white booties that Grace was wearing under her gown.
Erica followed Leah up the middle aisle to the front of the chapel where Rob had his daughter cradled in his arms, and Father Michael was waiting for the girls before he started the ceremony.
Erica stood next to Clay, taking his hand as they looked at Father Michael, who was quieting the congregation and talking about the history and importance of baptism in the Catholic Church. Clay leaned over and whispered,
Erica stiffened beside him, trying not to laugh, whispering back, “Shhh. We’re going to be godparents.”
“Good, we need the practice.”
“Shhh.” She hushed him, remembering how they had met, so similarly, standing up in front of another congregation pretending to be parents. Clay had tried the whole time to make her laugh with his sacrilegious jokes, and she had to hide her smiles by looking down at the baby in her arms.
It wasn’t until Erica saw baby Grace for the first time that she realized, the baby she’d been holding during the “live Nativity,” had been the Webbers’ youngest foster child, borrowed for the night by Father Michael, who had never seen baby Grace and didn’t recognize her either. Erica had been cradling Grace in her arms that night and didn’t even know it.
Clay and Erica said that yes, they were ready to take on the responsibility of being Grace’s godparents, and Father Michael went on with the ceremony, but Clay was clearly bored with the process and he kept whispering wicked things into Erica’s ear, trying to make her laugh.
“You are going to be in so much trouble when we get home,” she hissed, watching as Father Michael balanced Grace over the baptismal fountain and poured water through her thick, dark hair. The baby squealed but she didn’t cry.
“I christen thee Grace Patricia Nolan,” Father Michael said and Erica smiled at the way Leah had given her daughter their mother’s name, as well as Erica’s middle name. “May grace be with you and with us all, now and evermore. Amen.”
“Do you know why Mary was having sex with God for money?” Clay whispered too low for anyone but Erica to hear.
“Clay…” Erica warned softly, pleading at him with her eyes..
“She was just trying to make a little prophet.”
Erica snorted laughter and covered it with a cough, Father Michael looking at them sharply, and she straightened up and glared at her boyfriend, the future father of her children, and her future husband, once he stopped joking around long enough to propose. He grinned, rocking back on his heels, and she knew she was in for trouble with him, for the rest of her whole damned life.
And she couldn’t wait.
