Be Sweet

by Diann Hunt

  “Boston Baked Beans, Lemon Drops, candy necklaces—”

  “Wax lips, candy cigarettes.”

  Janni gasps. “We weren’t supposed to get those.”

  “They were my favorite. Sorry, Dad.”

  “Those were the days,” he says as though he didn’t hear a word we said.

  I decide to play along. “Remember how you used to throw us into the hay piles?”

  Dad’s mouth splits into a wide grin. “I sure do. Your mom would have a fit because she was always afraid there might be something in the hay to hurt you.”

  “What’s going on with Mom?” Janni asks, slipping out of her coat.

  Dad shakes his head. “I don’t know, girls. She’s acting so strange. I’ll look up from reading the paper, and she’ll be staring at me. When I go into another room, I feel her presence behind me. She peeks at me through cracks in the door, and has even followed me to town.”

  “What do you think it is, Dad?”

  He shakes his head. “I have no idea.” No one speaks of the fearful possibilities.

  “How long ago did it start?” Janni asks.

  “I started noticing a couple of weeks ago,” he says.

  The waitress brings a pot of coffee and places it on the table. Janni picks it up and starts filling her and Dad’s cups. I take a deep whiff. Even the cheap stuff smells good.

  “Why would she think you’re trying to kill her?” I ask.

  Dad’s head jerks up. “She thinks that?”

  “She mentioned something about rat poison,” Janni says, as though she hates to bring it up.

  It does seem a little odd that he would have rat poison next to the coffeepot, but our family is a little strange, after all.

  “I woke up from our nap before she did, so I thought I would surprise her with some coffee. I was trying a little multitasking. You know, take care of our recent mouse situation while fixing her some coffee. She took one look at the coffee, the rat poison, and drew the wrong conclusion. Is that what you’re saying?” Dad wraps his hands around the coffee cup and gazes into it. “She has to know I would never hurt her.” He looks up. “Maybe she’s just worn-out from our move and all.”

  As we settle in to breakfast, we try to encourage Dad and then talk about the good old days. When it’s time to leave, I pick up the tab, and we make our way out to our cars.

  “She’ll come around. Don’t you worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” I say. Janni nods in agreement. “And Dad?”

  He turns to look at me.

  “Get rid of the rat poison. I don’t want you accidentally putting it in your coffee.”

  “This car is awesome, Char,” Janni says, fiddling with the seat controls when we get in my car. “I can’t imagine riding in style like this on a regular basis.”

  “You get used to it.” With a flip of the handle, I click the turn signal in place, and we hang a left. “What do you think about Dad and the rat poison?”

  “Well, of course I don’t think he’s trying to kill Mom, but lately, he seems preoccupied, so I could see him putting the poison in her coffee without meaning to, and that scares me.”

  “Sounds as though they both have issues that we’ll have to iron out between now and their anniversary.” I sigh. “The stress of the party is enough without adding this.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Hey, I’m excited about your new coffee shop,” I say, pointing to the new building as we drive by.

  “Yeah, I guess. As you know, I enjoy my own coffee.”

  “I’ll have to convert you,” I say with a laugh.

  “Oh no, you don’t. We can’t afford it.”

  “Yes, you can, and you know it. You and Daniel carry that frugal thing too far. Sometimes it does a woman good just to get out of the house once in a while. Especially with all the extra company you have these days.”

  Janni sighs. “It does sound nice.”

  “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Just tired of being pulled in so many directions.” She flips down the visor, checks her makeup, then flips it back up. “I know it sounds selfish, but I’m ready to do something for me.”

  “We all need periods of refreshment. No one can fault you for that.”

  We drive a little further, and I spot a house for sale. “That looks nice and roomy,” I say with a nod toward the house.

  “You still spend Sunday afternoons going through open houses?” Janni asks with a chuckle.

  “I admit it. I love to walk through homes, get ideas for layouts, all that. Since I’ve gotten more into the commercial side of things, I don’t get to go through homes as much. I keep busy studying the markets, working with commercial buyers and sellers, all that.”

