“Almost through.” Mike’s hands brushed over a discolored diagonal line across Tim’s chest. “Glad you were wearing your seat belt.”

“For once.” Tim nodded. “Guess I must have been listening to you.”

“Also, for once.” Mike looked into Tim’s eyes. “You look okay, but you’re going to be sore. Put some ice on your face.”

“Yeah, sure.” He limped off.

Mike shook his head and hoped Tim would grow up before he did any real damage to himself or someone else.

“Thanks for loaning me your car.” Mike backed Francie’s little red Focus out of the drive and turned south. He glanced at his cousin, taking warmth from her smile. Dark curls surrounded her face, a little fuller now in pregnancy.

As he stopped at a light, he noticed the worried frown on her face. “So how’s little Ebenezer doing?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call the baby that.” She laughed, the lovely, happy sound that always made Mike feel great. “A girl named Ebenezer? It would be terrible enough for a boy.” She paused before adding in a worried voice, “As I said, I’m having a few physical problems. I’m pretty sure the doctor will tell me to cut down my activities until I deliver.”

“What’s going on?”

“Unless you’re the father or the grandparents of this baby, you don’t want to know.” Her voice trembled a little.

“Francie, I took a course in genetics, embryology and reproduction my first and only year of medical school.”

“Well, then I’d prefer not to tell you. It’s kind of personal.” She softened the words with a smile. “Anyway, that’s why Brandon wanted you to drive me since he couldn’t get off today. We’re not sure what the doctor’s going to say.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “We first-time parents worry a lot.”

He signaled and turned on the ramp to Loop 1 or the MoPac as everyone in Travis County called the highway. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I do. And I will.” She sighed. “So you might as well drive the car. Brandon or his family will drive me anywhere so I won’t need it. If using my car makes you feel guilty, bring me some of Manny’s good soup from the diner every week or two.”

“Fine with me.” He stopped at a light and turned toward her. “Mom’s coming home next week. I’ll be able to pick her up at the bus station.”

“Are you excited to see her after—how long has it been? Seven, eight years?”

“Eight.” He considered the question. “Hard to say. I’m excited and worried both. The three of us haven’t lived together since she left. We’ll be crowded in that tiny house.” He stepped on the gas as the light changed. “Tim and I have to share the second bedroom. The owner has bunk beds in there.” Mike grimaced. “Fortunately, Tim’s still enough of a kid to like sleeping in the top bunk.”

“Oh, and you’re such an old man you couldn’t get up there?”

“I don’t want to get up there.” He turned off on the Thirty-fourth Street exit and drove a block before he said, “There’s another reason I’m worried.” His hands beat out a rhythm on the steering wheel. “You know how much I love her, but how’s Mom going to move on from prison life? She’s never worked. What if she wants to forge paintings again?”

“That’s hard, Mike.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Guess you’ll have to lay down the law, which is not something this family is good about accepting. I’ll pray for you. You might do some praying for yourself.”

He nodded. No use telling the woman who’d introduced him to church and helped him develop his faith that prayer had become only habit. It didn’t work for him anymore.

Francie folded her hands over the roundness of her stomach and struggled to find a comfortable position. “How’s Cynthia?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen her for a while.” He signaled for a turn, carefully kept his gaze on the road and refused to meet her eyes. “Not a lot of traffic. We should get to the doctor’s office in plenty of time.”

“Don’t change the subject.” She pushed herself around in the seat to look at him. “What happened with Cynthia? I thought you two were made for each other.”

“I thought so, too.” He clenched his jaw, not wanting to say more, but he knew Francie wouldn’t leave him alone until he explained. “When I told her I had to quit medical school to work, that we couldn’t get married for two or three years, not until Mom and Tim are on their own, she said she wouldn’t wait.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“She wants to marry a doctor, not an orderly who lives with his mother and brother.” Her departure had filled him with an emptiness it would take time to fill, so at least he wouldn’t hurt every time he thought about her. “I don’t blame her.”

“You should blame her. She’s a shallow ninny.”

He didn’t feel like it, but he had to laugh.

“Why aren’t you angry? You should be furious,” she said.

“I thought Christians didn’t get angry.”

“Well, in some situations, like when your former fianc'ee is being a shallow ninny, I think it’s okay. For a while.”