to Cherish by Ruth Logan Herne

Author:Ruth Logan Herne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2012-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“Here you go.” Cam’s morning grin brightened an already blue-sky morning.

“Hey, girls.” Meredith grabbed Sophie’s hand and led the way into her mother’s house. “Soph, drop your stuff on the sofa. We’ll set up shop out here after breakfast. You guys hungry?”

“Dad fed us.” Rachel hung back, looking glum. “I told him you’d have food, but he made us eat oatmeal.”

“She hates oatmeal,” added Sophie. “But I like it and I’m the sick one.”

“When I get sick I’m asking for baked beans, then,” Rachel spouted. “And you’ll have to eat a double helping because they’re high in protein and really, really good for you.”

Sophie ignored her, but the hinted smile told Meredith that tweaking her sister was an oft-employed device.

Poor Cam.

She turned, caught his patience-taxed expression, and jerked her head toward the door. “You go. I’ve got this. And Mom’s going to run Rachel over to school in an hour, so we’re good.”

“Thanks, Mere.”

“No problem.” She didn’t step closer, didn’t walk him to the door, didn’t do any of those cozy, quiet intimacies that might hike this into more than it was, a friend doing a favor for another friend. The fact that she wanted to walk him to the door and give him a lingering kiss goodbye pushed her in the opposite direction.

Chicken.

Yes.

“Rachel.” When the little blonde met her eyes in the kitchen, Meredith rested her gaze on a covered plate centered on the pale oak table. “Check that out.”

“Danish.” Rachel breathed the word with proper seven-year-old reverence.

“With frosting.” Sophie’s tone followed suit.

“Only the best,” Meredith sang out, laughing at their delighted expressions. Her mother came through the swinging door at the opposite end of the kitchen and smiled.

“Cam’s girls, I take it.”

“Yup.” Meredith reached out, grabbed her mother’s hand, and pulled the smaller woman forward. “Mom, this is Sophie.”

Sophie reached out a calm, quiet hand that said she had control of the situation in a way most nine-year-olds wouldn’t for years. Very Cam-like, despite her resemblance to her mother.

“And this is Rachel.”

Rachel bounded forward, grabbed Dana in a hug, and then tipped her head back, gaze up, eyes bright, smile wide. “I tried to get sick.”

“Really?” Dana smiled down into Rachel’s bright blue eyes and arched a brow in question. “What happened?”

“It didn’t work. I even prayed about it, but God doesn’t listen all the time.”

Meredith squatted low. “Sure He does. But He doesn’t always answer the way we want.”

“Which means He’s not really listening,” argued Rachel. She frowned and pointed toward Sophie. “Sophie prayed and prayed when Mommy died, asking God to send her back. He didn’t.”

Sophie blushed. “I was little, Rach. I didn’t understand how it works.”

“How what works?” Rachel swung back, impatient. “That God doesn’t listen to us? I get that part, Sophie.”

Sophie’s expression showed mixed emotion. Embarrassment, chagrin, confusion.

Meredith bent low. “How old were you when your mother died, honey?”

Sophie seemed reluctant to explore this topic, and while Meredith understood that, she knew some things were best brought out in the open.

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