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having so much of his personality and character. That always made her smile.
    “You haven’t said whether or not you’d tell me your testimony.”
    He sighed as he handed her the wallet. “Mine is a very long story, with lots of layers. Rich man. Poor man. Prison. Pastor.”
    “Will you tell me some time?” She’d give anything to know more.
    His blue eyes reached into her as his smile shortened. “I think I will.” He turned slightly. “If your mom will let me.”
    Did she hear him right? “What about my mom?”
    He rubbed his neck and shook his head. “She might not like the pastor filling your head with his sordid past.”
    “I hope Cassandra hasn’t been too standoffish with you.” Grandma’s voice held the reprimand Sophie knew was for her mother. “Don’t mind her. She just thinks I’m trying to fix you two up ’cause you’re both single. I know better than to do that with her. It usually sends her running in the other direction.” Grandma pulled Tibo into a hug. “She’s just a bit uptight right now, worrying how she’ll provide for the kids.”
    Pastor Vince’s head tilted, eyes filled with questions he didn’t ask. Sophie could almost feel the concern ooze from him. Was he like that with all his parishioners? She could understand why so many loved him.
    “Come on, Sophie. We better get going and let the pastor get back to work.”

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
    Cassandra organized the forms on her mother’s dining room table. She sat before spreadsheets listing churches with special needs programs, numbers of students, types of services, sizes of congregations, median incomes, and locations. She stared at the stacks of literature each church had sent her when she called to request information. They were categorized based on method—those that used buddy systems to include the children in the regular youth services, and those that placed special needs students in a separate classroom.
    She looked at Tibo running his favorite truck along the carpet, leaving a trail as the fibers changed directions. He loved “drawing roads” that way.
    Would he be better off in a separate room with kids more like him, or included with the other students? And what about the non-special-needs children? Shouldn’t they be more exposed to the ways of the developmentally challenged? Cassandra was never sure how to answer that question. Sometimes, it seemed nice for Tibo to relate with children most like him.
    She sighed, and Tibo’s gaze rose to hers. His brown eyes seemed to sink into the delicate folds of her heart. “Pway.”
    Did he know what she was thinking, or was that word just another perseveration? It didn’t matter, it was exactly what she needed to do.
    After following Tibo’s suggestion, she opened her eyes from that moment with God to find her son’s gentle smile facing her way. He went back to drawing roads. “Dugga-dugga-dugga. Beep-beep-beep.”
    “Mom, I can’t find my bathing suit.” Sophie always began her sentences before she even entered the room.
    Cassandra scanned Sophie’s fitted T-shirt and hipster shorts. When had she become a woman? Pride and fear mingled in Cassandra’s chest at the thought. Her little girl was beautiful and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. “The pink one is still hanging in the bathroom.”
    “Not that one, Mom. The royal blue.”
    Cassandra’s pulse skipped. “You mean the one with the plunging neckline that I now regret buying?”
    Sophie shifted. “Mom.”
    When did her title first take on two syllables?
    “Is this change in swim wear because you saw that boy from the home improvement store at the pool last week?”
    Sophie huffed, but didn’t answer.
    Cassandra waved her hand in the air. “I think it’s in the laundry basket in my room.”
    “I still can’t believe Sky goes to our pool.” Sophie’s eyes lit with excitement. “What are the odds of that? I’m going to ask him to church if I see him.”
    “And you