“What’d I tell you, Aunt Casey? He’s sincere. I know he is. He’s so sweet . . . and he’s a hunk too. You just gotta give him another chance."
“I don’t know, Megan.” Casey stared out the window at the narrow stream of chattering people strolling over from the main building.
Father, I don’t know what to do. Seems like every time I turn around Edward has a different personality. I’m too tired to deal with it anymore. I wish I could come home to You. Everything’s happening too fast. I don’t have time to think.
The approaching people froze where they were. A bird in flight hung in the air as though from a wire, wings extended.
Casey gaped. She turned to look at Megan. She was staring at her through blank eyes. Her mouth open as though she were speaking. Her hands behind her head to adjust her ponytail. Still as a stone. Like a childhood game of statue.
Silence. No conversation from the next room. The ceiling fan stopped short overhead. The second hand on the clock was stuck between two little marks.
A soft breeze ruffled Casey’s hair and the smell of wild clover and honeysuckle hung in the air. She jerked her head around frantically. “What’s happening, Lord?”
I’m giving you time to think.