Page 95 of A Whim and a Prayer

She blinked, eyes in a squint. “Did he say where he was going by chance?”

“No, ma’am, he and Miss Hennessy left right after their meeting and never mentioned anything else.”

Miss Hennessy? Charity’s mouth dropped open, right before she snapped it closed to avoid demeaning their boss.

“Well, thank you, Chester. He’ll probably be home any minute now.”

“Yes, ma’am. You know,” he said with a reflective pause, “he just might have taken Miss Hennessy home because although her driver dropped her off, I didn’t see him out front when they left, so that might account for the delay …”

A two-hour delay?

“Yes, it surely could have, Chester, so thank you. You have a good night.”

“Yes, ma’am—you too.”

“Not likely,” Charity muttered as she fought the urge to slam the phone down. She checked the clock again and groaned. Ten thirty? A “good night,” my eye. Maybe for the she-devil …

“Trust me, sweetheart,” Mitch had told her, “it’s not the same Marjorie, so you have nothing to worry about. She’s old now and looks like a hag next to you.”

“Hag, my foot,” she’d muttered after she’d seen a photo of her in the society pages.

“No!” She stomped her foot, refusing to give in to “devil whispers,” as Faith liked to call them, and they were—demonic negative thoughts whispered in your ear to promote fear, and she would not stand for it!

“For God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power and love and self-control,” she shouted to the dishes, dive-bombing her hands into the soapy water, truly thankful both Julia and Winnie were upstairs asleep and dead to the world.

Or at least to Charity’s rantings.

“Where are you, Mitch Dennehy?” she hissed, “and what on earth are you doing?”

Do you really want to know? the thought came, and Charity groaned, scouring a cookie tin to a gleam, wishing she could scour the anxious thoughts from her brain as easily. Slapping the tin into the drain basket, she snatched up the mixing bowl, battling the negative thoughts with Scripture like Faith had taught her.

“Be anxious in nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.”

She gritted her teeth. “Okay, God, I praise and thank you in the face of this situation because I know Your word says, ‘And we know that to them that love God all things work together for good, even to them that are called according to His purpose,’ and that’s me, Lord, so I ask You to make good out of Mitch being late. Because if You can make good out of what happened to Winnie, I just know You can make good out of this too, and guard my heart and thoughts with peace, in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

Charity took a deep breath and slowly released it again, never more grateful for her sister Faith pounding the importance of memorizing Scripture into her stubborn head, which the Bible called the Sword of the Spirit. Because now, through the might of that very sword—His Word—she could take any and everything—big or little—to the Lord in prayer, unleashing His power into every situation. Because heaven knows He could handle it a whole lot better than her! And sweet angels above, it sure made life a whole lot easier!

Eyes closed and arms wrapped around her middle, she spun around with a sudden burst of joy, giggling as gratitude spilled from her heart. “I just love You to pieces, You know that?” she said out loud with a huge smile on her face.

“Uh … who do you love to pieces? And if it’s not me or another member of your family, I want his name and address.”

Chapter Sixty-Five

Charity spun around, so happy to see her husband, she forgot she was mad at him. “Mitch!” She dashed into his arms, squeezing with all her might before she remembered he was over two hours late. “Hey,” she said as she pulled away, “where the devil have you—?” She gasped when she saw blood on his cheek. “Oh my goodness, what happened to you?”

He rubbed his face, wincing when he touched the sore spot. “Retribution, Little Girl, and trust me—it felt pretty darn good.”

Her jaw took a dive as her eyes went wide. “Wait … you fought Brayden McCarthy?”

“Nope, I decked him because he hit me first.”

“What? How? Where?”

“At that sleazy fraternity he used to belong to.” He ambled over to the table, nodding toward the endless supply of sweets she worked on all night. “What’s this?” he asked, waving at the three different cookies she’d made and the marble fudge cheesecake, which was Winnie’s favorite.

Teeth tugging on the edge of her lip, she gave a tiny lift of shoulders along with a sheepish smile. “I needed a safe outlet for my frustration that wouldn’t ruin my marriage.”

He chuckled as he took a seat, hand-selecting a number of his favorite cookies. “I gotta tell you, Little Girl, I like this a whole lot better than you pulling hair.”