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gulped down right after breakfast.

She settled in for the Palm Sunday service, complete with its retelling of how Jesus borrowed a colt and entered Jerusalem while the crowd waved palm branches in celebration. But Ella wasn’t quite prepared for Rev. St. Pierre’s sermon on the Gospel reading, because, as usual, he managed to turn the familiar story into some kind of new age, self-help message.

“Now, in our reading today,” the minister said in his deep baritone, “we’re told that Jesus came into the city and went to the temple, but He left because it was getting late. Did that mean it was late in the day? Or was Jesus running behind schedule for something? He was a celebrity that day, so it’s fair to wonder if He had parties to attend.”

Ella and several other parishioners stirred in their pews. The idea of Jesus attending a party wasn’t an image many of them had ever thought about.

“You know what?” the preacher continued. “I have a theory about why He left. I think it’s because He promised to return the colt He’d borrowed. Which is kind of interesting because, you know, everyone who’d celebrated His arrival would have forgiven Him for failing to return the colt. But that wouldn’t have been Him. Jesus let go of that celebrity in order to be true to Himself and to keep His promise to the colt’s owner.

“So what can we learn from this? Maybe it’s as simple as to be closer to God, we have to be true to our best selves, even on days that get busy or stressful. Even when there are roadblocks that keep us from being true to ourselves.

“Jesus gave up His celebrity because it was a false face of who He truly was. What do you need to give up? Guilt? Perfectionism? A grudge? Grief? The need for approval? Envy? We all carry around a lot of baggage that delays us, and the time is getting late.”

The preacher spoke for several more minutes, but Ella hardly heard another word he said because his sermon had penetrated to a place deep inside her. She stared up at the beautiful old stained-glass window behind the altar, and tears filled her eyes.

She’d been so utterly selfish over the last few days, while Mom was trying her best to stitch together a family. First, she’d wanted Dylan and Jim to disappear, then she’d picked a fight over a simple misunderstanding, and then…

Good god. She’d gotten drunk and kissed her soon-to-be brother. The guilt was enough to swallow her whole. But she couldn’t just jettison the guilt. To get rid of this burden, she would have to apologize.

*  *  *

Brenda stood in the church vestry, hanging her choir robes in the closet and trying not to chat about Rev. St. Pierre’s sermon. His talk today had evoked a lot of emotion that still sat heavy on her chest. Even now, her heart seemed to be jumping around in there.

No question about it, she needed to make some changes. Otherwise, she’d never become her best self or live the life she’d always wanted. And there was no time like the present to start.

She left the vestry and headed to the fellowship hall, where the ladies of the altar guild had coffee and snacks already laid out. She spied Momma and Ella standing together by one of the windows, and she made a beeline to them, bypassing Ashley Scott’s delicious coffee cake.

“Hey,” she said, coming to a stop before her daughter.

“Hi, Mom.” Ella met her gaze. “About yester—”

“I wanted to—”

They spoke at the same moment.

“You go first,” Ella said.

“Oh honey, I am so sorry about what I said yesterday. I don’t know what came over me. I could say it was stress, but…” She paused, letting her gaze drift to the windows. Outside, a heavy mist clung to the live oaks in the churchyard and left jewel-like beads of dew on the Spanish moss.

“Well, the thing is,” Brenda finally continued, “I know I’ve been hard on you sometimes. I mean…” She paused and shifted her gaze back to her daughter. “Well, I’m sorry about trying to force you to live the dream I screwed up years ago. Judging you because you refused to practice violin every moment of the day was just wrongheaded on my part, and I’m sorry. I’m going to try to be better, okay?”

Brenda didn’t know what to expect from Ella. But the smile that opened on her daughter’s face made the pressure in her chest ease a fraction. “You know,” Ella said, “I played for Ashley’s tea yesterday, and now I have a regular gig there. I played a lot of traditional Irish music, but the people really enjoyed the medley of Strauss waltzes I included in my set. I’d like to add a few more classical pieces to my repertoire. I was wondering if you could help me choose a few.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “I’ve decided to give up being afraid of making mistakes. Which is hilarious considering all the mistakes I’ve made in my life. I have no idea why I’m so afraid of a few wrong notes here and there.”

“Because of me,” Brenda said. “And I don’t want you to feel that way anymore.”

She opened her arms, and Ella stepped into them, giving her a fierce hug that opened her heart and made a different kind of future possible, if only for a moment.

“I accept your apology,” Ella said. “And I offer one of my own. I’m so sorry I made a scene yesterday. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do. It was me blaming you, when in fact the problem is Dylan. I forgive you, sweetie.”

Ella smiled. “There’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I was wondering if I could play for your engagement party.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Momma said, grinning.

Mother and daughter turned in her direction. “What?” they asked in near-unison.

“I think y’all should play something together, the way you sometimes did when you came to visit,” Momma said.

Brenda turned toward Ella to

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