Anything but Normal - Melody Carlson [8]
“Not quite. But I’ll admit it’s not easy to see your only child leave home.” Mrs. Morris frowned. “And I know you’ve heard some of the PK horror stories.”
“PK horror stories?” Mrs. Stewart looked confused.
Mrs. Vincent sighed. “Surely you’ve heard tales about how pastors’ kids go bonkers in college. How they rebel and party and drink and all that sort of nonsense. But I think it’s highly exaggerated.”
“Maybe so, but I can’t deny that it worries me sometimes.” “Oh, kids will be kids,” Mrs. Stewart said. “They all need to rebel a little bit. That’s how they grow up.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Mrs. Morris said. “You’re not a pastor’s wife anymore.”
“Well, I still remember what it’s like,” Mrs. Stewart said. “The only difference between pastoring and lawyering is you get to bill your clients.” She chuckled.
“Even so,” Mrs. Vincent continued, “there’s a lot of pressure on families in the ministry. We need to be perfect . . . Our kids need to be perfect.”
Mrs. Stewart nodded. “I suppose that’s true. Maybe being married to a workaholic attorney has its upside after all.”
They continued to chat among themselves, and for the most part Sophie managed to tune them out. But she couldn’t help but wonder about what Dylan’s mom had just insinuated. She seemed genuinely worried about her son, about the fact that he might make some wrong choices. Well, maybe she should be worried. Dylan might claim to be a strong Christian, but he certainly wasn’t an angel. The way he had treated Sophie wasn’t anything to be proud of. Not that Sophie wanted to think about that now.
Suddenly her ears perked up again.
“That Dylan’s always been the lady killer,” Mrs. Vincent was saying. “Even when he was a toddler, he had those thick, long lashes and that million-dollar smile. I can still remember how he could coax me into an extra cookie after you’d told him he’d had enough already.”
Mrs. Morris laughed. “That’s our Dylan. Always the charmer.”
“And always a string of girls trailing after him.”
“Don’t I know it.” Mrs. Morris shook her head. “His dad and I have warned him over and over, the boy needs to keep his guard up when it comes to the girls. Good grief, some of them just throw themselves at him. We keep telling him to stay strong in his convictions and to honor his commitments. But it’s not easy for a young man.”
“And there’s my April, doing just what you said—she’s practically throwing herself at the poor boy.” Mrs. Stewart chuckled. “I swear, she just got that swimsuit and suddenly she thinks she’s all that and a bag of chips.”
Mrs. Morris just smiled. “Oh, April doesn’t worry me so much. I think Dylan respects that she’s only fifteen. And he’s always treated her like a little sister. I doubt that’s going to change now.”
“That’s what Carrie Anne says about Dylan too.” Mrs. Vincent laughed. “Not that she appreciates being treated like a little sister that much.”
Sophie cleared her throat and slowly stood up.
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Mrs. Vincent said. “I almost forgot you were still here. I’ll bet our conversation is making you uncomfortable.”
“Or putting you to sleep,” Mrs. Morris added.
“Are you feeling okay, Sophie?” Mrs. Vincent peered up at her. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m just kind of stiff and sore. I wish I’d driven out here myself, then I could go home and—”
“I know—why don’t you just take the Jeep and drive yourself home?” Mrs. Vincent suggested.
“But wouldn’t Pastor Vincent be—”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Vincent was already reaching for her purse. “I have my own set of keys.” She handled them like a prize. “And you’re a better driver than Carrie Anne is anyway.”
Mrs. Morris chuckled. “That’s not saying a lot. Hasn’t Carrie Anne been in several wrecks since she got her license?”
“They weren’t all her fault,” Sophie said.
“Anyway, Sophie has a much safer driving record.” Mrs. Vincent handed Sophie the keys and patted her hand. “She’s also got a much better academic record.” She smiled sadly. “I just wish you could rub off onto my daughter a bit more, Sophie.