Page 125

“Amen,” I finally manage.

“Was that okay?”

“Olivia.” My voice isn’t quite level. “That’s the first time anybody’s prayed over me, besides Dottie, out loud in I don’t know how long. Usually I’m the one doing it for everybody else.”

“Well.” She clears her throat. “Somebody should do it for you sometimes.”

I fall asleep twenty minutes after we hang up, in my clothes, on top of the covers, in the middle of the morning. Four hours, no dreams. First real sleep after a bad one in longer than I can remember.

She did that.

I’ve spent ten years being the one who prays over the sick and the scared. Dottie taught me how. You bow your head, you ask God to hold the person, you mean it. I never once thought about the fact that nobody was bowing their head over me.

Somebody prayed over me today. A woman who had to work up the nerve to do it, who apologized in advance in case she got it wrong, and got it exactly right.

I don’t know what to do with that yet. So I just sleep.

By the next afternoon I’m back to myself, which for me means I’ve found something to fix. The kitchen faucet has had a drip for a week, and I’ve decided today it meets its end. Dottie watches me haul the toolbox out from under the stairs and doesn’t say a word, but she pours me a second cup of coffee and sets it on the counter where I’ll find it, which is her way of telling me she’s glad I’ve got my hands on something again. She knows the system too. She built half of it.

I’m under the sink with a wrench when my phone buzzes on the floor by my head.

Olivia

My friends are threatening to descend on Dallas.

Harper specifically. She says it’s been long enough and she needs to lay eyes on the firefighter in person.

I’m sorry in advance.

Luke

I’m not scared of Harper.

Olivia

You should be a little scared of Harper

I grin at the underside of the sink. A dinner with those three is going to be a trial by fire, and I want it anyway, because they’re hers and I want the whole loud package. But she hasn’t pinned it down, and I’m not going to push.

I call her that night after Bo’s down.

“I want to ask you something, and I want you to say yes before you hear the details.”

“That is a terrible way to ask for anything.”

“Come do Christmas with us.”

A pause. “I can’t, I’ll be in Houston.”

“I know. That’s why I’m not asking about Christmas Day.” I want her to be a part of the holiday, even if it’s not on the actual day. “You’re back the twenty-seventh. Dottie’s got a thing with her friends that evening. Come over. Just us and Bo. We’ll do our own Christmas. Bad movie, presents, the works.”

“What are we eating?”

“I was thinking I’d order pizza.”

The silence that follows is so offended I can feel it through the phone.

“We are not ordering pizza on Christmas.”