Orchard of Hope

by Ann H. Gabhart

  “Don’t you like being home with us?”

  “No, I like visiting you.”

  “But you don’t even have a telephone up there to call somebody if you needed something.” As Wes peered over at her, she added, “I mean, I might think that might be a problem if I was a worrywart.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you aren’t one of them things ’cause I ain’t getting no telephone, but no need worrywarting about that now. I promised your daddy I’d stay at Brooke Central Station till after I go to the doctor. Besides, I got more interesting news.”

  “News?”

  “Breaking news on the romance front.”

  “Have you been talking to Zella?”

  “No, I’ve been witnessing progress.”

  “Between Dad and Leigh?” Jocie asked.

  “That’s the romance I’m talking about. Your daddy has asked her to supper.”

  “Not some kind of church supper? He asked her out on a real date?”

  “No church anything. He not only asked her out, he gave her a kiss when she said she’d go.”

  “How do you know all this?” Jocie frowned a little, not sure she should believe him.

  “I was there. Witnessed it all firsthand.” Wes raised his right hand up as if swearing himself in to tell the truth.

  “That’s scary,” Jocie said.

  “Scary? Why scary?”

  “I don’t know. It just is. My dad kissing a girl right out in front of somebody.”

  “Well, I was pretending to be snoozing, but a Jupiterian can see right through his eyelids. A handy trick sometimes.”

  Jocie laughed. It was so good having Wes acting like his old self. And while she couldn’t quite imagine her father kissing Leigh, it didn’t bother her that he had. “Don’t tell Zella. She’d never get over you knowing about the first kiss before she did.”

  “I ain’t got no way of knowing if it’s the first kiss. It’s just the first one I saw.”

  “The first what you saw?” Jocie’s father asked as he came back in the pressroom with a carton of soft drinks.

  “Newspaper press,” Wes said and winked at Jocie. “I never had nothing to do with a newspaper press till I came to Hollyhill. Of course I’d tinkered around with lots of other machines like spaceships and motorcycles.”

  “A newspaper press is probably a piece of cake after spaceships,” Jocie’s father said as he flipped off the tops of a couple of the soft drinks with the bottle opener and handed them to Wes and Jocie. “You think you’ve got the thing so it’ll make the run Tuesday?”

  “Shh! Don’t be calling Betsy Lou a thing,” Wes said.

  “Betsy Lou?”

  “Wes named the press. Betsy Lou. It kind of fits,” Jocie told her father.

  “I don’t care what it’s called as long as it spits out papers.”

  “She will,” Wes said. “She’ll be ready to roll come Tuesday.”

  “Why don’t you come back then too, Wes?” Jocie said. “You can boss me and Noah around. Make us work faster.”

  “Be okay with me if I just stayed here till then,” Wes said.

  “After the doctor. I thought we agreed,” Jocie’s father said.

  “Yeah, but I think I can get up there to my place today to give it a lookover.”

  It wasn’t easy, but Wes made it up the stairs on his crutches. He was sweating and out of breath at the top, but still on one foot. He hadn’t had to sit down and scoot up. Jocie unlocked the door and opened it up. “It feels like an oven in here,” she said as they stepped inside.

  “It feels like an oven outside,” Wes said.

  “Maybe, but it’s still hotter in here. After you go to the doctor, I’ll come up and air it out and clean up a little for you,” Jocie said.

  “I thought you hated to sweep and dust,” Wes said.

  “I do, but I’m still good at it. I’ve had lots of practice.”

  “And she won’t mind doing it for you,” Jocie’s father said. “When you’re able to come home. In fact, it looks like maybe she’s already started.” He picked up a broom sitting next to the door.

  “That looks like the old broom out of the pressroom, but I didn’t bring it up here,” Jocie said. “All I’ve done is come get books and clothes. Besides, you’ve got a broom somewhere up here already, don’t you, Wes?”

  “In the closet over there,” Wes said. “Don’t use it much, but it’s there.”

