by Vella Munn
She tried to tell him that his grandmother wouldn’t appreciate having an unexpected guest, but he explained that kind of thing had been a regular occurrence when three generations lived together. Besides, Grandma always went overboard when it came to stews.
“I still can’t—what can I bring? Maybe something for dessert?”
“That’s Mom’s department. My guess is whatever it is will include cherries. She goes a little nuts with canning during harvest time. They both like wine.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. White, not sweet.”
“Oh.” She still sounded hesitant.
“I’ll give Grandma and Mom a heads-up that you’re providing the libation. Unless you’ve found a rental, I think you need to join us.”
“That’s what this call is about? Nothing else?”
Her voice had lowered as she asked the two questions. The thought of being with her again, of her standing inside the home that had seen him transition from child to man impacted him in ways he couldn’t explain. He wondered if he’d ever visit her childhood home. And if he did, would it tell him anything about her?
“Are you interested in her?” Grandma asked. “Didn’t she just get to town?”
“She’s been here the better part of a week, but I only recently met her.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
Two of the four most important women in his life were in the small kitchen with a newly replaced vinyl floor and cupboard doors they’d sanded and painted. The aroma that always made his mouth water filled the air and steamed the window over the sink. He’d updated the electrical and put air conditioning in the bedrooms, but the kitchen needed a full gut to make it worthy of Grandma and Mom’s culinary talents.
“What do you mean by interested?”
“You know what I’m saying. Do you want to rattle her bones?”
Some of Grandma’s sayings were amusing, some shocking. None were boring. “I don’t know her well enough to ask.”
“But you’re more than willing to do the rattling if she gives you the thumbs-up, right.”
“I’m not going to answer that. She should be here any moment.” He glared at his grandmother. “I’d like to have you promise you’ll behave yourself around her, but that’s asking too much, right?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I try.”
“Most of the time you succeed. I’m going to change my clothes. Mom, I’m guessing you’re responsible for getting the ladder in place. Thanks.”
“I wanted to make sure the base is level. The last thing we need is our son suing us because he got hurt on the job.”
Despite his mother’s lighthearted comment, they knew where her caution came from. After hugging the women, he carried his workout bag containing the jeans and shirt he intended to wear this evening into his old bedroom. Grandma and Mom had turned the room into space for their sewing and quilting, but his bed, buried under fabric was still next to the window. Past and present were woven together in here, more past than present for him. This was where he’d dreamed of becoming a champion rodeo rider, where he’d done his homework, where he’d snuck in the girlie magazines Mom had found, looked at, and returned to him.
“I can’t tell you a lot of what you need to know about being a man,” she’d said. “I can see what’s happening on the surface but not your head and heart. One thing, I’m not going to stand in the way of you educating yourself about what becoming a man’s about. Let your body speak to you. Enjoy it. At the same time, I want you to always keep in mind that the women you date and have sex with are other women’s daughters. Treat your girlfriends the way you want men to treat your sisters.”
Mom was one of the wisest women he’d ever known. She’d learned from her mother.
The doorbell, sounding crisp, rang. The last time he’d heard it, it had sounded as if it was shorting out. Obviously Mom or Grandma had replaced the old one. He finished tying his boots and exited the room. By the time he reached the kitchen, Amber was standing in it. Changing it with her presence. Disrupting his heartbeat. No wonder he’d kissed her.
She was taller than his grandmother and a fraction shorter than his mother. She looked around as if making a memory of what she was seeing. Her slacks and still-crisp blouse stood in contrast to the older women’s jeans and T-shirts. Judging by her half smile, she was nervous. At least she was here, and he was better off not getting too close to her.
“You’re a hell of a lousy host,” Grandma said. “Disappearing when you knew our guest was about to show up. Nothing for us to do but introduce ourselves and make nice.”
“And this, Amber,” he said, “is my grandmother, Bea. What do you think?”
Amber indicated the wine bottle in Grandma’s hand. “I think she and I have the same taste in fermented grapes. She says that’s her favorite kind.”
Before he could respond, Grandma aimed the bottle at him. “Don’t you say a word. I know what you’re thinking, that I’ve never not liked what comes from grapes, but it isn’t true.” She again faced Amber. “I understand how vital it is to drink in moderation.”
“Are you talking about Garret’s father?” Amber asked.
Surprised by her decision to get right to the point, he explained that he’d told her a little about the man he usually referred to as the sperm donor.
“You did?” Grandma asked. “Amber, usually that man is a closed subject here.”
Amber frowned. “I said something I shouldn’t have?”
“No, not at all.”
So far his mother hadn’t said anything, but the way she divided her attention between him and Amber told him that she was looking for vibes. His mother was like that, intuitive and perceptive. He’d ended more than one relationship because the girl of the moment had admitted his mother made her uneasy. In the aftermath of those relationships, even the one he’d had with Carole, his mother had simply said he’d made the right decision. It was too soon to speculate about what Mom would think of Amber, but she was getting started.
