CHAPTER 7
“OH, THERE’S SOMEONE here. I was worried.”
Joy Holmes, one of the church’s only young mothers, propped the nursery door open with her foot. She held her one-year-old baby, who was laughing at her own spit bubbles, in one arm and dragged her three-year-old inside while she tugged against her mom’s firm grasp.
“Come on, Zoe. Let’s go in and play.” Her voice was breathy, as if she were winded from walking down the stairs. Or maybe she was trying to keep from losing her temper in front of the pastor’s wife.
Zoe shook her head and let her legs fall beneath her.
“Do you want a timeout?” Joy demanded and shot an unconvincing smile at Katrina. “I’m sorry. She’s in a mood today. Her father gave her and her brother too much pie at Thanksgiving, and I swear they’re both still on a suga
