Free Pastor's Assignment by Kim O'Brien Page A

have any black silk?” Mother Tilly called from the closet.
    â€œNo, Mother Tilly,” she replied. In fact, she didn’t own many dressy clothes at all. She loved gauzy, light skirts of bright colors, knit tops, and oversized cotton shirts. She fervently hoped Tilly wouldn’t uncover one of the bridesmaid’s dresses she had stuffed in the back of her closet.
    She didn’t want to go back inside her apartment. Not with Mother Tilly finding fault with every garment of clothing she owned. Strangely, she didn’t feel like spending time with Rock either. She felt like staring up at the night sky and trying to figure out why her life suddenly felt so out of control.
    â€œI think I’ve found something.”
    Laney cringed. She had the awful feeling Mother Tilly had just discovered the crimson taffeta dress she’d worn at Richard’s wedding.
    Her fears were confirmed the minute she stepped back into the bedroom. “Here, dear,” Tilly said. “This will go well with the lavaliere.”
    Laney shook her head. “I appreciate your help, Mother Tilly, but I think I’ll just keep what I have on.”
    Holding the dress up to her, Tilly smiled coaxingly. “Come on, dear. Rock will be so pleased to see you looking so nice.”
    Shaking her head, Laney took a step backward. “I don’t think so. Maybe another time.”
    â€œLaney, as Rock’s wife, you’re going to have to get used to wearing formal clothing. Some day he could be the mayor, you know, or even a senator.”
    â€œWhen the time comes,” Laney said, “I’ll deal with it.” She was having trouble breathing again and glanced longingly at the open sliders that led to her deck.
    â€œHumor me, Laney,” Mother Tilly pressed. “Wear the dress.”
    Laney felt the color drain from her face. First it would be wear this dress, and then it would be cut her hair and change her makeup. She saw her life as a series of compromises she would make until she was completely unrecognizable to herself.
    â€œI’m not wearing the dress,” Laney heard herself say loudly. “And you can’t make me.”
    Tilly wiggled her eyebrows at her the way Rock did when she displeased him. And as usual it sent a rush of irritation through her. As if she were standing outside her body, Laney watched herself take the dress from Tilly and rip it down the middle.
    â€œI’m not wearing the dress.”
    Eyes bulging, Mother Tilly clutched the Weyeth lavaliere to her breast. A small sound of distress squeezed through her throat like air released from the pinched neck of a balloon.
    Suddenly there was a knock on the door. “You girls okay in there?” Rock’s voice rang with worry.
    â€œWe’re fine,” Laney shouted back.
    â€œYou sure?” Rock prodded. “I heard something tear.” There was a slight hesitancy, and then Rock chuckled. “Mother, you okay?”
    â€œI’m fine,” Tilly called back in a strained voice. Her gaze fixed on the dress, which lay on the floor in a torn heap.
    â€œPerhaps you were right, dear,” she said. “Trying out the Weyeth lavaliere is best left for another day.”
    Laney smoothed her damp hair. What had gotten into her? Already she regretted her action. “Good idea, Mother Tilly,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
    â€œI’d better go check my beef bourguignon,” Tilly said. “Rock will be disappointed if it burns. It’s his favorite, you know.”
    â§
    Afterward Laney couldn’t quite remember how she had gotten through the evening. Trying to make up for her inexplicably bad behavior, she’d done her best to follow Tilly’s instructions. Her nerves were jumpy, though, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t concentrate. She forgot to put the lid on the blender, and as a result, Rock’s fruit