  “Ever the workaholic,” Janni says as we pull up to a stoplight.

  “I’m not a workaholic. I simply love what I do, so it doesn’t bother me to work overtime.”

  She shrugs. “Just think you would have more of a social life if you worked less.”

  “Moving commercial real estate takes hard work and time. It’s different than selling residential properties.” I’m hoping she’ll ask me more about it, but she doesn’t. Spotting our high school, it seems a good time to change the subject. “Wow, the old school sure needs a face-lift.”

  “Yeah, they’re starting renovations in the fall.”

  “That’s great,” I say, though I have to admit the chipped brick and gaudy graffiti fits my memories of high school. Flashes of homecoming, basketball games, Eddie, Linda . . . “So how are The Evil Friends?”

  Janni turns to me. “You still call them that?”

  “Doesn’t it still apply?”

  “Don’t know. I don’t run in their circles. Actually, I feel sorry for Linda.”

  “You feel sorry for everybody. How can you feel sorry for her after what she did to me?” I shoot back before I can stop myself.

  Janni looks at me. My face heats up ten degrees, and mad tears spring to my eyes.

  “You have to let it go, Char.”

  I turn my attention to the road. Obviously, I’ve been working too hard. My emotions always tell on me. “Look, I’m not the one who had the affair, okay? They conceived that baby during our marriage. Mine and Eddie’s marriage, Janni. I’ve let it go, but I can’t forget. She lured my husband away when I needed him most. And he willingly betrayed me. No one gets over that.” The words sting my soul as they leave my lips.

  Janni sighs. “Eddie has left a trail of broken hearts. He’ll regret it one day.”

  “I doubt it. Once a jerk, always a jerk.”

  Janni shakes her head. “An unforgiving heart and bitterness can do more harm to you than he and Linda ever did.”

  “Look, Janni, don’t preach to me. I’ve heard this business all my life. The truth is, I believe God is good, but people stink. Linda stole my husband. My chance for a family. I’m not bitter. It’s just a fact. She took my life and made it her own.”

  “It was wrong of her, but you have to forgive her.”

  “Who says I haven’t forgiven her?”

  “Have you?”

  “Hello? It’s not as though I’ve set out for revenge, have I?”

  “We all make mistakes, Char.” She turns to me. “All of us.”

  six

  “I wonder if this is how Daniel Boone felt blaz-ing a trail,” I say, shoving branches out of my way as we walk through the woods the next afternoon.

  Janni chuckles. “Maybe. Though I imagine his paths were not as easy to get through as ours.” We take a few steps in silence.

  “Did you get the menu ordered for the party?”

  “Had to. The time will be here before we know it.” Now that she’s grown used to the idea of a fancy party, there’s no use telling her I ordered the menu while I was still in Maine.

  “Still getting cards in the mail?” I ask, stepping over pinecones.

  “Yep. Almost daily. I think we’ll have a good crowd. Still think we could have done it in th
e church fellowship center. It would have been appropriate what with him being the pastor for so long.”

  “This isn’t a church matter. This is about their lives together as husband and wife. Hey, what happened over there?” I ask, pointing to some trees with severed branches on the ground below them.

  “We had a bad storm last fall and haven’t been down here to clean up yet. It always amazes me how nature can beat the trees up, but some-how they manage to survive.”

  We step around the debris. “We’ll just finish off these two rows of trees here,” she says, pointing. “They were the only ones Daniel and I didn’t get to on Saturday.”

  My fingers trail the rough bark of a tree. “Funny how they dry up during the winter.” Just like me—dried up. Used. At least that’s how I feel when I return to Tappery.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty amazing.”

  “Won’t be long until we’ll be eating pancakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” I say.

  “Mom probably wouldn’t like that any more than she appreciated the turkey dinner last night.”