He had no doubt about his reaction to Amber, which right now was mostly carnal. So much for telling himself he had a handle on his libido where she was concerned.
“I love your front porch,” Amber said. “I’ve always wanted one big enough for several people to sit with room left over for plants.”
“My ex, Garret and the girls’ father, insisted it wouldn’t last, but we keep shoring it up,” his mother said. “Right before it starts freezing, I haul the plants inside and place them under the windows. Looks like a jungle.”
As Grandma engaged the cork puller, Amber asked about several of the plants. She’d acknowledged him with a nod and smile, but her attention was focused on the women. Her pensive expression reminded him of his mother’s when she was taking stock of someone. Her features relaxed as she steadied the wine glasses while Grandma poured.
“It smells heavenly,” she said after clinking glasses. “Garret told me you used elk meat.”
“Of course,” Mom said as Garret took one of the beers they kept on hand for him out of the refrigerator. “This batch is compliments of my mother’s boyfriend.”
“Gentleman caller, not boyfriend.” Grandma corrected. “In case you don’t know, Amber, that’s what they were called back in my day.”
Amber laughed. “What about suitor?”
“No way.” Grandma vigorously shook her head. “Suitors want to get married, and I have no intention of jeopardizing my retirement income by signing any papers. As long as he doesn’t overtalk politics and has most of his teeth, I’ll keep him around. He doesn’t do heights. That’s why we’re bribing Garret with a home-cooked meal.”
Amber frowned, prompting him to explain he intended to replace the cracked bricks on the chimney’s north side. He had the necessary bricks and mortar and hoped to get the repairs done tonight. However, a man couldn’t work on an empty stomach.
He was
surprised by her interest in chimney repair but didn’t mind explaining the process as the four ate at the kitchen table with him sitting semi-safely across from her. She dug into her bowl of elk and every vegetable Grandma could cram into the pot. When she complimented the cook, he had no doubt she meant it. She wanted to know how the meat was handled, what produce was in the garden, what his mother thought of her job at the library, how long it had taken to replace the kitchen floor, and whether painting the cupboards was as labor intensive as it sounded.
She fixed her gaze on whoever was talking and casually wiped at a drop of stew that landed on her blouse. She answered questions about her schooling and the job she’d had before this one. He noted she didn’t mention her parents or brothers.
She occasionally glanced at him, but he couldn’t guess what she was thinking. When Mom explained that Grandma and she along with several other local women made quilts for children in foster care, Amber begged to see what they were working on. Grinning, Grandma grabbed Amber’s wrist, pulled her to her feet, and led her into his bedroom with him bringing up the rear. Out of respect for his family, he’d never brought someone he was seeing in here. The room didn’t belong to him anymore, not really, but something about Amber being in it took him back in time to when it had.
“I always wanted a house with larger bedrooms, especially for the girls because they shared one,” Mom said as Amber examined a partly finished blue and white quilt, “but having four bedrooms was more important than size. Besides, this is all we could afford after the divorce. Do you have a sister and if so did you share a bedroom with her?”
Still holding the quilt, Amber explained that she had two older brothers.
“Then you were outnumbered, just like Garret was,” Mom said. “I was relieved when he and Hunter—you’ve met him haven’t you?—became close. Over time I came to think of Hunter as another son. Garret, did you tell her about William?”
“A little.”
“He was a wonderful man, sharing so much of what he knew about the wilderness. He knew Garret needed a male influence. I think William deserves credit for my son becoming a ranger.”
“I wish I could have met him. It sounds as if he did more guiding than pushing.”
“Pushing?” Grandma frowned. “That’s an interesting word to use.”
Amber pressed her lips together. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
“But you did.”
As she gnawed on her lower lip, he wished he could protect her from having to answer. A delicate, feminine-looking woman like her deserved a cotton-wrapped world—except when she was between the sheets with him.
“My parents’ idea of preparing their children for adulthood was presenting us with a list of achievements we were expected to reach or even better exceed.”
“What happened if you didn’t?”
“Let’s just say they never downplayed their disappointment.”
“Did they withhold affection?”
Amber rubbed the side of her neck. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” his mother said. “Sorry it happened and that you’re being forced to relive something you obviously want to forget. What we need to talk about is whether to have dessert now or after Garret’s done.”
“Let’s wait,” Garret said. Much as he loved his mother’s cooking, it was time to do everything he could to end this conversation. Later he’d apologize for Grandma’s probing. Ask Amber to forgive him for the role he’d played.
The extension ladder Garret was on wobbled, prompting Amber to join Garret’s mother in supporting it. Having him overhead made him almost larger than life. It was as if he had no interest in gravity and other things normal people did. Just what she needed, more that set him apart.
“Long as he’s been around,” Laura said, “you’d think I’d be used to his antics, but boys are different from girls, more reckless.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t say that. Meri and Liana have given me their share of gray hairs. What I’m saying is, there’s a definite difference between the sexes. You’ll understand once you have children.”
