“Why wouldn’t you?” her sister asked. “People know that you love God, and they know you are married. Surely you can do both kinds of music still.”
“But what if people think I’ve crossed over to the dark side?”
“Then they’re judgmental. You can sing songs about love and relationships that don’t have to just be about God.”
“So you think it’s a good idea?”
“I think if you turned it down, you’d regret it.”
Sarah nodded. The project would keep her busy, especially after the Heartsong tour. Hmm. Maybe she could even use some of the income to support the Musko-cheer project. People might be more inclined to want to support it if there was a good cause attached to it. Something to think about, anyway. She yawned, as another wave of tiredness washed over her. “I just don’t want to overcommit myself.”
“Sar, you’ll manage.”
“It’s just I feel so tired all the time.”
“Still?”
“Yeah. I honestly think I must’ve picked up a virus somehow. It’s been like this for weeks. Yesterday morning I nearly threw up when I visited Ange’s and smelled the coffee.”
Rebekah was silent for a long moment. “Sar, have you thought about what you’ve just said?”
“What?”
“The symptoms you’ve described?”
“Symptoms?” What on earth was she talking about?
“Sar, how long since your last period?”
“I was bleeding just last week.”
“Oh. I thought—”
“No.” Her heart cramped. “My periods have never been regular since the accident, but even I know you can’t bleed and then be pregnant when you haven’t, ah, had the opportunity to.”
And she’d really thought she might. Sam’s prayer, and that heat that suggested healing, along with something stubborn within still insisted that she could be. One day. But obviously not right now.
“You know we’re all praying for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I wish I could give you good news, but it’s just tiredness.”
“Well, you take care of yourself, okay?”
“Yes, Bek.” She yawned. “I better go make somebody’s dinner.”
“Happy reunion-ing.”
Hmph. The way she was feeling, Dan would be happier without her.
CHAPTER16
The scent of sizzling garlic wafted through the cottage. “Hey, hon. Something smells good.”
Sarah wasn’t in the kitchen, yet the pan was still spitting. He turned off the stove. “Sar?”
He went upstairs. Nope. No sign of her. Then he heard the downstairs toilet flush. He hurried down the stairs as she opened the door. “Hey, are you okay?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I feel gross. Happy that you’re back, though.”