  “Oh, you know Mom. She’s just a tad opinionated.” I laugh. A hole in the ground makes me wobble a moment, and I try not to think about the fact it could be a snake hole. The only thing that sets my mind at ease is in knowing the ground is still frozen, so they’re not likely to be slithering around outside. “Besides, she dug into those maple buns this morning like nobody’s business.”

  “And then complained about them after eating four.” Janni sighs.

  “You know, it amazes me that you and Daniel got so many trees tapped by yourselves.”

  “Some friends from the church helped. It shouldn’t take us long to finish up.”

  “You sure are blessed with people who love you.”

  “You know, we really are. Let’s start with this one,” Janni says, stop-ping at an old, sturdy maple. She studies the tree a moment, her fingers rubbing across the bark for the scar from last year’s drilling.

  “It’s cool how these trees heal themselves.”

  “How do you mean?” Janni lifts the gas-powered drill in place and bores a new hole about a half-inch wide.

  “You know, we drill a hole, then the following year, the only way we can find it again is by the smooth bark around it because the hole is already filled in.” I pull a spile—the metal spigot that’s used to tap maple from the trees—from my backpack, plug it into the fresh hole and ham-mer it into place. Then Janni attaches the metal top of the plastic bag onto the spile. She tugs at it a couple of times to make sure it’s secure.

  “Yeah, that’s true. It’s pretty cool, really.” She holds the drill against her left shoulder and marches to the next tree. “Don’t you miss this, Char?” She positions the drill for the next hole, and we go through the routine again.

  The tangy scent of bark and forest mingle with the cold air. A clear blue sky shines above us as we crunch over the hard earth, crusted with the frigid layer of winter.

  “I do miss this place. The forest is so peaceful. I especially love to walk through the sugar bush,” I say, referring to the grove of maples that are tapped for sweetness. A melancholy mood sweeps over me as I realize there’s not an ounce of sweetness left in me these days.

  “Now you have quiet walks along the beach.” Janni drills the next hole. I plug in the spile, and we finish off another tree for tapping. “I can’t imagine having a view of the ocean from my living room the way you do.”

  “It is wonderful,” I say, thankful for my life in Maine, yet wondering why my past life won’t let me go—or is it the other way around? “You should bring your friends up sometime.”

  Janni gives me a sideways glance. “This coming from Miss I-want-to-be-alone?”

  “I told you, you’re always invited. You know that.” We walk a little further. “It might surprise you to know that I entertain on a fairly regular basis.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Yep. Peter and I together, really. He’s more of the socialite than I am.”

  “And do you have the meals catered?”

  “No. Peter’s a frustrated chef. But if he didn’t make it, I’d send for a caterer.”

  Jani shakes her head. “Well, you’re doing better than me. I haven’t entertained in a couple of months. Just not in the mood for company—outside of family, I mean.”

  “Look Janni, I’m no doctor, but you seem a little depressed. Is every-thing all right?”

  She turns to me. “That’s just it. Everything is fine. I have no idea what’s going on with me. My moods are up and down.”

  “It happens at this stage in our lives. Our hormones get messed up.”

  “I’m not as old as you, Char. No offense.”

  Okay, she’s in denial. “Well, I’m not exactly aged wood, but whatever.”

  “I have to say I’m impressed that you’re still seeing Peter,” she says, quickly changing the subject. “This one’s lasted—what?—six months?” We stop at the next tree and run through the routine for tapping. The smells of a hot drill and bark chips permeate the air while bits of wood spray about.

  “Ew, that does sound serious, doesn’t it?”

  “Wealth, a busy dating life, lots of friends—you’ve got it all, Char.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. But you can,” I tease to cover the shadow over my heart.

  “Char, this is just sister-to-sister here.”

  I brace myself.

  “Do you think you’ll ever be able to care about anyone again the way you cared about Eddie?”

  “Eddie who?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  We stand in front of another tree, and she turns to me. “I’m not going to drill until you answer.”

