he that ill?”
Allison shrugged, then shook her head. “Not that anyone told me. But pancreatitis is a serious condition. It could kill him.” Tears stung her eyes and her throat tightened. She fought both reactions.
“It’s okay to care about him, Allison.”
“I’m not sure I do care. I was crying in my dream, but I don’t think I was crying for him. Not really.” She drew in a deep breath. “Do you think God told me to let go of Tony because he is going to die?”
“Oh, Allison.”
“What if I didn’t hear God right about that either?” she whispered.
Susan shook her head. “No one can answer that question except you. And maybe you won’t be able to answer it for a long time. But I can tell you this: Feelings aren’t right or wrong. They’re just feelings. They just are . What matters is what you do in response to those feelings. Let God do His work in your heart, Allison. He will turn things to good in your life when you follow Him. Even divorce.”
Was that true? Allison swallowed the lump a second time. Please, Father. Do Your work in my heart. Forgive me for my own wrong choices. Turn this mess . . . turn all of these crazy, confusing emotions into good in my life . . . And please don’t let Tony die. Not yet. Not until he surrenders completely to You .
Allison
Ned Lyle’s sixty-fifth birthday party was held the following Saturday. Allison arrived at the Lyle home half an hour before the other guests, sheet cake in hand. While Susan put the last-minute touches on the meal she’d made, Allison stuck candles into the cake. One for every year of the birthday boy’s life, plus a couple dozen more for good measure. Several of them were the kind of candles that couldn’t be blown out.
“Mean, aren’t we?” Susan said softly from the opposite side of the counter.
“Deliciously wicked,” Allison confirmed with a laugh.
“What are you two up to?” Ned stepped through the doorway to the dining room.
Allison turned around and stationed her body between him and the cake. “You were told not to come into the kitchen.”
“Like I was going to obey that command.”
Chet Leonard appeared in the doorway behind Ned. “Need help?”
Ned nodded. “Probably.”
“I meant the ladies.”
“Traitor,” Ned said with a grin. Then he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right. I’m going. I’m going.”
After Ned left the kitchen, Chet said, “I meant it. Need any help from me?”
“Nothing I can think of,” Susan answered. “Allison?”
“Nope. The candles are all in place. But maybe we should put the volunteer fire department on alert. We’re going to have quite the blaze when these are all lit.” Allison closed the lid on the empty box that the sheet cake had come in from the grocery store, then looked at Chet again. “Try to keep Ned from peeking until it’s time for dessert.”
Chet winked. “You got it.”
Chet hadn’t been gone more than a minute when his wife, Marsha, came through the same doorway.
“Chet says you don’t need help, but I thought I should check.”
Washing her hands in the sink, Susan looked over her shoulder. “It’s all ready. As soon as everyone’s here, we can eat.”
“There’s quite the crowd outside,” Marsha responded.
Susan dried her hands on a towel. “I’ll do a quick headcount.” She left the kitchen.
Marsha pretended to count the candles on the cake. “Oh my.”
Allison laughed.
“Susan’s always been the mischievous one.”
“That’s what I’ve discovered.” Allison sat on a nearby barstool.
Marsha leaned her hip against the counter. “You seem to have settled in well.”
“I think so. I like living here more than I thought I would.”
“I hope you don’t get cabin fever in the winter. I do. There’s times every winter when I’d give just about anything to move to a warmer climate where there aren’t icy roads and too much snow to shovel. But it would take a cannon to blast Chet out of
Allison shrugged, then shook her head. “Not that anyone told me. But pancreatitis is a serious condition. It could kill him.” Tears stung her eyes and her throat tightened. She fought both reactions.
“It’s okay to care about him, Allison.”
“I’m not sure I do care. I was crying in my dream, but I don’t think I was crying for him. Not really.” She drew in a deep breath. “Do you think God told me to let go of Tony because he is going to die?”
“Oh, Allison.”
“What if I didn’t hear God right about that either?” she whispered.
Susan shook her head. “No one can answer that question except you. And maybe you won’t be able to answer it for a long time. But I can tell you this: Feelings aren’t right or wrong. They’re just feelings. They just are . What matters is what you do in response to those feelings. Let God do His work in your heart, Allison. He will turn things to good in your life when you follow Him. Even divorce.”
Was that true? Allison swallowed the lump a second time. Please, Father. Do Your work in my heart. Forgive me for my own wrong choices. Turn this mess . . . turn all of these crazy, confusing emotions into good in my life . . . And please don’t let Tony die. Not yet. Not until he surrenders completely to You .
Allison
Ned Lyle’s sixty-fifth birthday party was held the following Saturday. Allison arrived at the Lyle home half an hour before the other guests, sheet cake in hand. While Susan put the last-minute touches on the meal she’d made, Allison stuck candles into the cake. One for every year of the birthday boy’s life, plus a couple dozen more for good measure. Several of them were the kind of candles that couldn’t be blown out.
“Mean, aren’t we?” Susan said softly from the opposite side of the counter.
“Deliciously wicked,” Allison confirmed with a laugh.
“What are you two up to?” Ned stepped through the doorway to the dining room.
Allison turned around and stationed her body between him and the cake. “You were told not to come into the kitchen.”
“Like I was going to obey that command.”
Chet Leonard appeared in the doorway behind Ned. “Need help?”
Ned nodded. “Probably.”
“I meant the ladies.”
“Traitor,” Ned said with a grin. Then he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right. I’m going. I’m going.”
After Ned left the kitchen, Chet said, “I meant it. Need any help from me?”
“Nothing I can think of,” Susan answered. “Allison?”
“Nope. The candles are all in place. But maybe we should put the volunteer fire department on alert. We’re going to have quite the blaze when these are all lit.” Allison closed the lid on the empty box that the sheet cake had come in from the grocery store, then looked at Chet again. “Try to keep Ned from peeking until it’s time for dessert.”
Chet winked. “You got it.”
Chet hadn’t been gone more than a minute when his wife, Marsha, came through the same doorway.
“Chet says you don’t need help, but I thought I should check.”
Washing her hands in the sink, Susan looked over her shoulder. “It’s all ready. As soon as everyone’s here, we can eat.”
“There’s quite the crowd outside,” Marsha responded.
Susan dried her hands on a towel. “I’ll do a quick headcount.” She left the kitchen.
Marsha pretended to count the candles on the cake. “Oh my.”
Allison laughed.
“Susan’s always been the mischievous one.”
“That’s what I’ve discovered.” Allison sat on a nearby barstool.
Marsha leaned her hip against the counter. “You seem to have settled in well.”
“I think so. I like living here more than I thought I would.”
“I hope you don’t get cabin fever in the winter. I do. There’s times every winter when I’d give just about anything to move to a warmer climate where there aren’t icy roads and too much snow to shovel. But it would take a cannon to blast Chet out of
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