Created In Fire (Art of Love Series) by Donna McDonald

occasionally, but not regularly. I see myself as spiritual, but I have never been a person to follow a traditional route in much of anything.”
    “I stopped going to church when I stopped going home. Now I go to both only when I have to, but I do miss it sometimes,” she said quietly, looking out the kitchen window as she turned and starting loading the dishwasher.
    “I can see how it fits a certain need for structure and ritual for people. I also think churches have a very unique physical energy in them. I really like older ones with stained glass windows, giant pipe organs, and loud choirs,” Michael said.
    “Really? Were you raised Baptist?” Carrie asked, thinking of one of the largest churches in Lexington where women wore beautiful dresses and hats, and men dressed in three piece suits. Their music was wonderful. Their smiles on Sunday were uplifting.
    “No. Mom and Dad were Lutheran,” Michael said. “Do you have a preference or abhorrence for any denomination?”
    Carrie snorted. “No. I don’t think it matters what a congregation has on the door. My immediate family is old fashioned Pentecostal. They still believe in women wearing long skirts, no makeup, and not cutting their hair. None of my siblings adhere to the appearance thing either, but they rebel discreetly for my parent’s sake. Anyone can see what a dismal failure I am about all that.”
    Michael grinned thinking of Carrie’s typically short hairstyles and her very nice fitting short skirts. Her look suited her well. It suited him well too.
    “You need to change your outlook, Carlene. It makes things more palatable. Tell me something wonderful about your family and their spiritual life.”
    “ Carlene isn’t talking to you about anything. Carrie might if you call her by the name she likes,” she told him, making Michael laugh again. It had been quite the weekend. “So think of something I like, huh? My mother and father used to have thankful contests. They were fun.”
    “ Thankful contests? What’s that?” Michael asked, going to the table and pulling up a chair so he could finish his beer and listen in earnest.
    “They mostly did them at the dinner table. My father would say my mother’s name loudly and then adamantly state something he was thankful for—could be anything. Then my mother would match him by adamantly stating something she was thankful for in reply. They ended up yelling things at each other from each end of the table before it was done. It sounded almost like fighting. The four of us would be laughing so hard we couldn’t eat while it was going on—even Kevin,” Carrie said, giving Michael a look that said believe-it-or-not. “Of course, Darla and Alison were really young then. I was maybe in middle school when they stopped.”
    “My rituals were all about major religious holiday. That one sounds pretty good,” Michael said. “Maybe we could try it sometime.”
    “Sure. Michael—I am so thankful my family is out of your house ,” Carrie said loudly, laughing at his broad smile as he tried to drink his beer around it.
    “Carrie, I’m so thankful you’re not sick right now,” Michael said, smiling and laughing.
    “Michael, I’m so thankful I was able to eat pizza for the first time in weeks,” Carrie told him, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and closing the door.
    “Carrie, I’m so thankful that that you did the dishes,” he said, knowing it was weak when she gave him a pitying look for his lack of imagination.
    “Michael, I’m so thankful you didn’t hit my brother back today when he deserved it,” Carrie told him. “He’s a jerk, but I think he’s finally starting to grow up.”
    “Carrie, I’m so glad that I was able to talk your father into walking you down the aisle,” he said proudly, figuring if Carrie could talk about today he could as well.
    “Michael—,” Carrie paused, looking directly at Michael, who was now staring at the ceiling.
    “I thought walking