“That’s right. Your mom raised Valerie.”
His head moved back and forth on her lap as he shook it. “No, her uncle Buddy raised her. Mama had her during the day with us. She and Buddy lived in the cottage down that path there.” He pointed then closed his eyes as if completely relaxed. “She moved out right before your dad came to our church.”
Daisy thought of the close relationship Brad and Valerie obviously shared. She wondered if spending so many of their formative years together contributed to that.
“The sermon today really resonated with me. As I sat next to you on that pew, it occurred to me that this was the first sermon I’ve heard since I found out I was pregnant. I think I’ve had a bit of a Jonah experience as I have volunteered to work with the children or nursery service at my church for the last six or seven weeks.”
Ken opened his eyes and looked up at her. His eyes had shifted to a shade of blue-gray in the afternoon sunlight. “Why?”
She pursed her lips and thought about it. “I think because I hadn’t quite accepted that I was really forgiven because I had a physical manifestation of my sin. And I don’t mean that against the baby at all. I just mean it’s not something I’ll be able to hide. It’s not something I was able to identify that I had done, come to God in private and seek forgiveness and repent, and then be forgiven and walk away like it was some secret, private dealing in a back room. No matter how forgiven I am, in a few short months, it will all come out.”
With graceful movements, Ken sat up and shifted his body to turn and face her. He slipped his arm across the back of the bench so he could put a hand on her shoulder. “And?”
“And facing judgment is nothing I’ve ever been good at.” She didn’t feel emotional, and it occurred to her that she truly heard the sermon’s point today. “But I can take it and get through it. It’s not like they’ll actually take me outside and stone me these days. That’s what the cross was for, right?”
He stared at her for several moments, his eyes serious, his expression focused. Finally, he asked, “You’re okay?”
She smiled. “I am okay.”
He tilted his head, studied her face, and finally said, “Good. I’m glad.”
He lay back down, and she continued to run her fingers through his hair. Finally, he said, “Jon and Alex are getting married.”
Daisy’s heart gave a jealous little tug at the news. “Really? When?”
“Two weeks. A week from Saturday.”
“I look forward to meeting her.”
“You will today, I hope.” He reached up and wound a strand of her hair with his finger. “How was the Quinceañera?”
He butchered the pronunciation, so she corrected him, and he said it again, this time properly. “It was a beautiful party,” she said. “My parents were slightly emotional and acting a little weird, but if anyone picked up on it, they didn’t ask me about it.”
“Do you think it will end up being okay with them?”
“I really do.” She rested her hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under her hand. “They just need to sort it out. We called my brother on the way down to Columbus. He was less overwhelmed at the beginning of the conversation than my parents were.”
“Well, he’s our age. Different perspective.”
“True.”
He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her wrist. The feeling of the touch raced through her arm and sent her pulse rate skittering. She watched the koi jump in the pond again and thought that if she could just sit like this for the rest of her life, she’d die in perfect contentment.
Ashe stirred the tomato sauce into the aromatics on the stove, Ken looked over at Daisy. She propped her chin in her hand and watched him cook with confidence. “I’ve never seen anchovies as the base of a sauce before,” she remarked.
He winked at her. “Trust me. Briny, salty, garlicky.” He kissed his fingertips. “They build the best sauces.” He slid the bass fillets into the pan and put a lid on the skillet. Daisy resumed chopping the cucumber for the salad as he stirred couscous into boiling water.
The ease with which they made this meal in her kitchen filled her with a sense of security. She’d told him, and he was still here. What did that mean? Dare she hope for a future with him?
Everything her little fifteen-year-old heart had longed for had started coming true. Except for one thing.
Ken put the lid on the couscous and walked over to her. She sat across the bar from him, perched on a stool. Ken had hooked up his phone to her Bluetooth speakers, and a popular song from the eighties played quietly in the background. He slid the salad bowl into the center of the bar and filled it with the contents of a bag of rinsed lettuce.
“How’s the house coming along?” she asked.
He rolled the top of the bag closed and put it in the fridge. “Steady. Drywall’s up in the first floor. Working on the second floor. Lot’s to do.” He grinned a sheepish grin. “I’d get more done if I didn’t enjoy being with you so much.”
“So, it’s my fault,” she chuckled. “Good to know.”
