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“Shoes of peace,” she’d say. “Just like the name on the door, just like you. You make them with your own hands, with your heart.” Those words and the baskets filled with chicken soup, tea and vitamins always made me feel better. Stronger. Sometimes I forgot that Austin had married Mrs. Shapiro’s son. The girl couldn’t be all bad.

Sassysistah1: It’s hot outside, but soup sounds good. I’d come over there, but I’m too tired to drive.

Shalomsistah: Not a problem. I’m there.

Sassysistah1: Knock hard. I’ll probably be asleep.

Shalomsistah: Got it.

Sassysistah1: Wait! Do you remember where I live?

Shalomsistah is not signed on.

Hmm…Austin must have remembered the directions or she would have asked. I couldn’t muster the strength to get up and look for her number. I needed to go and dig my Bible out of the trash in the other room. Someone had actually dared to throw it away. Jordan maybe? I needed to fall on my face in prayer, but I didn’t. I pulled away from the computer to the creak of my bones.

The plan had been to come home from the hospital, change my clothes and rush right back, even though everyone advised against it. Especially Terri. I’m convinced she was stalking outside the hospital or something, but what did I know? Not much or I wouldn’t be trying to figure out how to be a single grandmother. As if being a single mother wasn’t job enough.

Shooting off a round of tangled prayers, I stretched my hands upward. Weariness poured down my legs, past my ankles and straight into my toes. With a thump, I dropped to the couch, the one that was just for decoration. It was time for that thing to earn its keep. As I sank back into it, my feet arched as if by their own will. I wiggled my toes, but it didn’t help. What I needed now was the foot washing I’d run from this morning.

Life is funny like that. What I try to outrun one minute, I needed the next. In truth, I could use a lot more from Tad than a soak in his kitty-litter container—a generous look or one of his steady prayers would do me just fine about now. Even when things had got bad after Shemika’s birth, the man hadn’t even flinched. He just stood there tall and strong, speaking loud and clear—

“We ask Lord, that this blood would stop, in the name of Jesus…”

When the room blurred into a rush of nurses and the smell of fear, there Tad was, rooted to the floor like a tree, his pecan skin glowing with sweat. The blood didn’t stop then, but the atmosphere did, and so did my attitude. This wasn’t my life all over again. No matter what happened, God was in control. Too bad Tad hadn’t been there the day I delivered Jericho. The outcome might have been the same, but maybe my heart wouldn’t have…

The doorbell sliced through my musings. I took a deep breath and hobbled for the door.

Behind it was Austin’s smiling face and two armfuls of low-carb goodies—almonds, teriyaki steak jerky, a veggie tray, some of Mrs. Shapiro’s chicken soup minus the matzo balls and a jug of diet V8 Splash. The tropical kind.

I hugged her inside. “Dana’s been telling you all my secrets, I see.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m just observant. It’s the reporter in me.”

We both laughed and put the spread on the table. She pulled two cold Diet Cokes from her purse and plopped onto the couch beside me. “We’ll get to that stuff later. Tell me about the birth.”

“It was something,” I said, sounding more like Jordan than I was comfortable with. My fingers gripped the cold drink while my lips refused to recount Moriah’s story. At least not yet. I looked back at the table, wondering which item would loosen my lips. Being on the receiving end of a girlfriend gift pack seemed strange. I’d been doing similar things for Dana and Tracey for years. I was used to it, being the one who gave, who smoothed things over. Having someone do it for me? Well, I didn’t know how to take it exactly. I sipped my pop anyway. Mine was vanilla, hers was lime.

It tasted wonderful. Much better than that bitter coffee, better than the story I had to tell. “This is good. And you got lime. Is it your favorite?”

Austin shook her head. “I don’t usually drink diet. This wasn’t about me though, so I just went along.” Her smile lit up the room like a candle.

“Sounds like a practice I should try.” I put my can on a coaster, suddenly deciding against my usual speech about being careful not to spill anything. If we made a mess, I could have it cleaned later. For once, I just didn’t care.

Austin took a coaster without being reminded and rested her can on it. She smiled at me, but made none of the usual chitchat or self-deprecating jokes that Dana provided. Not even any of Tracey’s goofy music and movie trivia that had nothing to do with anything. She just sat there sipping, ready to listen. This was a lot to get used to.

“Well, I’ll try and make this short,” I said.

“That’s your call. I’ve got four hours. The husband is fed, kissed and napping in front of ESPN. Pre-season games. He even has snackage. I left a note, but he’ll realize I’ve been gone after I walk back in the door.”

I made what must have been a horrible face. “Four hours? Please. I don’t talk to anybody that long. Not even God.”

Austin took another sip of her pop and curled her feet beneath her. “You’d be surprised.”

Five hours later, I was surprised…and full. I talked about everything from Jordan to the foot washing to the birth. I’d cried and eaten and cried some more. With Austin past due to be home, we were getting to the good part.

I stared at the clock in horror. “Oh my goodness. You need to go. I’m so sorry—”

She waved me off. “Double overtime. I called him in the bathroom. He thought I was in the other room on the computer. I will go soon, but we’re okay. What I need to know is, are you okay? You keep talking about everybody else and your concerns for them, but what about you? It’s okay to feel something just for yourself, you know.”

Was it okay? The thought stunned me. “Haven’t I been talking about me all this time?”

“No. You’ve been talking about your son, your granddaughter, your son’s father, Tad, the church…Before I go, I need to hear what’s really going on. With you.” She paused. “If you want to go there, that is.”

My defenses sprang up. My walls. How dare this little skinny blond girl come here and try to tell me to get real about something! What did she know about it?

A lot, from the look in her eyes. From the patient quietness she’d blessed me with the past few hours. No wonder Dana rambled on about her so much. She had a deep, just-what-you-need faith.

Sistah faith.

My true feelings quaked inside me, shook my shoulders. Before I knew it I was crying again and half shouting. “How could my baby have a baby now? What did I do wrong? I prayed, took him to church, went without a man. How could God let this happen?”