Free The Beach House by Sally John Page B

him.”
    “He’s probably on call twenty-four hours a day?”
    “And then some. Neither one of us was very well balanced.”
    “Past tense?”
    “Some days.” Molly smiled.
    “How’d you get to ‘some days?’”
    “I went on strike. Except for Hannah and myself, I didn’t cook, clean, or do laundry. The rest of them lived on hot dogs and cereal and wore dirty clothes. I didn’t remind anyone of schedules; I didn’t keep track of homework or personal items. Eli was late for school twice. Betsy missed a clarinet lesson and failed a spelling test. Abigail forgot about soccer practice and had to sit out most of a game. Scott lost his Bible and sermon notes. That was one interesting sermon, by the way, completely off the cuff. Lots of rustling in the pews that day.”
    Jo doubled over in laughter. “They must have been begging you to come back. How long did this last?”
    “A week.”
    “And did it work?”
    Molly tilted her head from one shoulder to the other. “It helped, but now I feel so guilty. I keep wanting to call home and check in on them. It’s like needing a fix.”
    “Oh, Moll.”
    “The good news is I started substitute teaching. I gave up running the Sunday school. I gave up my little job of after-school care for three other kids. I’ve given my four more responsibility. Scotty pitches in at home and tells me it’s okay to whine like some angst-ridden adolescent trying to find herself.” She paused. “The bad news is he feels he’s not giving a hundred percent as a pastor. And on the days I sub, home life is absolute chaos. I can’t imagine teaching full-time, which is what I want to do.”
    “The chaos probably adds to your guilt.”
    “Yeah. I didn’t even want to make this trip. I keep slipping into the old role, thinking the real ‘Molly’ should wear Superwoman’s cape. I forget it’s Christ who fulfills me, not what I do.”
    Although the sun remained hidden, a brightness had begun to dispel the mist. Jo slipped on her sunglasses, not quite fast enough to hide a flicker of her eye.
    Molly sensed she was losing a connection with her. She took a deep breath. That was the other thing that separated them: While her faith had deepened through the years, Jo had grown indifferent to spiritual things. It had begun in their college days.
    Lord, give me the right words. Give her ears to hear
.
    Molly said, “I don’t mean to preach.”
    “It just sounds so flippant. ‘Christ fulfills me. He will take care of everything.’ But how?”
    How to explain such an intangible? Molly reached into their common past.
    “Jo, what do you remember from church? From when we were little?”
    She pondered the question for a moment. “Candles, incense, and incomprehensible jargon. Endless words. Words, words, words. Words so familiar we rattled them off without thought.”
    “They were Scripture, hon. And based on Scripture. They were alive, straight from a world we can’t see but the one where God moves, where He answers prayer.”
    “I keep looking for something a little more concrete.”
    “They’re kind of like…” She paused and lowered her voice to radio announcer depth. “The List.”
    Jo’s quick smile was wistful. “Grandmère Babette. What would we have ever done without Andie’s grandma and her list?”
    “Hopelessly floundered. Remember why she gave it to us? It’s not a list of dos and don’ts. She said if we took those words to heart and followed them the best we could, they would make a difference. They would help us grow into confident women.”
    “I remember.”
    “God says the same thing. It’s not about dos and don’ts but about His words infused with power and changing us from the inside out.”
    Jo turned toward the ocean.
    Molly knew the can of worms had indeed been opened. Now she could almost hear the contents being dumped into a Tupperware container, preserved for another time. She changed the subject. “So what was your favorite item on the List?”
    Jo