The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Caught Read Online Free PDF Page B

camping at Cornerstone in heat like this. Poor kids.
    I realized Denny hadn’t finished his sentence. “Just what? That’s good, isn’t it? ”
    â€œSure. It’s just . . .” He sighed. “They’ve got a long way to go. Mark needs a lot of rehabilitation after that head injury. He gets confused. Can’t remember stuff. Can’t tie his shoes. And he needs surgery on that damaged eye. He might . . . lose it. The sight in that eye, I mean. He’s definitely not going to be able to teach this fall.”
    â€œOh, Denny.” Sadness welled up for my friends. Hadn’t Nony and Mark been through enough already? Then my sad turned to mad. God had done a mighty thing when Mark came out of that coma.Why did there have to be so many nasty loose ends?
    I blew out my frustration. “It’s going to be a long haul for Ruth and Ben too.” I hefted the pitcher of lemonade. “Want some more? ” I refilled our glasses, and we wandered out to the back porch, hoping to catch a breeze. But the elms hovering overhead hung limp and still.
    Denny grunted as he settled on the porch steps. “She tell you any more about what the doctor is saying? ”
    â€œUh-huh. Guess the big scary possibility is a Down syndrome baby. A one-in-thirty chance, something like that. Or another miscarriage—though she’s past the three-month mark now. Ruth considers that the miracle.To her, God is giving her the child she never had. Nothing else seems to matter.”
    â€œAnd Ben? ”
    I snorted. “Oh, he’s a big help. Keeps coming up with all these statistics off the Internet about higher risk of death for pregnant women over forty. Or developing diabetes. Or the baby having low birth weight, stuff like that.”
    â€œHe’s scared, Jodi. For all his bluster, Ben loves Ruth.”
    â€œYeah, well, he sure has a funny way of showing it. He’s making her miserable. Nagging her to death about going to Planned Parenthood or a women’s health center. She won’t hear of it, says they’re just abortion mills. Frankly, I think he just doesn’t want the bother of becoming a daddy at age sixty.”
    Denny grunted again but said nothing for several minutes. Then, “Hey.Where’s Andy? Is he still here? I’ve got something for him.”
    â€œI think he’s watching videos. I heard the TV upstairs.”
    Denny rummaged in the pockets of his cargo shorts. He pulled out a skinny box. Sparklers.
    â€œDenny! Where’d you get those? Illinois doesn’t sell fireworks!”
    The dimples in his cheeks appeared. “Yeah, but the guy with his coat of many pockets hanging around the el station does.”
    ANDY AND DENNY HAD A SQUEALING GOOD TIME with the sparklers in our backyard when it got dark. I fired up the charcoal grill and invited Becky and Andy to eat with us on the back porch, just hanging out and working our way through grilled lemon chicken, early corn on the cob, and root beer floats. In the distance, we could hear boom boom boom from nearby suburbs shooting off their own Fourth of July fireworks.
    I was glad Denny got the sparklers. This was a boring weekend for Andy to visit his mom, with Josh and Amanda gone, and Stu too—though I heard her Celica pull into the garage late Saturday night. At least she and Becky were able to take Andy to church on Sunday morning. Becky had gotten permission from her parole officer to attend weekly services once Pastor Clark wrote a letter on her behalf on church letterhead. When we got to church, Carla Hickman, age nine, was swooning over Andy like a doting little mama. For a girl with two big brothers, here was a little boy who didn’t boss her around or tell her to get lost. And cute to boot.
    Uptown’s worship service that Sunday didn’t quite measure up to last week’s double celebration,what with two of our best worship leaders gone—Avis visiting her