to be passed on? If he’d thought that, maybe that was what Talie should do too.
So she shrugged again and stirred her coffee some more. “I’ll get to the family tree one of these days.”
Maybe Cosima’s story wasn’t true anyway. There might be a way to find out about all those deaths on the same day if she saw actual Irish records or death certificates from 1848. Though how she would go about doing that, Talie had no idea.
True or not, maybe she should get rid of the journal. That past was better off forgotten. She wished her father had gotten rid of it instead of stashing it away.
“You know, I took some stuff from the attic too,” Dana said. “I found a few things I’m going to hang on my wall. A basket lid with a bunch of old buttons sewn on, a clock that I think I can have fixed, and some other things I might put in a shadow box. Mom said it was all from Dad’s side of the family too.”
“That’s nice.” Talie took her dishes to the sink, determined to leave the topic behind. That and her irritable mood. She turned on the water. “Remember I asked about you joining our church, Dana? Our midweek service bulletin had a note about a singles event tonight. Maybe you should go.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Luke, shifting the baby to a spot on his shoulders. Ben slumped forward over Luke’s head but was always happy up there. Luke stood, finally finished with his coffee.
“Talie wasn’t very specific about the group,” Dana said without much apparent interest. “Let me guess—I suppose there are nine women and two men?”
“Actually we’ve heard it’s a popular group,” Luke said. “People from all different churches in the area attend their social events.”
“I might try it out,” Dana said, but her tone couldn’t convince Talie that her sister was serious.
A few moments later, Luke finally walked from the kitchen to bathe and dress Ben.
Talie left the sink. She reclaimed her seat at the table across from Dana, who had barely finished half of her plateful of food. “Okay, spill it.”
Dana raised what looked like convincingly innocent, confused eyes. “Spill what? You want me to mess up your kitchen?”
“No, you know what I mean. Look at that plate.”
Dana did. “So?”
“Where’s your appetite? You’re only a picky eater when you meet somebody. So tell me, is he an architect or what?”
But Dana was shaking her head again. “No, no, no, Talie. I—”
Talie put up a palm. “You can skip the denial. Your plate and puffy eyes say it all. What’s his name?”
Dana let out a breath. Victory for Talie, and it wasn’t even much of a battle. “Okay, it’s Aidan Walker, but he’s all wrong for me.”
Talie’s hopes rose and sunk in that single statement. “He’s not a Christian?” That was the only real line they’d ever drawn when it came to dating; beyond that, things usually fell into place.
“He says he is, but he’s Melody’s new cousin-in-law. Her husband says Aidan only goes to church to scope out the women. And he hit on me the first chance he got.”
“Hit on you? How? You wouldn’t be losing your appetite if he hit on you in the classic sense. You’d have written him off right away.”
Dana shook her head. “That’s just it. Melody warned me he’s a womanizer, and she put a virtual protection squad around me as part of the wedding plan, just to keep me out of his sights. But then when we danced and he asked me out—right on cue, I thought at the time—I told him I wasn’t a casual Christian or a casual dater, and he said something I can’t really get out of my mind.”
“What was that?”
“Okay, but first let me tell you he is an architect. He was working out of the country for the last four months. He said while he was gone he grew up—in faith. That he has a clean slate and not Melody or Jeff or even me could take away what Christ gave him.”
“And he sounded sincere?”
Dana nodded.
“Okay . . .”
“But he was
So she shrugged again and stirred her coffee some more. “I’ll get to the family tree one of these days.”
Maybe Cosima’s story wasn’t true anyway. There might be a way to find out about all those deaths on the same day if she saw actual Irish records or death certificates from 1848. Though how she would go about doing that, Talie had no idea.
True or not, maybe she should get rid of the journal. That past was better off forgotten. She wished her father had gotten rid of it instead of stashing it away.
“You know, I took some stuff from the attic too,” Dana said. “I found a few things I’m going to hang on my wall. A basket lid with a bunch of old buttons sewn on, a clock that I think I can have fixed, and some other things I might put in a shadow box. Mom said it was all from Dad’s side of the family too.”
“That’s nice.” Talie took her dishes to the sink, determined to leave the topic behind. That and her irritable mood. She turned on the water. “Remember I asked about you joining our church, Dana? Our midweek service bulletin had a note about a singles event tonight. Maybe you should go.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Luke, shifting the baby to a spot on his shoulders. Ben slumped forward over Luke’s head but was always happy up there. Luke stood, finally finished with his coffee.
“Talie wasn’t very specific about the group,” Dana said without much apparent interest. “Let me guess—I suppose there are nine women and two men?”
“Actually we’ve heard it’s a popular group,” Luke said. “People from all different churches in the area attend their social events.”
“I might try it out,” Dana said, but her tone couldn’t convince Talie that her sister was serious.
A few moments later, Luke finally walked from the kitchen to bathe and dress Ben.
Talie left the sink. She reclaimed her seat at the table across from Dana, who had barely finished half of her plateful of food. “Okay, spill it.”
Dana raised what looked like convincingly innocent, confused eyes. “Spill what? You want me to mess up your kitchen?”
“No, you know what I mean. Look at that plate.”
Dana did. “So?”
“Where’s your appetite? You’re only a picky eater when you meet somebody. So tell me, is he an architect or what?”
But Dana was shaking her head again. “No, no, no, Talie. I—”
Talie put up a palm. “You can skip the denial. Your plate and puffy eyes say it all. What’s his name?”
Dana let out a breath. Victory for Talie, and it wasn’t even much of a battle. “Okay, it’s Aidan Walker, but he’s all wrong for me.”
Talie’s hopes rose and sunk in that single statement. “He’s not a Christian?” That was the only real line they’d ever drawn when it came to dating; beyond that, things usually fell into place.
“He says he is, but he’s Melody’s new cousin-in-law. Her husband says Aidan only goes to church to scope out the women. And he hit on me the first chance he got.”
“Hit on you? How? You wouldn’t be losing your appetite if he hit on you in the classic sense. You’d have written him off right away.”
Dana shook her head. “That’s just it. Melody warned me he’s a womanizer, and she put a virtual protection squad around me as part of the wedding plan, just to keep me out of his sights. But then when we danced and he asked me out—right on cue, I thought at the time—I told him I wasn’t a casual Christian or a casual dater, and he said something I can’t really get out of my mind.”
“What was that?”
“Okay, but first let me tell you he is an architect. He was working out of the country for the last four months. He said while he was gone he grew up—in faith. That he has a clean slate and not Melody or Jeff or even me could take away what Christ gave him.”
“And he sounded sincere?”
Dana nodded.
“Okay . . .”
“But he was
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