Small-Town Moms by Janet Tronstad

doing.
    â€œOh, you’re not an interruption.” Mrs. Hargrove flipped through the tea bags in her basket trying to find the one she wanted. “In fact, I was just praying for you.”
    â€œMe?” Maegan squeaked. No one had ever prayed for her and, frankly, it made her nervous. Did that mean she had to do something to be sure the prayer was answered? She sure didn’t want to be responsible for someone losing their faith, especially not a sweet old lady like Mrs. Hargrove. But she didn’t have confidence any prayer for her would be answered.
    â€œOh, here it is.” The older woman grinned as she held up a bag with a midnight-blue tag on it. Then she turned to the stove. “Take a seat and I’ll get you a cup of water in no time at all.”
    Maegan carefully sat down at the table as far from the Bible as she could get. She looked up at the older woman to say something, but Mrs. Hargrove had her back turned and was looking for a cup on the shelf over the stove.
    Everything seemed normal, Maegan thought, so she relaxed and forgot the mild protest she had been going to make. But still it was only natural to want to know what Mrs. Hargrove was reading so she squinted and tried to see what part of the Bible the older woman was looking at. The text was upside down and too small for her to make it out. Which she took as a sign from God to mind her own business.
    â€œI’m reading the Psalms,” the older woman said without turning around or giving away by so much as a twitch that she knew Maegan had tried to see that for herself. “There’s a lot about relying on God in the Psalms.”
    â€œHmm,” Maegan said, hoping that was a sufficient answer. She stared out the window, figuring that would show she wasn’t really interested in the Psalms. In reality she wasn’t too sure what they were.
    â€œI was thinking,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she turned and walked back to the table. She set down a cup filled with hot water and laid the bag with the midnight tag beside it. She paused until Maegan grew curious enough to turn and look at her. Then the older woman continued, “King David and you have a lot in common.”
    â€œHuh?”
    Maegan’s open skepticism didn’t stop the older woman. She kept on talking. “He was a king back then. In fact, he was King Solomon’s father.”
    â€œOkay.” Now Maegan got the connection. She knew all about King Solomon. “You don’t have to worry. I don’t intend to abduct anyone. I want Lilly to be happy.”
    Maegan saw no reason to mention that she was prepared to take Lilly’s father to court and do everything she could legally to make her niece well-adjusted in the long run instead of the short.
    Mrs. Hargrove chuckled. “You’ve put everyone’s happiness first all your life. I know you’re not going to deliberately make Lilly unhappy.” The older woman’s eyes grew serious. “No, the reason you’re like King David is because you’re disappointed with God.”
    â€œI wouldn’t exactly say I am disappointed,” Maeganfinally had to admit. “I’m just more your usual ‘it doesn’t work for me’ kind of person. No harm, no foul. I mean, I believe to a point. I know God does things—”
    â€œJust not for you,” Mrs. Hargrove said in a matter-of-fact voice as she sat back down in her chair by the Bible.
    â€œI don’t blame God for that.”
    â€œWell, you should. If that was what He was doing. But He’s never ignored you.”
    Maegan snorted. Really, what did a person say when they couldn’t say anything without seeming impolite to a woman old enough to be their grandmother? But Mrs. Hargrove had it wrong. God had never done anything for Maegan Shay. If she wanted something done, she had to do it herself.
    Mrs. Hargrove seemed unruffled. “It’s not even God that you’re mad