  “No one has ever come close.” My throat clenches around the words, making them barely audible.

  Janni lifts the drill and begins to bore a hole in the next tree, just the way Eddie put a hole in my heart so many years ago . . .

  “If you don’t mind, as a follow-up, I thought I would check on the trees that we tapped on Saturday,” Daniel says, already heading toward the front door. “It will be too dark to see if I don’t get out there pretty soon.”

  “How about we go with you?” Janni finishes tying the loop on her work boots, I pull on my coat, and we join him at the door.

  “I’ll clean up the kitchen,” Mom calls from the next room.

  “Thanks,” Janni calls over her shoulder as we step outside.

  “I’m going to check out the property, so I’d better take the truck. You want to go with me or walk?” Daniel asks.

  “We’ll walk and meet you there,” Janni says.

  He nods and heads for his truck while we walk toward the trees.

  “You didn’t have to come. I just had to get out of the house and away from—” Janni stops herself.

  “She’s getting to you too?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t think anybody got to you.”

  “Are you kidding? ‘You need less flour in your gravy, Janni. It’s too lumpy. Too many marshmallows in the sweet potatoes. Did you see that curtain move? Is someone else in this house?’ I want to lock her in her room.”

  This coming from my passive sister makes me laugh out loud. Then she joins me.

  When we quiet down she says, “Guess I shouldn’t complain. She put up with enough from me in my teenage years.”

  My sister drips with sweetness. Sometimes I just want to slap her. Okay, I don’t mean that, but I haven’t had a sweet thought in, well, years. The least she could do is throw a healthy fit once in a while.

  “To quote a wise woman, ‘You need to let it go.’”

  She looks at me and smiles. “Okay, okay.”

  Daniel pulls up in the truck and gets out. He tugs gently on the spiles to make sure they’re secure as we go from tree to tree. “Good job, girls.”

  Janni smiles and winks at me.

  Daniel takes off his cap, runs impatient fingers through his hair, then yanks the cap ba
ck on. “The sap’s dripping along. We’ve got to line up some help, and fast.”

  “I’ll call around tomorrow and see if I can get some helpers,” Janni says.

  Daniel nods. “You girls want a ride back to the house?”

  “You can,” Janni says to me, her feet barely trudging along. “I need to check on the animals.”

  “I’ll help you.” Wow, I’m having a Janni moment. All sweet and helpful. Must be from hanging out with the maples.

  “Suit yourself,” Daniel calls over his shoulder with a wave.

  “Boy, I’m tired,” Janni says. “It doesn’t look like all that much work, but when you get into it, it takes a lot of effort.”

  “Sure does,” I say.

  “After I go into the house and check on Mom and Daniel, I think I’ll work a little on the scrapbook. That always calms me down. I’m really glad you came up with the idea to do it out in the barn. Though it’s cold, the solitude will be great out there.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want me to help you?”

  “Not at all. I just mean it gives me space away from Mom. Bless her heart.”

  We laugh together.

  “I’ve missed you, Char. No one understands me the way you do.” She slides open the barn door.

  Her comment surprises me. She shares a deep friendship with her friends. Surely, they know her better than I do. I’ve always envied that about her. My friends are the surface type. The ones who come over for barbecues and talk about the weather, politics, and work, but their conversation never ventures into, say, why I have never remarried. Not that I could answer. How can I when I don’t know myself?

  In no time, the barn is alive with Mr. Ed’s breath blowing through his nostrils, the scrape of iron against the wooden floor as he paws the ground, and the soft mew of hungry kittens. I bump into the bulb dangling from the extension, then walk over and tighten the cord so it’s out of harm’s way.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just startled me.” I keep my eye on the swinging bulb.

  Janni adjusts herself on the stool near Elsie. Picking up the kittens’ food bowl, I walk it over to Janni and hold it low enough for her to position Elsie’s, um, spigot directly over the bowl, give it several squirts, then walk it back to where I picked it up, the kittens all the while clamoring around my feet.