Twin Wishes. Kathryn Alexander

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      He started the truck and headed toward Olaf’s Deli where he needed to buy milk and bread—necessities for breakfast in the O’Hara household.

      “Daddy, can you get us some pickles?” Todd asked when his father pulled into a parking spot in front of the deli.

      “Sure, son. C’mon,” Luke answered, helping both kids out of the vehicle. “Let’s go. Don’t run.”

      The children ran through the front door toward the huge jar of whole pickles kept on top of the meat case. Luke bought several, together with the other items on his mental list. Maybe a scrap of paper and pencil would have been more reliable, but he hadn’t taken the time to jot anything down. He rarely did. That also reminded him of Kimberly, almost as much as stormy days did. She’d been a chronic list maker, systematically marking off the numbered items as she completed them. All of that organization had disappeared from his life with her departure. And where had God been during all of that? Where was He now, Luke wondered.

      “Can we eat the pickles now?” Todd was begging while Nora was busy reaching for the plastic bag that held their snack.

      “Wait until we get home, you two,” Luke answered. “You’ll want drinks, too, and I don’t have any in the truck. Come on, we’ll be there in five minutes.”

      The kids didn’t seem to mind another night of frozen dinners in their small utilitarian kitchen filled with only the basic appliances. They ate their fish sticks, French fries and peas, and then rushed into the living room to watch a favorite cartoon while Luke cleared the table. It was when he was adding today’s dirty silverware to yesterday’s in the dishwasher that he suddenly noticed the mostly bare counters. The only homey touches were a basket of now wilting flowers that Frank and Maggie had sent and a large ceramic cookie jar with a comical cat painted on the front that Maggie had purchased, filled with homemade goodies and delivered on moving day. Luke had meant to buy some cookies from the bakery and replenish the supply, but he’d forgotten to do so. Maybe, tomorrow, he told himself. Maybe tomorrow, he’d get things right. But, deep in his aching heart, Luke knew his sister had been accurate. She’d warned him that nothing would be really right with him ever again, not until he made peace with the Lord he used to trust. Luke knew that would not happen until he could pray again…and he wasn’t sure that day would ever come.

      The next day went by quickly with Luke dropping off and picking up Nora and Todd at the center as he had done on previous days. The weather was very warm and another storm slowed Luke’s landscaping work in the city that afternoon. But when the morning of the Fourth of July finally arrived, it promised to be a gorgeous day—just as Maggie Wren had hoped it would be. There wasn’t a storm cloud in the sky. Julianne was up to see the sunrise that morning through her kitchen window, but only because she had promised Maggie she’d make a banana cream pie for their lunch. Otherwise, she would have slept in.

      Dumping a small amount of flour on her counter, she soon finished her least favorite part of the job—rolling out the crust. She used her mother’s recipe for a double crust so she filled two pie plates instead of one. The second one she was considering keeping for herself. Sometimes, at the end of a holiday, she’d come home to her empty apartment, make herself a cup of tea and eat something luscious as a reward for getting through the day without allowing herself to wallow in too much self-pity. The Fourth of July wouldn’t be any different from the past few holidays she’d gone through without an engagement ring on her finger and Craig by her side. “But losing him was a blessing in disguise,” she said aloud to the goldfish swimming in the bowl nearby. She really was thankful that the relationship was over; but Julianne missed the old feelings of belonging to someone, being half of a couple, believing in a happy, full future for herself.

      The crusts went into the oven, 450 degrees for twelve minutes, and while they baked, Julianne went into the bathroom to apply her makeup. She had already showered and her shoulder-length hair had been styled into the slightly wavy look she normally wore. But it wasn’t her clean skin or her blond hair that caught her attention in the bathroom mirror. It was the saddened expression she’d found looking back at her. One she’d seen too many times lately. One she was growing weary of.

      Julianne hadn’t realized how long she’d been standing in front of that mirror, just thinking, until the timer in the kitchen buzzed. She rushed to shut it off and retrieve the crusts from the oven.

      “Today is going to be a good day, Goldie,” she said to her tiny roommate. “No more moping around about being alone. I’m going to watch a parade, eat too much good food, and, in general, have a very fun day.”

      A couple of little bubbles rose to the top of Goldie’s water, almost as if the fish were trying to respond to its owner’s words. Julianne laughed. “Sorry, sweetie, but I don’t speak your language,” she said. Then she reached for some sugar and began stirring the pie filling. Soon she was slicing bananas and assembling her homemade creation to be shared with Maggie’s family.

      Julianne chose blue walking shorts and an appropriate white T-shirt with a design of blue-and-red fireworks brightening up its front and back. Loading her small wooden picnic basket with one pie and the packages of fresh hamburger buns she’d purchased at Maggie’s request from Swenson’s Bakery last night, she was ready to go. Julianne slipped her sunglasses into place, retied a running shoe that had come undone and, basket in hand, began the short walk to Maggie and Frank Wren’s house. She knew Luke and the twins would be there today. Maggie had made a point of telling her.

      As Julianne neared her friend’s home, she fretted about that disastrous experience with Nora, Todd and the tornado siren the other day. She certainly wasn’t who or what they needed then, and she wondered how they would respond to her today. But when she rapped lightly against Maggie’s screen door and then opened it to enter, she was instantly greeted with shrieks of joy from the O’Hara twins who ran to hug their teacher. “You’re here! You’re here!” Nora placed both hands on her hips. “We thought you’d never come,” she scolded, which brought an immediate smile from Julianne.

      “I had a pie to bake,” Julianne explained and gave each child a soft touch to their cheek. “Where’s your aunt Maggie?”

      “She’s in the kitchen, Julianne. She’s getting ready to go to the parade with us.”

      “Thanks, kids. See you in a minute.” Then she entered the homey kitchen of peach and soft greens. “So, I’ve progressed from Miss Quinn to Julianne?” she remarked to Maggie when she found her friend with her nose stuck inside the refrigerator. “I wonder how that happened?”

      “Probably because they’ve heard me talking about you. I generally call you by your first name, you know,” Maggie replied with a grin.

      “And just what have you been saying? And to whom?” Julianne asked with a smile as she set her basket on the table. “Or need I ask?”

      “Hello, Miss Quinn.” Julianne turned at the sound of the voice she recognized to see Luke O’Hara entering the room.

      Maggie shrugged in answer to Julianne’s abandoned question. “Oh, just some people, here and there. It’s nothing to worry about. Luke, her first name is Julianne. And, Julianne, his first name is Luke. Try using them for a change.”

      Julianne laughed softly, nervously. “She’s right, you know. We don’t need to be so formal. How are you, Luke?”

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