The service is a beautiful celebration of the Lord’s sacrifice, saving work on the cross, and resurrection. It’s also much as I remember it—sure, the music has changed, but Mrs. Connoly still sits in the front with her purse on her lap, and while the Johnson family has doubled in number, they still tower over most of the congregation. Mom radiates pride at having all of us here. Afterward, she introduces April to everyone. She shakes hands and smiles at neighbors who remember her from high school.
After the service, we return home to find Easter basketswaiting for us. Mine has candy and a mini Lego set. April also has candy and a small succulent plant.
Even the dogs get one filled with toys and treats.
“This is so thoughtful,” April says, touched.
Mom says, “Clark mentioned once that you don’t have a green thumb. Succulents are low maintenance.”
April’s eyes are suspiciously shiny. “Thank you, Cheryl.”
“Oh, honey.” Mom pulls her into a hug, and I have to look away because the whole scene is making my chest tight. I happen to know that April’s mother doesn’t hug her.
By noon, the house starts filling with family friends and neighbors for the Easter celebration. Mom has outdone herself—ham, scalloped potatoes, three kinds of salad, rolls, cheesecake, carrot cake, and my personal favorite, rice crispy treats.
“April and Clark, can you two make the deviled eggs?” Mom asks, already on to the next task.
We move to the kitchen island without discussion and get right to work. I peel eggs while April prepares the filling. We don’t talk about it or plan it. We just do it.
“Done,” April announces fifteen minutes later, wiping her hands off on a dish towel.
“Already?” Claudia pokes her head in. “Wow, you two make a good team.”
We share a look. Claudia’s eyebrow raises, but she doesn’t comment as she takes the tray to the other room with all the appetizers and snacks.
“Are we supposed to be a bumbling new couple?” April whispers.
“If so, we probably should’ve taken longer.”
“Or is it like since we’re friends, we just kinda, like, you know?—”
I do know, but I’m not exactly sure how fake dating your best friend is supposed to work. In fact, I think it’s rare becauseit typically doesn’t work. It’s one of those doomed-to-fail things, which isn’t something I want to be thinking about.
Later, after an epic play session with the dogs to tire them out, my mom calls to us, “Can you two set the table, so it’s ready ahead of time?”
We do it in five minutes flat, moving around each other like we’re a stock team at a car rally.
Mom says, “April and Clark, you’ll sit together at the end.”
But we were already setting the little chalkboard place cards that she always pulls out for holidays in that exact spot because this is where we always sit when we’re here.
When we go back outside to mingle, my cousin Bart looks us over and asks, “Did you coordinate your outfits?”
April and I look down, then at each other. We’re both wearing variations of blue, but hers is more of a purple shade and mine is slightly gray. However, the pattern on my button-down picks up the periwinkle detail on her dress, and the stitching on it is almost an exact match to my slacks. We definitely didn’t plan that.
My cousin chuckles. “Oh, you two have this down. Next thing you know, you’ll be retired and wearing matching track suits.”
“Well, we do have his and her Knights merch—” April starts before trailing off.
Internal panic sets in. We’re supposed to be a new couple. Shouldn’t we be awkward and uncertain as we figure things out? Instead, we’re acting like we’ve been together for years.
Because I realize with alarm, we basically have been.
But what will April think of that? Ordinarily, we could play it off as a brother-sister thing, but I do not have sibling-like feelings for her. So how does this work?
Before brunch—or more accurately, “linner” since it’s past lunchtime but before dinner and my mother’s zeal andhospitality almost always make her run late—she insists on photos. Group shots first, then couple-adjacent shots where April and I hover near each other but not touching.
My mom says, “Oh, just you two! Real quick in front of the lilac tree!”
