Page 80 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

“Are you close?”

She shakes her head. “Not to Dad’s other kids. They’re a lot younger—ten and twelve years. I get along with my stepsister, okay. She’s closer to my age—we’re six years apart—but I only visited Dad’s family’s when I had to.”

There’s a lot to unpack in her words,Dad’s family,but I zero in on something else. “Ten years younger? Your dad didn’t waste time after the divorce.”

I don’t mean to pry, but I can’t stop myself. I’m finally getting to know the real Evie, the little girl who got hurt and has been trying to heal herself with smiles ever since, even though crying is the real fix. Or yelling. Maybe even cursing.

“Nope,” she sighs.

“Do I get the story behind that?”

Her chest rises with a breath. “My grandfather had a big church in Manhattan—” she looks up. “Kansas. Not the real one.”

“I remember.” I nod, urging her forward.

“It’s a big church. Most people in Kansas have heard of it.” She scoops a small bite of food but doesn’t bring it to her mouth. “Dad was a popular youth pastor there. Everyone knew our family. Then Faith Lyttle came to town. She was semi-famous in the Christian world. They had an affair, and he left us to marry her.”

“I remember her name.” I also remember the scandal attached to it, but I don’t say that to Evie. I’m sure she’s aware how of it. “Was she married?”

Evie shakes her head. “Her husband died in a car wreck before Hope—that’s my stepsister—was born.”

“Whew. That’s hard.” I sip my drink and let everything she’s told me simmer for a minute. “I thought forgiving my brother was hard, but yours is much harder. How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Forgive your dad. You have a relationship with him, right?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I talked to him yesterday, but it’s not like we’re close.”

“Do you want to be?” My dad is one of my best friends. I can’t imagine not having him in my life.

Evie scrunches her face like she’s eaten something sour. “He and Faith caused a huge scandal. People left my grandad’s church. Mom never recovered from the embarrassment.”

“But your mom’s not the one who did anything wrong.” I push the vindaloo she’s reaching for closer.

“You wouldn’t know it by the way people treated her. Mom’s always been really quiet, and when she gets depressed, she gets even quieter.” Evie dishes a large scoop of the lamb onto her plate but doesn’t pick up her fork when she’s done. “People at church loved my dad. They assumed it was her fault he left. People actually said that to me. She wasn’t happy enough. She wasn’t attentive enough to his needs.”

“Really? That’s stupid.” But it made total sense why Evie always tried to be happy. “Was she medicated for her depression?”

Evie scoffs. “My grandparents believed sin caused depression.”

I sit back and let that piece of information settle in. “That’s why you kind of freaked out when I asked you if you wanted to go to church?”

Evie’s eyes dart up. “You noticed that?”

I nod. “Doesn’t sound like you’ve had a great experience with religion.”

“Yes, and no.” Evie rocks her head from side to side. “I still believe. I guess I just needed to step away from the religious practice part for a bit while I work through some of my stuff.”

I can tell that’s still a sensitive topic, so I steer the conversation back to her mom. “It makes sense why you didn’t want to leave your mom alone if she had severe depression. But you haven’t lived with her for a long time. What changed?”

“My grandparents died. She got medicated, then she met Roger and now they go on mission trips all over the world together.” Evie jabs her fork into her food but doesn’t eat it. “But even before that, when it was time for me to go to college, she pushed me to go far away. She didn’t want me to end up stuck in Manhattan the way she was.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

She sets her fork down and looks up. “Oh, yeah. Of course. I wouldn’t be where I am without my mom. Even at her lowest, I knew she loved me more than anything.”

“What’s not to love?” I nudge her foot, even though what I want to do is reach across the table, take her hand, and hold it tight until she believes how lovable she is.

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