Free Just to See You Smile by Sally John Page A

those games shouldn’t be our toughest.” She slapped a hand against her own thigh. “If you’re sure it’s not basketball, then what’s up?”
    What was up was Britte, pumped as usual after a game. Anne smiled. Did the community know the treasure they had in this young woman, tucked away in her high school role, growing gracefully into the big shoes of her Great-Aunt Mabel? “You are perceptive, my dear.”
    â€œNot really. You just didn’t complain once to the refs, and you let me run poor Whitney ragged.”
    â€œAlec’s job is what’s up. He didn’t get a promotion we assumed would be automatic.” She explained the situation.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œThanks. It’s a major bruise to his ego, no matter how much they downplay it and blame the economy or politics.”
    â€œAlec is so likable. And he’s always struck me as solid in his faith. He’s not going to go wacko on us, is he?”
    â€œYou mean, pull a Kevin Massey on us?”
    â€œYeah, that type of thing. He’s too young for a midlife crisis. Too centered.”
    Anne thought of Alec’s demeanor that morning. Centered? Solid in his faith? She pulled her winter jacket more tightly about her shoulders.
    â€œAnne?”
    â€œNo, he won’t pull a—” She paused. Wasn’t it time to admit that her peachy view of Christian marriages smacked of fantasyland? “The fact is, I can’t say he won’t anything. He’s shook up, but God is faithful. God will see us through this.”
    Britte grasped her hand and squeezed it. “I will pray for you.”
    Anne nodded. Yes, please pray.

Nine
    Britte clasped her hands atop her head as she stood on a braided rug in the center of what used to be her bedroom. Her mother had long ago removed the posters and painted white over the hideous royal blue Britte had favored as a faithful Viking. The furnishings, which she had furtively spray-painted gold one spring day when she was 12, had also been restored to their original white. Still, the room resonated with memories of a happy childhood.
    Gina lounged on the white chenille bedspread, flipping through a bridal magazine. Winter sunlight streamed through windows behind her, glistening in her brown hair. Barb, Britte’s mother, knelt on the rug, running a tape measure down her leg.
    â€œGina,” Britte said, “please tell me this dress has a turtleneck. You could have made ice cubes in the church this morning!”
    Gina laughed. “Sorry. No turtleneck.”
    Barb stood and dangled the tape measure around her neck. “You do have the longest legs, honey, just like your dad’s.” She wrote numbers on a pad. “Take off that sweatshirt. I can’t measure accurately around that thing.”
    Britte complied. “Mom, since you’re making the dress, you can add a turtleneck! Tell Gina I look absolutely pathetic in low cut, off-the-shoulder, fancy-schmantzy dresses.”
    â€œYou don’t look pathetic in—”
    â€œBut I do! Pull out the old prom photos. Gina, you’ll notice that my sister’s prom photos are displayed in thefamily room. Both of my brothers’ prom photos are displayed. Mine are stuck somewhere in a drawer.”
    Barb pulled the tape snug around Britte’s waist. “Only because every time I hung them, you took them down.”
    â€œI look like a giraffe.”
    â€œHow you do run on, child!”
    â€œJust stating the facts. Gina, please, please! No skin showing! Else you’ll have everyone gawking at a frozen giraffe instead of the beautiful bride.”
    Gina rose from the bed and brought over the magazine. “Here. This is one of my choices.”
    Velvety crimson red enveloped the model in a warmth that almost radiated off the glossy page. The dress had a scalloped neck that rose high in the center. From gathered shoulders, long sleeves were held in place