the apartment.
She glanced in the first bedroom, a twin bed against one wall and bookshelves lining the remainder of the room. A baseball comforter covered the bed, and a long blue pillow with Kaden embroidered in red centered the headboard made of baseball bats. “Oh, how cute!” she said, taking it all in. “I want to have a neat room for my girls, too. I need to start thinking about that.”
“Well, from what Mandy has told me, Kaden has an identical room to that one at their home. When she and Daniel married, they were going to move all of Kaden’s things to the new place, but then Mandy said she knew he’d be spending a lot of time here with her, especially in the summer when school is out, so she kept his room intact. She also converted one of her studio rooms downstairs into a room for Mia.”
“See, that’s the thing that would be great about being a teacher. I could have my summers off to spend with the girls,” Laura said. “I’ll look at the room she did for Mia later. Maybe I can get some ideas for my girls. I want their room to be special, like this one is for Kaden.”
“I’ve got some magazines at the bookstore that should help you out. I get several home design ones for the moms in town, some specifically for decorating children’s rooms.”
“That’d be great,” she said, but her tone wasn’t overly enthusiastic. Before David could ask why, she added, “Mandy said this apartment has two bedrooms. And I’m sure she won’t want me changing things, since this is obviously Kaden’s room.”
David understood. She wanted a special place for her girls, and she wouldn’t be able to decorate for them here, unless Mandy and Daniel allowed this to be something fairly permanent. David suspected they would offer, but he didn’t know if that’s what Laura wanted. “She has several studio rooms downstairs, and I don’t think she uses them all. She may let you change one of them.”
“Yeah,” she said, “but still, I hope that eventually I’ll have something more like—” she paused, swallowed “—a home.” Then she looked to David and shook her head. “I’m sure that sounded like I’m not grateful Mandy gave me this place to stay, or rather is going to let me rent it. I am going to pay rent.” She frowned. “I didn’t ask what you’d pay me at the bookstore, and anything will be fine—I promise—but you’d know more than I do.... Will I be able to afford the rent here?”
David wished he could pay her what a college graduate deserved, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to pay her at all. “I think Daniel and Mandy will give you a very reasonable rate.” Of that he was certain, and whatever that rate was, David would make sure he gave her enough hours and enough pay for her to live here. Somehow. And he didn’t want to worry about that anymore now. But the look on her face said she was uncertain, and she had enough on her plate without having to be concerned over how to pay her rent. “You’ll be able to pay it.” He smiled, and thankfully, she did, too.
“Well, let’s go see the other rooms.” She left Kaden’s room and continued past a small bathroom and into a larger bedroom. “Oh, this is so nice.”
David followed her into the room and placed the larger piece of luggage on the floor and her makeup bag on the dresser. The bed was an antique, beautifully carved and cloaked in a handmade quilt. Embroidered circular doilies decorated each nightstand with antique lamps in the center. Long, slender embroidered linen covered the dresser. And, looking a bit out of place amid the furnishings, a small flat-screen television topped a highboy chest of drawers. “You like it?”
Laura ran her hand along the bumpy quilt and smiled. “I love it. Granted, it may not be a permanent home for me and the babies, but it’s a beautiful place to start, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
Like the remainder of the apartment, the room had an abundance of photographs on the walls, all of these black-and-white images, some landscapes and additional family photos. Laura spotted a framed photo at one end of the dresser. She picked it up and studied the image of Mandy and Mia, the two girls hugging tightly and smiling from ear to ear. “They were really close, weren’t they?”
David blinked, nodded. “Yeah, they were.”
“I hope my girls are that close, too.” She kept looking at the picture, then glanced up at David, and her voice was barely above a whisper when she asked, “You loved Mia, didn’t you?”
He honestly couldn’t remember how much he’d shared with Laura that night at UT when he’d gotten the call that informed him Mia was gone. Maybe she already knew the answer. But even so, he wouldn’t lie to her about it. “I was pretty sure I loved her in high school, you know, young love and all of that. I thought I’d marry her,” he admitted. “But she was two years behind me in school, and when I left, she kept hanging around with all of our friends, and she and Jacob fell in love.” David thought it was important to add, “And I was happy for them. Maybe not at first, but after I saw how much they meant to each other, and how happy Mia was, I was happy for them.”
Laura’s head moved subtly, as though she were putting the pieces together. “So those first years at UT, when I met you and you were dating so much and partying so much, you were trying to get over her.”
It wasn’t a question, so David didn’t answer. There was no need. It was the truth. Except he wouldn’t add that he would’ve dated Laura if she’d have looked at him the way she looked at Jared.
“And then, when she died, that’s when you changed.” Her head nodded more certainly now, as though she had no doubt whatsoever in the truth of her statement. “You turned to your faith after you lost your friends. I remember that. No more partying, no more dating everyone on campus.”
David fought the impulse to tell her that the only girl he’d ever really wanted to date at UT was the one standing in this room. Instead, he said, “I realized I hadn’t had any peace without my faith. And when I needed something to hold on to, something real, that’s where I turned.”
“I remember that,” she said, placing the photo back on the dresser and turning toward David. “You found God, about the same time that I lost Him.”
Her mouth flattened, and David sensed the sadness in her admission. Back in college, every now and then, particularly when she was upset, he’d had intense conversations with Laura, the kind where you wonder if you said too much, opened up too much, showed your pain too much. Then he would hold her until she was okay. He moved toward her with the intention of holding her again, but she stepped back and shook her head.
“I’ll be okay,” she said. “It’s like that saying, if you find yourself farther from God, who moved?” She waited a beat and then whispered, “I did.”
In spite of all the tough conversations David had with Laura before, he’d never said anything about faith, or God. At the time, that wasn’t at the top of his priorities. Now, though, it was. “Laura, we have an amazing church here, full of people who understand God’s love and His grace. Why don’t you come with me Wednesday night for the midweek worship?”
The look she gave David resembled shock. Then she glanced down at her stomach and shook her head. “Trust me, I have no business in church right now.”
“Laura—” he began, but she cleared her throat.
“Please, David. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to get my things unpacked and relax awhile. It’s been a long day.”
David knew when a conversation had been ended, and this one was done, in spite of how important he felt it was for her to find her faith again, for her to find the peace that he’d found again. “Sure,” he said and turned to go, but he wasn’t giving up. He’d already determined several ways he hoped to help Laura. He wanted to help her support her babies until she was able to get a teaching job, and he’d do that—somehow—at the bookstore. And he wanted to help her find her faith and the peace he’d experienced again since he’d turned his life back over to God. In other words, David wanted to help her have the two things she needed most—a friend and a Savior.