Dear Jesus,
"Well, I guess break's over. Let's head back inside before your Mom thinks we've been kidn*pped," I said, trying to lighten up the mood.
"Who was that?" John asked.
"My bestie, Kathlyn Taylor. You met her during the love feast, remember?"
"Oh! I do." Then I thought I heard him mumble, "She's the pretty one." Maybe I was imagining that. So I forced myself not to ask him what he said. It was a much greater struggle not to think too deeply about it. I mean, it could have just been my imagination, right?
Five minutes later, I was trying to clean the center chandelier. John, who I discovered has a phobia for heights, was helping me to steady the stool I climbed on. Thank God Mommy Sarah had given me jeans to wear. If not, the dusty chandelier would have stayed in its dusty glor