  Jocie’s dad held the broom up. “Well, that’s a mystery then. Maybe Zella came up here to clean up the place as a surprise.”

  “Zell? Up here?” Wes said. “That wouldn’t be a surprise. That would be a catastrophe.”

  “And I don’t think whoever brought it up here used it. Look at this cobweb,” Jocie said as she took a swipe at a spiderweb hanging down from the light.

  “As I said, a mystery. Whoever heard of anybody breaking into a place just to leave a broom?” Jocie’s dad said.

  “You think we should take a picture and run the story in the Banner?” Wes said. “Come on, Jo. Think up a headline.”

  “‘Broom thief strikes again.’”

  “Again? I didn’t know he struck the first time, and he didn’t steal a broom. He left a broom,” Wes said.

  “Okay. How about ‘Witch from Jupiter flies in. Forgets broom,’” Jocie said.

  “So how did the old hag fly out? You’re gonna have to come up with something better than that,” Wes said.

  “Maybe she’s still hiding in here waiting to jump out at you when you move back in,” Jocie said.

  “Now that could be,” Wes said. “But is it newsworthy?”

  “It might make the paper on Halloween.” Jocie’s dad laughed. “But I don’t think news is that slow this week. We may just keep the broom mystery out of the Banner.”

  25

  As she drove to Grundy, Leigh decided not to tell her mother anything about her date. At least not until later, maybe next week when she talked to her on the phone. It would just be easier that way. Leigh wouldn’t have to defend her attraction to David, and her mother wouldn’t have to strain her brain thinking up reasons Leigh shouldn’t be attracted to him.

  The first ten minutes of the visit went okay. Her mother met her at the door with a hug and a smile, in spite of the fact that Leigh was a half hour late for lunch. Her father was even still there. Leigh wasn’t sure whether he had put off his golf game to see her or to get in on the food. Her mother had fixed her special chicken salad with pecans and celery and grapes on homemade bread with Leigh’s favorite brand of potato chips and banana pudding for dessert. Her father tolerated Leigh’s hug for a couple of seconds before he pulled free and said, “Let’s dig in.”

  Leigh sat down at her usual spot at the table and looked at the potato chips with dismay. She’d told her mother she was trying to quit eating potato chips, but that was hard to do when the chips were staring her in the face. But she wasn’t at one of the Mt. Pleasant Church women’s houses. She could ignore the way her mouth could almost taste the salty chips and just eat the chicken salad.

  She took a piece of bread and then looked up at her father. “Have you been feeling better this week, Dad? Mother said you weren’t feeling well last week.”

  She couldn’t see anything different about him. His hair might be a little thinner on top since the last time she’d really looked at him. His tan scalp was peeking through his gray hair. And his nose had been sunburned one time too often this summer. But other than that, he looked the picture of health for a man in his sixties. There was obviously no problem with his appetite the way he was putting together a six-inch-thick sandwich.

  Actually, it was her mother who didn’t look all that well. Her face was red, and she was panting a little just from the short walk through the house to the kitchen. The summer heat had always been hard on her. Leigh took a quick look at her mother’s ankles as her mother sat down and scooted her chair up to the table. They were puffed up and lapping over on the edges of her shoes. That mad
e Leigh feel what she knew would be the first of many guilt twinges. Her mother had no doubt been on her feet all morning fixing the chicken salad and banana pudding.

  Her father looked at Leigh over his sandwich. “Oh, you know your mother. She makes a mountain out of every molehill. I’m fine.”

  “Now, Peter, I don’t do any such thing. And you are not,” Leigh’s mother said. She looked at Leigh. “He was practically in bed all last week.”

  “Just a few twinges in my back. It’s not like that’s anything new,” Leigh’s father said. “You know how my back is.”

  “Oh,” Leigh said. “Is it better now?”

  “It will be after a few rounds of golf,” her father said.

  “Isn’t it awfully hot out on the golf course?” Leigh spread some chicken salad on her bread. “This looks delicious, Mother.”

