Light in the Storm. Margaret Daley
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be glad to help any way I can.”
Again his gaze snared hers, drawing her in. “You’ve already done so much.”
“Dad, aren’t you coming?” Framed in the doorway, Jane slung her backpack over her left shoulder.
“Yes. I’ll be by this time tomorrow to pick her up.”
Samuel left the classroom, with his daughter walking ahead of him at a fast clip. When he stepped outside, the brisk winter air blasted him in the face. Snow still blanketed the ground, but the roads had been cleared. He found his daughter in the passenger seat of his Ford Mustang, her eyes closed, her head resting against the cushion. For a few seconds he took in her calm expression, which of late was rare, and regretted the conversation to come. But Jane needed to know what was going to happen.
Samuel started the car and drove out of the school parking lot. Lord, I know I haven’t visited with You as I should. But I need help with Jane. Please help me to find the right words to explain about the testing. Please help me to understand what is happening with my daughter.
“What were you and Miss Coleman talking about?” Jane sat up, watching the landscape out the side window.
He took a deep, composing breath. “She wants to refer you for testing and I told her to go ahead.”
Jane twisted toward him. “Testing? What kind?”
“She thinks you’re struggling to read and that you might have a learning disability.”
“I’m not dumb!”
“She didn’t say that and I’m not, either. Your A in geometry proves that. But something’s going on, Jane. Don’t you want to find out what it is?”
“I’m not dumb!” Tears glistened in his daughter’s eyes.
Shaken by the sight of her tears, Samuel parked his car in his driveway. Jane rarely cried. He started to reach for her to comfort her, but she glared at him. Swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks, she shoved the door open, bolted from the car and ran toward the house.
He gripped the steering wheel and let his head sag until it touched the cold plastic. He hadn’t handled that well. Like everything else the past few years, he was fumbling to find the correct path. He felt as though he were lost in the desert, wandering around trying to find the promised land.
“I’m so glad you could come a little early.” Beth held open the door and stepped to the side to allow Jesse into her house.
“Am I imagining things or was that panic in your voice a little while ago?” Jesse asked, following her through the living room into the dining room.
“You know I don’t entertain much. I don’t even know why I decided to have this party. I’ve got the house clean. That was easy. But do I have enough food for everyone?” Beth gestured toward the table that could seat eight if the leaf was in it, which it was.
Jesse’s eyes grew round. “What color is the tablecloth? I can’t tell. You’ve got so much food on it.”
“Are you trying to tell me I overdid it?”
“How many people did you invite? The whole congregation plus the staff you work with?”
“I don’t want anyone going hungry.”
“Believe me, if they do, they have an eating disorder.”
Beth scanned the table laden with three cakes, two pies, several dozen cookies and brownies, vegetable and fruit trays with two different dips each, several kinds of small sandwiches without the crust, crackers and chips with assorted spreads and a cheese ball. “I had to put the drinks in the kitchen. I ran out of room.”
Jesse snatched up a carrot stick and took a bite. “So how many people are coming?”
“Besides you and Nick, Darcy and Joshua, there are the reverend, Tanya Bolton, Zoey Witherspoon, Paul Howard and Boswell.”
“Boswell? He didn’t say anything to me about coming.”
“I saw him at the grocery yesterday when I was buying some of the food and thought he might enjoy coming. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, especially since Nate and Cindy are over at Gramps and Susan’s. I’m glad Boswell’s getting out. I’ve felt guilty about uprooting him from Chicago. He promises me that he doesn’t mind living in Sweetwater, but I’m not sure I believe him.” Jesse popped a potato chip into her mouth. “What do you want me to help you with?”
Beth twirled. “Do I look all right?”
“Why, Beth Coleman, I’ve never known you to care too much about how you look.”
Regretting that she had given in to her panic and called Jesse for advice, Beth started toward the kitchen. She realized she was plain, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care about how she appeared to others. Come on, Beth, don’t you really mean Samuel Morgan?
“You can wipe that smug smile off your face, Jesse. I just didn’t want to be overdressed.”
Jesse stopped Beth’s progress with a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be serious. Turn around.”
Beth faced her friend, her hands on her waist, now hoping she could pull off an “I don’t care” attitude.
With a finger against her chin, Jesse studied her. “Black jeans with a cream silk blouse. Not bad. New blouse?”
The heat of a blush scored Beth’s cheeks. “Yes. I haven’t bought anything new in months.” And except for an occasional treat to herself for Christmas and her birthday, she purchased only the basic necessities she needed for school. While her siblings had been growing up, clothing had been expensive, not to mention later helping with their college tuition.
Holding up her hands, Jesse took a step back. “Stop right there. I’m glad you’re finally doing something for yourself and not just for your brothers and sister. It’s about time.” Her gaze skimmed the length of Beth once more. “Deep-six the tennis shoes. Heels would be better with what you have on.”
“Tennis shoes go with jeans.”
“But heels will look better with your blouse, which is soft and feminine. Don’t you have a black pair we got last year?”
“They’re awfully dressy. This is a casual party.”
Jesse flipped her hand in the air, dismissing Beth’s concerns. “You’ll be casually elegant.”
The sound of the doorbell cut through the sudden silence.
Beads of perspiration popped out on Beth’s upper lip. She didn’t give parties. Why had she come up with this way to kick off her new outlook on life? Bad, bad idea.
Jesse waved her toward her bedroom. “Go. I’ll get the door. I don’t want to see those tennis shoes.”
Wiping her hand across her upper lip, Beth hurried away, wondering if she could hide for at least an hour in her bedroom. She would have been fine with just Darcy, Joshua, Jesse and Nick. She could have convinced herself that this wasn’t a party she was responsible for, but the additional five people made a mockery out of that thought.
While rifling through the bottom of her closet for the box that held her black heels, she heard laughter coming from her living room and the doorbell chiming again. When she finally found the shoes, stuck way in the back, she examined them, unable to believe she had bought them. It was Jesse’s fault. She’d worn them only once—to Darcy’s wedding. Jesse had been with her when she had purchased them. In fact, Jesse had been the one who had insisted she buy them. On her own she never would have, and still couldn’t believe she’d let Jesse talk her into them. Beth held them up, still debating whether to wear the silk-and-leather heels. They were three inches high—two more than she usually wore—with long pointed toes and no back strap. They looked uncomfortable, but actually—much to her surprise