"I think G-d must be tired of the same prayers," Wyatt said casually to his mother in law. Frances Elizabeth grinned with a raised eyebrow and said that it was possible. Wyatt was not satisfied with her casual agreement and continued to illustrate his point. "Just consider for a moment, everybody's saying the Lord's prayer and the Hail Mary on the Christian side. Just imagine what it would be like to get the same messages or calls on your cell over and over again. It would drive you to distraction after even just a few minutes. I, for one would certainly turn off my phone."

Frances Elizabeth realized that Wyatt was waiting for a response and told her son in law, "You are thinking of this the wrong way. G-d isn't like a person picking up a call, he already knows everything before the prayer is placed.

Her argument seemed to settle Wyatt for the moment. Frances Elizabeth reached for her tea and held the cup a second or two before taking a sip. She'd always had her doubts about her daughter's choice for a husband, but as the oolong flavor eased down her throat she thought 'dear me, how undignified this Wyatt is to have such untamed thoughts,how could G-d ever get tired of prayer? I hope Caroline gets here soon.'

Wyatt searched his watch to find how many minutes past the hour had elapsed. "Caroline must have got stuck in traffic," he concluded aloud. Frances Elizabeth hummed gently and hastened the teacup back onto the coffee table. She picked up the latest issue of The Star and started to browse its thin, slippery pages, making it clear that the moment for conversation had passed. Wyatt walked over to the window and wondered how much longer he would have to wait there with his wife's mother.

Outside, shade was spreading and the early, stray leaves of autumn were being led in a silent dance by the nonchalant breeze that stepped through the house-lined boulevard. Light was fading from the skies and a couple of cars moseyed past the avenue. "I'm going on the porch for a smoke," he said without loaning his gaze in her direction. He heard a page turn just before heading through the door.

The cigarette rested easily in his right hand. The wind played
through his hair and he thought 'dear me, it's impossible to have a conversation with Caroline's mother. How can anyone be so unwilling to explore a simple theory. I hope she gets here soon.'

As Wyatt took another drag from his smoke, Frances Elizabeth put The Star down and reached for the phone. Her perfectly manicured hand, still sporting the engagement ring that Caroline's father had presented to her at their high school prom, pressed the numbers that would connect her to her very good friend Jeannette.

"Hi, Jeannette. Oh, no nothing like that. It's just that Wyatt's got me all mixed up in thought. Well, he has this idea that G-d's tired of hearing people use the same prayers all the time. Well, yes, I thought of that - but I told him it's not like G-d's a telephone operator. Exactly. The thing is he has a point, you see. I remember when Caroline started going to school and she'd come home with so many questions, one after the other, it used to get me so grumpy. No, I know G-d's not the grumpy type. That's funny, listen Jeannette, I will call you back, I hear him at the door."

Wyatt walked back in and noticed that Frances Elizabeth had been on the telephone. "Was that Caroline," he questioned from the entrance? His mother in law coughed dryly twice before saying, "No, I was just on with Jeannette. We're preparing the details to start a book club." Wyatt leaned into the settee and said, "Those things are difficult. You need the right kind of people." Frances Elizabeth got up from her armchair and replied, "Oh, goodness, Wyatt, must you always be so pessimistic," as she journeyed to the kitchen to kindle another cup of oolong. Wyatt struggled not to raise his voice in response and rejoined, "It's not pessimism, it's just a fact that book clubs are difficult to maintain."

As Frances Elizabeth vanished into the brightness of her kitchen, Wyatt pulled out his mobile unit and hit the memory key to contact his tardy spouse. The start of Caroline's message flickered in his right ear and for a split second he considered leaving a pleading entry but it was only a twinkling and he deployed the electronic device back into its resting place.

Inside the kitchen, the microwave spun the Pyrex container where the tea sizzled, Frances Elizabeth waited with the thought that it would not be a bad idea to start a book club. She would bring it up, when she spoke to Jeannette again. The appliance tootled and she transferred the container to the smooth wood of the countertop. Traipsing to fetch the cup that emptily kept the periodical company, she found that Wyatt had once again ventured onto to the porch for another puff.

Indeed, Wyatt was slowly pacing the weatherworn planks almost
ignoring the gasper he'd lit to distract from the anticipation of Caroline's arrival. Frances Elizabeth settled herself into the comfort of her armchair and waited a few heartbeats for the steam to dissipate from the drink. She considered returning to the conversation with Jeannette, but determined that it would be best to wait until Caroline had come for Wyatt and they were well on their way.

A gallivanting motorcycle seethed down the street. Wyatt was leaning upon the end side of the verandah, his thoughts beseeching Caroline's awaited moorage. The cigarette steadily burning as the shade of evening branched upon the quiet town. Frances Elizabeth was still entertaining her second cup of tea. Her neat hand reaching for the remote unit. The screen sliding itself into view, worlds of channels at her availability, but she was only interested in one program. A few houses down the road, Jeannette was settling in to her love-seat to watch the same show, her thoughts entertaining how to pray to G-d in new ways.