Laura seemed more circumspect than Grandma Bea. The contrast between the two women fascinated Amber who asked how long mother and daughter had lived together as adults. Ever since Bea’s husband died a few months after Garret’s father had taken off. Back then, Laura explained, the women had worked different shifts so one of them was always home for the girls.
“We should have spent more time trying to corral Garret,” Grandma Bea who was sitting nearby in a lawn chair said. “How many times did he miss curfew?”
“You knew where I was.” Garret spoke from where he was working.
“Sure we did. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere while that crazy man tried to get you and Hunter lost.”
“He was pretty successful at first.”
Laura shook her head. “Probably more times than you ever told us about.”
“Could be. Mom, Grandma, I haven’t told you why I invited Amber to join us.”
Her head tilted, Laura winked at Amber. “Now that we’ve met her, I’m pretty sure we can put one and one together.”
“Not that.” Whatever Garret was doing caused chips of cement to occasionally hit the ground. She didn’t risk looking up at the taut buttocks encased in denim. “Darn it, I should have shown her the girls’ room. This ladder isn’t going anywhere. How about you take her inside?”
Nervous, Amber looked at Laura who shook her head.
“We aren’t going anywhere,” Laura said. “What do you have in mind?”
In between fitting new bricks into the space where old ones had been, Garret explained about her need for housing. His voice drifted down, warming and confusing her at the same time. His sisters’ room wasn’t being used, but the two single beds and the large dresser they’d shared were still in there. His mother and grandmother could settle on a reasonable amount to charge her for rent. There was even room for her vehicle in the carport.
She could stay with Garret’s mother and grandmother, see him every time he came here in addition to all those hours at the office. Her parents wouldn’t think much of the old house they’d insist she send pictures of, but would point out that a room would cost less than renting an apartment or house. They’d caution her not to get close to her landladies, to frequently change her laptop’s password, to put a lock on the door, to keep her food separate from the others’, to make it clear to Garret that the arrangement didn’t include him thinking he could make moves on her.
Her parents weren’t here. The decision was hers.
“Think about it,” Garret said. “All three of you.”
Laura nudged Amber. “What do you think?”
“I should ask you and Bea that question.”
“I need to think about it.”
“So do I.”
The chimney repair took less than an hour. By then it was definitely chilly. Garret’s shirt looked as if he’d sprinkled flour on it, and his hands were scratched. If he was sore from clinging to the ladder, he gave no indication. She sighed in relief when his feet reached the ground then stepped back so he could lower the ladder. Now, hopefully, she could relax. Think of something other than him.
“That’s great,” Bea said. “Amber, there’s almost nothing more important than a chimney that doesn’t leak.”
Because she wasn’t in a position to comment, she watched as Garret helped his grandmother stand. He kept his hand around her waist until she’d taken a couple of steps.
“Do you want to curse your hip or should I?” he asked.
“I don’t need your help on that score,” the older woman said. “Not long ago I was scrambling around on the roof.”
Garret looked over his grandmother’s head and winked at Amber. The simple but intimate gesture added to her goose bumps. As his relatives headed inside, he held out his hand, and she impulsively placed hers in it. Despite the chalky feeling, she was in no hurry to let go of him. He drew her to his side where warmth waited.
“I wish I had more time for chores like this,” he told her. “They hate asking for help in part because my place needs attention, but this is a lot for them to keep up.”
“You’re a good son and grandson.”
“Not perfect. Far from perfect.”
Wondering what made him say that, she tried to catch his eye, but he ignored the attempt. Saying nothing, they went inside. Announcing he’d be ready for some pie as soon as he’d washed up, he released her. Without him beside her, she felt a little lost. There was no logical explanation for him having an impact on every part of her being. Just because he was a hunk—
Maybe that was enough, for now.
Laura pulled a large pie with cherry juice oozing from it out of the oven. The aroma made Amber’s mouth water.
“Hopefully, you like cherries,” Laura said. “In fact, a taste for cherries is a requirement for living around here. Have you had a chance to take a look at the orchards? They’re amazing.”
Saying she’d driven past some but hadn’t yet stopped and admired the acres of ripening cherry trees, she barely resisted hanging over Laura’s shoulder as the older woman cut into her creation. The pie wasn’t a work of art, but Amber had never seen so much fruit under a crust.
“Do you like to cook?” Bea asked from where she’d settled herself at the table.
“I think I would if I spent more time at it.”
“Oh?” Laura frowned. “Your mom didn’t take you under her culinary wing when you were growing up? That’s one thing I made sure my girls could do.”
“Meal preparation wasn’t a priority when I was growing up. Because they were so busy, my parents had a cook come in several times a week and prepare meals we could heat. Either that or they ordered delivery.”
When no one responded, she glanced at Bea who was shaking her head.
“My parents were and still are devoted to their careers. That’s their priority.”
“Different strokes for different folks,” Laura said. “We aren’t criticizing, just surprised.”
Standing in a kitchen that had doubtless seen thousands of meals being prepared, Amber understood why Garret’s mother had said what she had. This was a woman who took pride in canning countless cherries and shared responsibility for a garden with her mother.