  “Never too hot to play golf. I’ll rent a cart. And nobody ever said your mother wasn’t a great cook. She just needs to learn not to eat everything she cooks.”

  Leigh winced and tried to think of some way to change the subject, but she wasn’t quick enough. Her mother rose right to the challenge. “There you go talking about my weight again. You could eat a horse and never gain an ounce, but not everybody can be that lucky. The way you talk, you’d think I wanted to be heavy, when heaven knows I have to pay the price for it every day. A person could hope her own husband would try to be a little more understanding.”

  “Oh, I understand plenty. I understand that you’re the one shoveling the food in,” he said through a mouthful of sandwich.

  Leigh’s mother stared down at her plate. Leigh held in a sigh. It was the same old dance her parents had been doing for years. Any minute now her mother might break out in tears or she might go pitch her sandwich in the trash can or who knew what new scene she’d come up with since Leigh had been there last. When Leigh was younger, she had always jumped into the middle of the act with assurances to her mother of how beautiful she was in spite of the extra pounds, or by defending her mother to her father. That usually made her father turn his attack on Leigh. Now Leigh simply wanted it to be over. She tried pretending she hadn’t heard either of them. “How’s your golf game, Dad? Are you beating par down at the course?”

  “I’ve cut a stroke off my score,” he said. “How about you? You playing much now?”

  One summer while Leigh was in high school, her father had tried to teach her how to play golf. She had been so horrible at it he’d given up on her after a few unpleasant Saturday mornings, but ever since then they had kept up the pretense that she still played. Mostly just to have something to talk about. “No. There’s no golf course over in Hollyhill.”

  Leigh was breathing a little easier as she took a bite of her sandwich, thinking they might have scooted around the fat scene. She should have known better. Her mother was determined to play it out.

  “How can you sit there and talk to your father about golf after the horrible things he just said to me?” Her mother glared at her. “Don’t you care about me at all? And why aren’t you eating any potato chips?”

  It seemed easiest to ignore the first two questions and just answer the last one. “I told you, Mother, I’m laying off chips right now for a while.”

  “But I bought them especially for you. They are still your favorite brand, aren’t they?”

  “I appreciate that, and they do look delicious.” Leigh couldn’t believe her mother was making her feel guilty for not eating potato chips.

  “Leave her alone, Catherine,” Leigh’s father said. “Maybe she’s trying to lose weight.”

  “I have lost weight,” Leigh said. Had her father not even looked at her when she came in? Everybody in Hollyhill had noticed she’d lost weight. Surely her own parents could see the difference in her.

  “Well, that’s good to hear. It’s certainly none too soon,” her father said as he took another handful of chips. “You ready to serve that banana pudding, Catherine? I’ve got to get out of here. The guys will think I’m not coming and tee off without me.”

  “Sit still, Mother. I’ll get it,” Leigh said as she jumped up. She dipped her father a big helping of the still warm banana pudding and sat the dessert dish in front of him. “How about you, Mother? Are you ready for dessert?”

  “Dip her out about twice this much,” Leigh’s father said. “I’m sure she thinks she needs the extra calories.”

  “I work all morning cooking something special for you, and this is the thanks I get,” Leigh’s mother said.

  Leigh had had enough. “All right, already! Do you two do this all the time, or do you just save it all for when I’m here?”

  “Do what?” her father said.

  “This.” Leigh threw out her hands toward them in exasperation.

  “Oh, don’t get your drawers in a twist, Leigh. Your mother knows I’m just picking on her a little.” He spooned into the pudding. “You outdid yourself, Catherine. This is delicious.”

  “Why, thank you, Peter,” Leigh’s mother said as if she’d never been the least bit upset with him.

  Leigh counted slowly to ten before she carried the other two dessert dishes to the table for her and her mother.

  “You didn’t get much.” Her mother peered at Leigh’s dish as she picked up her spoon. “If you have to starve yourself to get a man to like you, then he’s not worth having to begin with.” She slid a heaping spoonful of pudding into her mouth.

