Aunt Wilona turned her head to look at me, the fear downshifted to worry in her face, then she smiled and slid an arm around my waist.

And it was then I had the weird sensation that, even when you thought you had everything, life found ways to give you more.

I pulled her closer and we walked into the house, following the partygoers who had already gone back inside.

I let her go after a squeeze and went to find my beer.

I’d located it, pulled back a drag, and dropped my beer to find Arlene standing right in front of me.

“Mindy’s pregnant,” she announced and I stared.

Then I whispered, “What?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” she declared, then walked away.

After she did what Arlene was prone to do, dropped a gossip bomb, my eyes flew around my living room until they caught on Mindy. She was standing with Becca and Bonnie. She was smiling. And she was drinking lemonade.

I felt my face split in a huge smile.

The doorbell rang.

I set my beer aside, moved through the crowd to the door, opened it, and there stood Pastor Williams.

Knowing from Ham what he’d done, I buried my desire to fling my arms around him and give him a big kiss. Instead, I just smiled.

“Hey, Pastor Williams,” I greeted.

“Zara.” He smiled back.

I stepped aside. “Please come in.”

He moved in, and I shut the door and threw out an arm.

We walked toward the crush, stopped at its edge, and I asked, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Unfortunately, I still have work to do on tomorrow’s sermon, so no. I just have time to stop by and pay my respects.”

“Bummer,” I replied.

He looked down at me and grinned.

Then he looked through the crowd, his face softening.

“I suspect your sister would enjoy today’s gathering,” he remarked.

She totally would.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

He kept looking through the crowd before, cautiously, he turned to me. “It seems there are some who haven’t yet arrived.”

I felt my back straighten when I asked, “Mom and Dad?”

He shook his head slowly. “No.”

I studied him then got it. “Zander’s out for a ride with Ham on his Harley.”

His face cleared, and he nodded once and mumbled, “Ah.”

“It’s all good, Pastor Williams,” I told him.

“Good,” he replied.

“Okay, no. That isn’t right. It’s all very good,” I shared and he again smiled.

“Good,” he whispered with feeling.

“Thank you,” I whispered back and watched his face change again before he socked it to me.

“I have been waiting years, Zara, turning it over in my head, talking to God, trying to find answers, my way to intervene,” he stated and I took in a deep breath at understanding his plight, knowing that Mom probably spoke to him or maybe he saw what other people didn’t see and knowing that he must have grappled with his powerlessness against it. “I still struggle, what I… when I spoke with Nina…” He paused. “I’m uncertain it was right.”

“It was right,” I assured him.

He shook his head. “When you make a decision to help one, or two, or five, but doing so might harm just one, it isn’t right. But it’s just and you simply hope that God can assist you in living with that balance.”

He was talking in circles, trying not to expose anything, but from what he said, I surmised, “You’re worried about Mom.”

“That I am, Zara,” he surprisingly confirmed. “Your father is a man who likes to get his own way. It’s crucial to him to control any situation with an iron fist,” he told me something I very well knew. “He’s lost access to a variety of targets. Therefore, his focus on the one he has left will be more acute.”

I didn’t like this for my mom but I’d long since learned the only person who could save her from being a target was herself. And for reasons I’d never understand, she was unwilling to do that. And for reasons I really didn’t understand, she was willing to put others in her path so when Dad’s attention turned to doing his worst, he’d focus on those targets rather than her.

So there was nothing I could do. But more, with my life the way it was, my sister gone, and all that had gone on that Mom might have had no control over, but still, doing nothing made her a party to it, there was nothing I wished to do.

I leaned slightly in to him. “I hope He does that for you, Pastor Williams, assists you with living with the balance. Because, in truth, I don’t know if there’s any hope for her. But I do know there’s no hope for Dad.”

“I have no doubt He will,” he replied. “That doesn’t mean it will all be well. Just that He will see us through.”

I lifted a hand and squeezed his arm, uncertain if God would see everyone through, this meaning my Mom, but He was doing His bit for the rest of us.

“He might see you through even better, if He saw you sitting in one of my pews more than just for the Christmas choir performance,” he went on, and at his pointed quip, I laughed, dropping my hand.

“Point taken,” I said.

“Good, then I’ll see you tomorrow morning at church. I have a very good sermon planned so I’m certain you won’t want to miss it.”

I gave him another smile then leaned closer, got up on my toes, and kissed his cheek but stayed there to say in his ear, “God chooses well.”

He gave my arm a squeeze as he murmured, “That’s a mighty compliment, Zara. Thank you.”

I rocked back, caught his eyes, and nodded.

He gave my arm another squeeze before he nodded back. His eyes went through the crowd, he did a few chin lifts when they fell on people he knew, and then he turned to the door.

I watched him move through it, and as he did, I saw Greg moving up my walk.

I’d called Greg and invited him. He’d never met Xenia but he’d gone to visit her with me once. I didn’t go to see her very often. It was too difficult. But since he was my husband, and she was my sister, and I loved them both, I thought he should meet her even if that meeting was macabre and bizarre.

Incidentally, when I went with Greg that was the last time I visited my sister.

I’d also invited Greg because we’d promised we wouldn’t lose each other and I knew Ham talked to him, so I hoped Ham had gotten through to him. Greg had called and spoken with me briefly after Xenia died. But other than that, I had no idea, with Ham in my life, his ring on my finger, if we could keep our promise.