Queen Esther & the Second Graders of Doom. Allie Pleiter

you to tell Steven Jesus doesn’t have X-ray vision so he can go home and put his mother’s mind at ease next week.”

      “I already told Steven Bendenfogle that superpowers aren’t real.”

      “Then be more specific. Something along the lines of ‘Steven, Jesus does not have X-ray vision’ ought to do just fine.”

      “Mark-o…”

      “One kid got his information twisted. Now stop getting all worked up, simply set him straight and get on with it, no matter how ridiculous it seems. You missed one shot, Essie, not the whole track meet. And it’s not a competition. Look, if you knew how many calls like this I get a week, you’d see this for the minor detail it is. I get notes about how I don’t comb my hair, or how I don’t use the Bible translation they like, how the organ’s too loud or the praise band isn’t loud enough, or that we should be using white bread instead of wheat bread for communion—all kinds of tiny grievances.”

      Essie moaned. “How do you stand it?”

      “I try to remember that if they care enough to make a comment, then I’m at least getting them to care at all. In my business, opinion isn’t the enemy, apathy is.” He paused for a moment before adding on a sigh, “And some Sunday afternoons, you hit the golf ball really, really hard.”

      “Okay. Young Master Bendenfogle will get his X-ray vision thing straightened next week, count on it.”

      “I knew I could. And promise me you’re not going to get all worked up about this. It’s one detail in a whole stack of successes. Got it?”

      Essie sighed. “Got it. Hey, wait a minute! Doesn’t seeing into our hearts, seeing past our actions into our intentions count as a spiritual sort of X-ray vision?”

      The Pastor Taylor tone came back into his voice. “Essie…”

      “Okay, okay, point taken. I’ll be crystal clear next week. By the way, what did Dr. Einhart say about Pop’s latest blood work?”

      “The appointment got moved to this week. I…uh…meant to talk to you about that.”

      In Mark-o’s world, “I meant to talk to you about that” translated directly to “I need you to take care of this for me.” Esther didn’t even have to guess what was coming next.

      “The appointment was moved to this week on Wednesday at eleven o’clock, and I had to book a counseling session for that time. You can take Pop, can’t you?”

      Essie fisted her hands around an unsuspecting bath towel. “We agreed to split these. I’ve done the last two. I’ve got something going on Wednesday.”

      The silence on the other end of the phone spoke volumes about how much Mark-o thought Essie might actually “have going.” He didn’t even have to say “can’t you move it?” His pause said it for him.

      She beat him to the punch. “And no, I don’t want to move it. It’s an appointment, by the way, that I’ve had to bail on twice because you called me to pick up your end with Pop.” She stood up off the couch, pacing the room now, her agitation growing. “You keep saying ‘it’s just this once,’ but it never is. Both of us need to deal with this, whether you’re off saving the world or not.”

      “I thought you came out here to help with Pop.”

      “Hold on there. I came out here to help, not to take over so you could get back to your oh-so-busy life. I know you did lots of this before, and I know you’re an important man, but don’t go dumping all of this in my lap just because I showed up on the West Coast.”

      “So you want me to tell this woman that I have to put off her counseling session—with a depressed daughter who has resisted counseling for six months and has finally relented—because I have to drive my Pop for a checkup?”

      Oh, she hated it when Mark-o played the emergency card. Yes, lots of what he did was urgent, but it was always urgent. She hated how he made her life feel mundane and insignificant. How he made her feel selfish for wanting to keep a much-needed lunch with Cece. She’d already had to cancel twice on Cece in order to cover for him. He was a lifeline to lots of people, but did that mean she had to go without her own lifelines? “I want,” she said slowly, “for you not to have said ‘yes’ in the first place. To have found another time because you had a prior commitment. What about Peggy? Can’t she help you out?”

      “Peggy’s got a sales meeting in L.A. for two days. I just thought…” His voice was so annoyed that he didn’t even finish the sentence.

      “I know exactly what you ‘just thought.’ It starts with ‘since you’re not working anymore and babies are so marvelously portable.’ Taking Pop to the doctor’s is a pain, but when will you to realize it’s just as much a pain for me as it is for you?”

      His silence told her he didn’t exactly see it that way. After a long pause he said, “So will you do it or not?”

      Essie rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Were you listening at all?”

      “Look, Essie, I just need you to cover for me…”

      “Don’t you dare say ‘just this once’!” she yelled into the phone. Loudly enough, unfortunately, to wake up Josh, who was napping in the swing beside her. “Oh, great. Thanks, Mark-o, this is really how I wanted to end my afternoon.” Josh wailed, angry at having had his late afternoon nap cut short. “I’ll talk to you at adults’ Bible study if I see you. I’ve got to go take care of Josh.” With a growl, she stabbed her finger onto the off button of the cordless phone.

      Chapter 8

      The Downpour of Demands

      The clock seemed to delight in clicking over another digit to the brutal hour of 1:30 a.m. Essie let out a sigh as she dropped her bathrobe to the floor and climbed back into bed. Doug, to her surprise, was wide-awake.

      “Josh nod off finally?” His voice sounded as tired as she felt.

      “We can only hope. I think I’m gonna die if he’s working on another ear infection. I finally gave him some Tylenol, and he seemed to calm down, so it’s either his ears or his teeth keeping him up.”