Mom manages to somehow frown in confusion while laughing at the same time. “You mean you guys haven’t…” She arches an eyebrow. “You know. Um. Slept…together? Yet?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that, Mom?”
She holds up her hands, palms facing me. “Not really, no. Just…are you happy, with him? Really and truly? Do you know in your heart and soul that he’ll still be here with you no matter how hard it gets?”
I nod. “I am happy with him. Utterly and completely. More than I feel should be even possible, sometimes. The only unhappiness is wishing I had more time. The bad days when I feel like crap and everything hurts and I can’t even open my eyes…it feels like it’s stealing the short amount of time I have with him. And I get kinda angry about it. But I just focus on feeling better and making the most of every moment I have with him.”
“Are you…are you still planning on actually marrying him? Like, for real?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “We haven’t really talked about that, yet. And honestly, I’m not planning on bringing it up. I’ll leave it to him. Being actually married isn’t really super important to me. The experience, the relationship, the emotions, that’s what really matters to me. Being married is just…a ceremony. I have the important things.”
She makes a sour face. “Marriage is important, Jo-Jo.”
I shake my head. “I’m not saying it’s not, Mom. But it’s for normal people in normal situations. It’s…it’s meant to indicate that you’re choosing that person as your life partner.” I grab Mom’s hands. “I’m not going to have a life, Mom. This is it.”
She shakes her head, blinking hard. “Don’t talk like that. Please.”
“You can’t still be in denial.”
She shakes her head again, a tear trickling down her cheek. “No. But…I guess I still have hope.”
“So do I,” Grandma says, entering the room. “I’ll never give up hope. I pray for you every single day. All day. I pray for you without ceasing, dearest one.” She kisses my temple, clings to me. “You’re going to be okay, Jolene. I know it. I’ve heard it. I’ve felt it.”
I blink. Because despite it all, I do want to live. Especially now that I have Wes in my life. “Grandma…” I inhale her familiar scent, hugging her back. “If you’re right, if God answers your prayers…I’ll believe.”
She sighs. “That’s not how it works, sweetheart, but I appreciate the thought. I know this sounds cliche, but Jesus loves you, right now. I know it’s hard to understand considering all you’ve been through, and what you’re facing. I can’t say I understand God’s ways or why he allows good people to suffer and why bad people get away with bad things. I just know in my life I’ve seen too much evidence of his love for me, and his provision, and his goodness, to not believe. He believes in you, even if you don’t believe in him. And I know not everyone gets a miracle. My own good friend, Charlotte, she battled cancer for years, and she died from it. My faith wavered, and I wept bitterly for weeks. I was angry at God for it. And I prayed for her like I do for you. But God had a plan. I don’t need to know what it is or what it looks like to believe it’s good, even when I can’t see every facet, or how the good comes from the bad.”
“Grandma—”
“I know, I know. I’m preaching, and I’m sorry.”
“I guess I’m just going to need some kind of proof from him before I can be where you are.”
“I understand that, sweetheart. I do.” She kisses my temple again. “Have faith. Have hope. I feel in my spirit that you’re going to be okay.”
“I really do hope you’re right.”
Dinner is loud and fun. We sit outside and talk and laugh well past sunset, until Grandma announces it’s well past her bedtime. She says this with a look at me, and a smirk. She’s probably seen the way Wes and I have been exchanging looks, and constantly finding ways to touch each other. I just can’t help it—I was sick for three days and then we spent the past three entertaining my family, which means we’ve had barely a moment alone. The past few days have been so full that by the time we got home—home! Our home!—we were both too tired to do anything but fall in bed together and sleep.
Which, in its own way, is just as intimate and heart-filling as anything else we could do. Cuddling with him. Falling asleep with my ear to his chest, his heartbeat lulling me to sleep. Spooning up behind him and holding his big hard body as our breathing synchs.
It’s all wonderful and beautiful.
Feeling like a family is amazing, too. The way he fits in with us, how easily he can talk to Mom and Dad, how natural it feels to sit on his lap while we talked.
But I’m antsy to be alone with him. To get my special date with him.
Wes walks Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Aunt Macy to the door, and at a significant look and wave from Bethany, I hang back with her.
“I feel like we’ve barely had a chance to talk,” she says, her voice low, as if this was a great secret.
I wince. “I know, Beth, I…I know.”
She drops her eyes. “I’m trying hard to not be jealous, but I guess I feel a little sore about being replaced as the most important person in your life.”
I take her hands, glance at the front door, at Mom and the others. Wes meets my eyes, and we have our first nonverbal conversation composed entirely of looks, wherein he asks if I need a minute with Beth and I express that I do.
“How far is the house you’re staying at from here?” I ask.
She shrugs. “We walked. Just a few doors down.”
“So, I could walk there and back?”
She nods. “Yeah, you’ll be fine, if you’re feeling up to it, I mean.”
I smile at her. “Yeah, I feel up to it.” I catch Mom’s eyes. “We’re going to walk and talk, okay? You guys go ahead.”
Wes pulls me into a side hug and kisses the top of my head as I pass him. “You good?”
I nod. “I’m good. I just need to talk to Bethany,” I murmur to him. “She’s been my best friend since we were little girls and she feels a little neglected, understandably.”
He huffs. “I never wanted to steal you from your family.”
“I know. You didn’t. I want to be alone with you. I just…she’s more than family. You know? Like, your parents you don’t choose. Your best friend? That’s a choice, and it’s important to cultivate that.”
He smiles at me as he touches my chin, tilting my head back for a brief but deep kiss. “Go. Cultivate it.”
Bethany precedes me outside and waits on the sidewalk, to give me a moment of privacy with Wes, watching this exchange with open curiosity.
When I join her, we hold hands, palms clasped—we’ve walked this way since we were old enough to walk, and it’s habit, now. I know she has things on her mind, so I hold my tongue and wait for her. We walk slowly, making the most of the short distance—I see Mom and the others ahead, already making the turn on the walkway to the front door of their rented house.