narthex.
"Beautiful morning, isn't it, ladies?" Pastor took Layla's hand but included her sister in his smile.
"Very much so." Layla nodded. Maybe with the clearing of the weather, Taylor Construction would get more work. She withdrew her hand and took a step away.
"Heard about that body found in your burned house." His words stopped her. "Just tragic."
Layla squared her shoulders. "It is a tragedy."
"Have the police identified the body yet?"
"Not that I'm aware of." She hitched her purse strap higher on her shoulder. She hated the thing, wouldn't carry one even to church if Alana wasn't so insistent.
Pastor clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Heard some of the residents at Second Chances might be involved." He looked over Layla's shoulder as one of the church elders touched the back of his hand.
Layla turned slightly, just enough to catch the paleness of her sister's face. "I don't think the police believe that. At least not that they've indicated to us."
"Well, I'm praying for a quick resolution." He laid a hand on Alana's shoulder.
"Thank you," Alana whispered. "Good sermon."
"Pastor," the elder interrupted, "both bathrooms have sprung leaks."
"Again?" Pastor sighed, then smiled at Layla and Alana. "Please excuse me."
Layla took hold of her sister's hand and pulled her out into the sunny but crisp morning. "How about a late brunch at the diner?"
Alana frowned as they spilled into the parking lot with the rest of the congregation. "I'm going to see Mom today. Why don't you come with me?"
Little shards of old wounds sliced down Layla's spine. "I don't think so."
"Layla, come on. Don't you think it's time?"
That one thing twisted her emotions into tight knots, and she couldn't make her sister understand. "I'm not ready." Did they always have to have the exact same conversation whenever their mother was brought up?
Alana worried her bottom lip and stopped between their vehicles. "You always say that. It's been years. Time to move on. A new year and all that."
If only Layla could. But the bitterness . . . the resentment . . . wouldn't let her. "Not yet." And she didn't know if she ever could.
She didn't know if she wanted to.
"Scripture tells us to forgive, you know." Alana dug in her purse for her keys.
"Don't start quoting Scripture to me, Al. I'm well aware of what the Bible says." She knew she sounded like a petulant child, but Layla didn't care. She was sick and tired of having the same point drilled into her head, over and over again.
Alana held her keys and stared into Layla's face. "Then why won't you visit Mom with me? Dad forgave her. I've forgiven her. It's only eating at you because you won't."
"I can't." The words nearly strangled her. "We've been over this. I just can't."
Alana tilted her head, held Layla's stare for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. "One day you'll have to come to terms with Mom and the past. You won't be able to move forward until you do."
Maybe . . . maybe not. She seemed to be just fine without coming to terms with anything. Unless Alana brought her up, Layla never even thought about their mother. What did that say about her as a person?
"Besides, I have to practice this afternoon." She needed to change the subject. "Uh, have you heard from Cameron? When is he supposed to be back in town?"
"Tomorrow." Alana leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Layla's cheek. "I'll call you tonight."
Layla nodded and watched her sister slip into her Jeep and pull out of the church parking lot. She gave a little wave before getting behind the wheel of her truck.
Alana was too good, unlike Layla. She could forgive their mother for her abuse . . . her neglect . . . ripping their family apart. But Layla couldn't. Not when Roseanna Taylor had made the choice to destroy herself and her family. Layla could remember everything—Alana's memories were jaded.
Shielding her sister, Layla had stepped in where their mother failed, striving to never let Alana endure the neglect
"Beautiful morning, isn't it, ladies?" Pastor took Layla's hand but included her sister in his smile.
"Very much so." Layla nodded. Maybe with the clearing of the weather, Taylor Construction would get more work. She withdrew her hand and took a step away.
"Heard about that body found in your burned house." His words stopped her. "Just tragic."
Layla squared her shoulders. "It is a tragedy."
"Have the police identified the body yet?"
"Not that I'm aware of." She hitched her purse strap higher on her shoulder. She hated the thing, wouldn't carry one even to church if Alana wasn't so insistent.
Pastor clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Heard some of the residents at Second Chances might be involved." He looked over Layla's shoulder as one of the church elders touched the back of his hand.
Layla turned slightly, just enough to catch the paleness of her sister's face. "I don't think the police believe that. At least not that they've indicated to us."
"Well, I'm praying for a quick resolution." He laid a hand on Alana's shoulder.
"Thank you," Alana whispered. "Good sermon."
"Pastor," the elder interrupted, "both bathrooms have sprung leaks."
"Again?" Pastor sighed, then smiled at Layla and Alana. "Please excuse me."
Layla took hold of her sister's hand and pulled her out into the sunny but crisp morning. "How about a late brunch at the diner?"
Alana frowned as they spilled into the parking lot with the rest of the congregation. "I'm going to see Mom today. Why don't you come with me?"
Little shards of old wounds sliced down Layla's spine. "I don't think so."
"Layla, come on. Don't you think it's time?"
That one thing twisted her emotions into tight knots, and she couldn't make her sister understand. "I'm not ready." Did they always have to have the exact same conversation whenever their mother was brought up?
Alana worried her bottom lip and stopped between their vehicles. "You always say that. It's been years. Time to move on. A new year and all that."
If only Layla could. But the bitterness . . . the resentment . . . wouldn't let her. "Not yet." And she didn't know if she ever could.
She didn't know if she wanted to.
"Scripture tells us to forgive, you know." Alana dug in her purse for her keys.
"Don't start quoting Scripture to me, Al. I'm well aware of what the Bible says." She knew she sounded like a petulant child, but Layla didn't care. She was sick and tired of having the same point drilled into her head, over and over again.
Alana held her keys and stared into Layla's face. "Then why won't you visit Mom with me? Dad forgave her. I've forgiven her. It's only eating at you because you won't."
"I can't." The words nearly strangled her. "We've been over this. I just can't."
Alana tilted her head, held Layla's stare for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. "One day you'll have to come to terms with Mom and the past. You won't be able to move forward until you do."
Maybe . . . maybe not. She seemed to be just fine without coming to terms with anything. Unless Alana brought her up, Layla never even thought about their mother. What did that say about her as a person?
"Besides, I have to practice this afternoon." She needed to change the subject. "Uh, have you heard from Cameron? When is he supposed to be back in town?"
"Tomorrow." Alana leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Layla's cheek. "I'll call you tonight."
Layla nodded and watched her sister slip into her Jeep and pull out of the church parking lot. She gave a little wave before getting behind the wheel of her truck.
Alana was too good, unlike Layla. She could forgive their mother for her abuse . . . her neglect . . . ripping their family apart. But Layla couldn't. Not when Roseanna Taylor had made the choice to destroy herself and her family. Layla could remember everything—Alana's memories were jaded.
Shielding her sister, Layla had stepped in where their mother failed, striving to never let Alana endure the neglect
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