“What? I think it’s cute—”
“Oh myGod.” I cover my face with my hands. Maybethisis why I don’t ever invite any other friends over!
“Are you entering the pumpkin chucking? It’s a tradition—”
“Mom, Hannah knows about the tradition. She goes to my school. She’spresidentof the festival committee,” I remind her, ready to fall out of my chair.
Hannah giggles,giggles, eating up every second of my mom ruining my existence.
“I don’t have a date yet,” she says, still laughing.
“Have you chucked before?” Mom asks.
“I actually haven’t,” Hannah admits.
“Wait, really?” I ask, realizing this is something we never talked about—not when Hannah joined the committee and not even when we were at camp.
“Nope.”
“I really hope you do it this year,” Mom says. “Even if you don’t find a date, you can bring a friend. Clarity and her friend Kristen usually enter together. But they’re both bringing dates this year.”
“Aw, that will be cute,” Hannah coos, playing along.
“You know, when I met your father, I was setagainstdating. I used to wear my grandmother’s ring on my ring finger to stop guys from talking to me.”
“Really?”Hannah asks, leaning forward on her elbows, homework be damned.
“Yes,”Mom says, leaning against the counter. “I dated so many duds, I was done. At least, I wanted to take a break, cleanse my soul a little bit.”
“So, how did you meet Mr. Jones if you were trying to ward guys off?”
Mom curls in on herself a little, her lips spreading into a small smile. She looks down at her glass of wine, but from the visible warmth in her skin, it would be more fitting if she was holding a piping mug of hot chocolate.
“It was at church. I joined the ushers when I was in college to meet some people and make friends. Our meetings happened to let out at the same time as a Bible study group.
“So, one day, after our meeting ended and we were havingrefreshments, one of the ushers invited them to join us. I didn’t notice him at first. He came into the room with the rest of the group, and I wasn’t paying them any mind. I was talking to one of my girlfriends. But then I felt something, and I looked up. There, on the far side of the room piling a glazed donut on top of his chocolate-iced donut, was Clark. He had an Afro back then—I don’t know if you’ve met Clarity’s dad, but he’s bald,” Mom says, laughing a little. “But he had an Afro back then, and these dorky, thick-framed glasses, and a neat beard. And his smile—ugh, that smile.
“God might as well have been sitting on my shoulder, whispering in my ear,He’s the one.”
“But how did you know? Like, he could’ve been like any other guy,” Hannah points out.
Having heard this story already, I get up to pour myself some coffee, still listening. More interested in Hannah’s take on the story than in the story itself.
“He could’ve been,” Mom admits, pulling the creamer out of the fridge for me. “But he wasn’t. I prayed for a good man, and when I saw him, I just knew that he was the answer to those prayers.”
“I guess that makes sense. Sometimes, with the right person, it feels different. Indescribable even,” Hannah says, looking over at me but quickly looking away.
“Exactly,” Mom says, nodding in agreement. “Indescribable.”
I sit back down, thankful for the mug warming my hands and for the misty way Hannah seems to be admiring my Mom and her story.
“It’s refreshing that you’re such a romantic,” Hannah says.
The comment catches me off guard and I nearly choke on my coffee.
“I didn’t become one until I met Clark,” Mom admits, tentatively touching the outside of her plastic container to see if it’s cooled off. “God taught me lessons, sent guys to show me good qualities and bad qualities, showed me what to appreciate in a man even if it’s not something I necessarily like. That way, when the right man came along, I’d be sure. I’d know, from the signals.
“I think falling in love is exciting, and I can’t wait to watch Clarity experience it. I know that’s not what you girls want to hear, but I’m sure your mom feels the same way.”