Cherished - By Kim Cash Tate Page 0,3
not the same woman I married.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Babe, that’s a good thing! I’m just sayin’.”
Kelli laughed as Lindell backpedaled. For years her brothers had been busy with their careers, living the bachelor life. Hadn’t occurred to them or her that they should live near one another, be a part of each other's lives. But now they were both settled down, with wives Kelli would love to know better. She’d always wanted sisters. And it was strange that she, Cyd, and Stephanie kind of looked alike—all of them tall with honey brown skin and long brown hair.
And Daughters’ Fellowship sounded great. Her own relationship with God wasn’t where it should be. She’d known that for some time. Just wasn’t sure how to get it back on the right track. The thought of getting together with these women, talking and learning from them, felt like water to her parched soul.
If only it were in another city . . .
Kelli sighed as she looked around the table at the laughter, the ribbing, the love. Did she really want to stay in Austin, away from all of this?
And what about Miles? They’d been dating almost a year. Although he’d graduated from UT–Austin last December and moved back to Dallas, the distance didn’t seem so great with them both in Texas. Still, they were already several hours apart. Would a few more make a huge difference?
Kelli looked up as her mother stopped at their table.
“Hey, it’s my gorgeous mother,” Cedric said, placing an arm around her.
“No, it’s my gorgeous mother,” Lindell said, hugging her other side.
Francine London glowed with pride. “You boys are something else,” she said. “And I didn’t come to see y’all. I came to see how my daughters-in-law are doing.”
“Oh, it’s like that now?” Cedric asked. “I get married, and I get kicked to the curb?”
Francine laughed, keeping her arms around her sons’ waists. “I’m wondering what’s gonna happen when you all start having my grandchildren. I’m not gonna like being all the way in Little Rock.”
“You need to move back too,” Lindell said.
Francine dismissed it with a shake of the head. “Your grandmother’s not doing well, can’t get around, so we’re better off staying put.”
“Well, help us convince your daughter to move back,” Cedric said. “We’ve been working on her.”
Francine looked at Kelli, nodding. “I was thinking about that today, how nice it would be if you could be around your brothers and their wives. You know I’m big on family.”
“Yes, I know, Mom.” Kelli cut them off at the pass. “So . . . which one of you would be willing to let your little sister move in?”
two
BRIAN HOWARD HEARD THE EXTENDED APPLAUSE, WHISTLES, and chants for more—just as he’d heard in other cities—but he still couldn’t believe it was happening. He had to be living someone else’s life.
The fact that it was happening here made it even more surreal. His St. Louis life was lab science and experiments and hours upon hours of working mostly alone—the exact opposite of this huge outdoor concert with several Christian artists from different genres and a crowd of tens of thousands. This music artist life was supposed to be secondary, but moments like this made him wonder what God was up to. When he got the invitation—once he’d gotten past the shock—he hadn’t been sure how he’d be received. But the roar now was almost deafening. He patted his heart twice and pointed upward to let the crowd know where the praise belonged.
“King of kings! Lord of lords!” he shouted into the microphone, echoing the name of the song he’d just done.
The crowd joined in the praise by roaring louder.
Brian looked out at the sea of people that had descended on downtown near the Arch on a Sunday afternoon. “Thank you, St. Louis! My home! I love you!” He pumped his fist and turned to leave the stage as they began chanting again. They were shouting the name of his signature song, the one he’d saved for last. He was surprised this crowd knew it.
At the back of the stage, Brian turned and cupped his ear. “You wanna hear what?”
“Out of This World,” they yelled.
He took a few steps toward them. “I thought people were tired of that one.”
“No!” they thundered.
Brian gave his trademark smile and cued the deejay with a glance. The thumping beat started, and the crowd went wild. He launched into the words as the dancers reappeared—four young women he’d told his manager he didn’t want or need.