Prince Tennyson by Jenni James Page A

going to take that as a no.”
    I blinked. Mom’s eyes looked happy. Happier than I’d seen them in forever. Almost as happy as they were when Dad was still here. I had to ask. “How? How do you know?”
    Mom glanced at me funny as she set the milk on the counter. “How do I know it didn’t hurt you? Are you saying the milk carton hurt you, hon?”
    I shook my head. I caught Grandma’s raised eyebrows as she silently walked to the table next to Hannah, who was watching us with her mouth open. I glanced back over at my mom. “I … uh, no. I didn’t mean about the milk. How do you know that God is real? What happened?”
    Grandma lowered her piece of toast and watched us too. Cameron made some car noises in his cereal, but I zoned him out. I really wanted to hear what Mom said.
    She amazed me by holding my shoulders and then squeezing me to her. My mom had really gotten into hugs. I liked it.
    â€œI don’t know,” she whispered excitedly in my ear. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and the easiest thing I never knew existed.”
    â€œReally?” I was confused.
    â€œYeah.” Mom giggled as she pulled back and held my hands. “It’s so easy, Chelsea. You have to do it.”
    â€œBut I thought you said it was hard.”
    â€œNo. Yes.” Mom smiled and shook her head. “It is hard because you have to wait. And you think the answer will never come, and you go through everything crazy, waiting to see if God will answer your prayer or not. So yes, that’s very hard. The waiting part.” She brushed her hand over my forehead and moved some of my bangs out of my eyes. “But the prayer when you ask God for something and then He answers—that’s the easy part. It’s so easy, you’ll never even believe how easy it is.”
    â€œReally?” I glanced at Grandma Haney. She was smiling. I think this was a special day for my grandma, to see that her daughter believed in God. But there was still something I wasn’t quite sure of, so I blurted out, “What did He do? What did God say? Did you see something? And how do you know it was God talking, anyway?”
    Okay, I didn’t mean to add the last part, but I really did want to know what was going on, so I was glad I did, especially when Mom answered me.
    She turned around and talked to Grandma too. “I knew God was real, because early this morning when I asked again, I had no distractions. It was just me in the dark praying to God. And this time—” she glanced up at me and smiled a watery smile “—I felt him, Chelsea. I really, really felt God.”
    She felt him? How?
    â€œI had the warmest feeling come over me. It tingled from the top of my head all the way down to my toes, and I felt so comforted and safe, more than I have ever felt since your dad died. I knew in that moment that God was real, that He loved me, and He wanted me to be happy.”
    God wanted Mom to be happy.
    I thought about that. I thought about it while she hugged me again and then while we ate breakfast and all the time while Grandma asked her lots of questions. It was still on my mind as we raced to school. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t think of anything else.
    God wanted Mom happy.
    If there was a God, then I could see that He’d want that. And I wanted God to want my Mom to be happy. And she was—anyone could see that. She was so happy it was like a miracle.
    It was a miracle.
    All those months my mom had hardly ever smiled, and now she was like a beauty queen or something.
    It wasn’t fair. I wanted her to be happy, but it wasn’t fair.
    I wanted to be happy too, but how could I be?
    I was more confused now than ever. Most of me thought that Mom didn’t know what she was saying. But then there was this small part of me—a tiny part, really—that asked, What if I was wrong? What if my mom was right?
    I kicked a