  “I’m not starving, Mother. I’m just cutting back on how much I eat. Don’t you think I look better?”

  “I’m sure you’re not a bit worried about what I think. It’s that preacher you’re worried about. I hear you haven’t been at the First Baptist Church for weeks.”

  “I haven’t been missing church.” Leigh looked at the clock over the stove. She’d been there forty-five minutes. It felt more like forty-five hours. How in the world had she kept her sanity living in this house for twenty-seven years? Leigh took a slow breath and reminded herself that they were her parents and she loved them. She took a bite of her dessert.

  “Is he a good preacher?” her mother asked.

  “Is who a good preacher?” Leigh’s father asked as he finished off the last of his banana pudding and stood up.

  “Leigh’s boyfriend. I told you she was chasing after this preacher over there in that town where she lives now.”

  “A preacher, you say. Do preachers play golf?” Leigh’s father almost looked interested for a minute.

  “Some of them do, I’m sure,” Leigh said. “But David doesn’t.”

  “Too bad.” Her father glanced at his watch. “Well, I got to get going. Good seeing you, Leigh. Don’t stay away so long next time.”

  “I was just here last Saturday.”

  “Did I see you then?”

  “No, you’d already left for the golf course.”

  “Oh, well. You catch that preacher, you bring him around and introduce us.”

  “Sure,” Leigh said. “If you promise to behave.”

  “Why? Is he the extra-preachy kind? One of those preachers who thinks you’ve committed a cardinal sin if you miss church even one Sunday to get a good tee time at the course?”

  “I don’t know. The subject has never come up, Dad,” Leigh said with a smile. “But you’d like him. You both would if you gave him a chance.” Leigh looked at her mother.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” her mother said after Leigh’s father went out the door. “I haven’t got a thing against your preacher.” She paused a minute before adding, “Except, of course, that he’s too old for you. And that he already has a family. Two daughters with a grandchild on the way. Not many people even consider having more family once they have a grandchild. Having more children, I mean. You just need to think about that, Leigh. Don’t you remember how much you used to talk about wanting to have babies?”

  “I was younger then, Mother. And David’s not too old to have children if he wanted to.” Leigh couldn’t believe it. Here she was c
onsidering the possibility of having children with David again. Maybe it would be better if she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and focused on the fact that they were having their first date. Ten dates from now, or twenty, would be time enough to find out what David thought about having more children. She knew how he loved the children he had. That was enough for her right now.

  “I suppose that is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Does he want to? Does he even want you chasing after him? Most men would rather do the chasing.”

  “You’re probably right, Mother.” Leigh stood up and started scraping up the dishes.

  Leigh would be agreeable, let her mother be right about everything for the rest of the visit. Three or four hours wasn’t too long to give her mother. Her mother had given a lot to her over the years, and Leigh knew she loved her. She had just never accepted that Leigh might grow older and into a different life than the one her mother had planned for her. Still, how could Leigh be too upset about anything today with the memory of David’s hug and kiss and the promise of their date in a few hours dancing through her mind? She needed to concentrate on her blessings and not the minor irritations of life. Her mother was both of those. A blessing and an irritation, but surely Leigh could let the irritations slide off her and embrace the blessing of her mother’s love.

  They spent the afternoon in the living room where the window air-conditioning unit her father had bought last summer kept the air nice and cool. They drank iced tea and talked about how hot it was outside and whether the heat was going to dry up all her mother’s petunias. They talked about Aunt Wilma and how she spoiled her grandchildren until surely Aunt Wilma’s ears were burning. Her mother caught her up on the news about the people at her church. Leigh promised to go with her mother one night if the church had a fall revival. She sidestepped promising to come for a Sunday service.

  It wasn’t until four o’clock, when Leigh said she’d have to leave, that her mother got her wounded look on her face again. “But I thought you’d stay till after dinner. I baked a ham last night.”