Be Sweet

by Diann Hunt

  Hello? It’s not like she’s been all that easy on me.

  “Aw, I’m just kiddin’ ya.”

  Somehow I manage a weak smile. I’m not about to mention the fact that not only is my ankle throbbing, but also my toothache is no longer on the fringes.

  “Hey,” Janni’s eyes sparkle, and her face lights up like Mrs. Claus at Christmas, “I know what will perk you up.”

  Just hearing those words strikes fear in my heart. “What?”

  “Sudoku!” Janni claps her hands together and heads for a stack of magazines.

  “Puzzles? You think puzzles will perk me up? Hello? Anyone notice I’m a people person, not a puzzle person?”

  “Good luck,” Daniel whispers on his way back out of the room.

  “Coward,” I call after him, low enough so that Janni can’t hear me.

  “Oh come on, these are fun.” She throws a magazine to me, then walks over to put on the easy listening radio station.

  We work feverishly on those puzzles. My brain is tired before I get started, but I don’t want to be a party pooper, so I play along. Unfortunately, within the first five minutes, I slip into a coma and don’t come out until my toothache screams for attention. The pulse in my ankle keeps pace with the soft beat of the music. My head has joined the kettle-drum section. I sink further into the sofa, praying all the while I will disappear, never to be found again.

  “Are you doing all right, Char?” Stephanie walks toward me with a cup in her hand. “Macchiato, three shots,” she announces with a smile. She hands it to me.

  “Thank you, Stephanie. That’s so sweet.” It’s a guilt offering, but still, it’s nice. “Did you get some coffee for yourself?”

  “Never touch the stuff,” she says.

  There is positively no way this kid can be Janni’s daughter.

  “We need to talk,” Stephanie says.

  Janni puts her magazine down and comes over to look at me. “Oh dear, Char, your color doesn’t look so good. You ready for those pain-killers yet?”

  Try as I might, I have an aversion to pills. Don’t like them. Doesn’t matter if they’re vitamins or medicine, I hate to take them. They always make me choke. But with the way my head, tooth, and ankle are throb-bing, what does it matter? I nod.

  “Uh-oh, I know she’s hurting when she agrees to medicine. Be right back.” Janni heads to the bathroom.

  “Listen, Char, I’m sorry to spring that on you the way I did, about Janni and me,” she whispers.

  “Stephanie, would you grab Char a glass of water so she can take her pills?” Janni calls out from the bathroom.

  “Sure.”

  I hate to break it to her that she’s mistaken, but she needs to know she has the wrong gal. “We’ll talk later, Stephanie. Maybe when every-one goes to bed?”

  She nods and heads for the kitchen.

  Why didn’t I stay in Maine where I belong?

  By the time everyone goes to bed and the steps creak beneath Stephanie’s feet as she heads my way, my toothache has elevated my pain level to the point of snapping. The sheets are in a tangle from my thrashing about on the sofa.

  “Char, is it your ankle? You look awful.” Stephanie tucks the sheet in around me and plumps the pillow, trying to make me more comfortable.

  Left palm against my cheek, I say, “My tooth. I have to get help.” At this point, I’m sure it couldn’t hurt any worse if I sawed off my jawbone.

  “What’s wrong?” Janni calls from the stairway. The pounding in my head must have drowned out her footsteps. “Char? Do we need to call the doctor for your ankle? Maybe you’ve broken something.”

  She comes around the sofa, takes one look at me, and gasps. Okay, so I don’t look wonderful without makeup, but I hardly feel it should provoke a gasp.

  “She has a bad toothache,” Stephanie tells her.

  “Toothache? I’m calling Russ.” Janni steps over and picks up her cordless.

  “No!” I yell as best I can with my hand clamped against the left side of my jaw. “You can’t call him. Anyone but him.”

  “Char, it’s the weekend and it’s midnight. I don’t know another dentist in town who would work on you at midnight, over the weekend, when you’re not his patient—without charging an arm and a leg.”

  “I’ll throw in an arm and a leg, if that will help.” My jaw is tight, and I’m pretty sure my head has swollen to the size of a beach ball.

  “No, you don’t. Russ is our dentist, and he’s our friend. Why, he’d be offended if we didn’t call him.”

  The intense pain shoots through my jaw once again. “Okay, fine. Call him,” I snarl.

  Janni starts punching in the numbers, no doubt happy that she got her way. I just want to slap her.

  “Hello, Russ? I’m sorry to bother you so late, but it’s Char. She hurt her ankle falling from a tree—”

  I roll my eyes. Did she have to tell him that?

  “No, no, she’s fine.” She looks at me and talks away from the mouth-piece. “Well, you did.”

  I’m so gonna hurt her.

  “And on top of that she has a horrible toothache.” Can we say whiner? “I was wondering if we could get her in first thing in the morning, and thought you could tell us what we might do for her in the meantime?”

  The pain is excruciating, making me want to bang my head against the wall. Yet I doubt even that would improve things.

  “Okay, we’ll be there.” Janni hangs up and turns to Stephanie. “Help me get her dressed. She’s going into his office now.”

  “Now?” I cry. It’s the cookies. I know it’s the cookies. If only I had stayed away from them.

  “Now.” Janni’s snap-to-it movements take over, and if I didn’t know Mom was sleeping peacefully upstairs, I would swear that she had morphed into Janni’s body. At this moment, there is no way I can imagine the world with two of my mother. That would pretty much send me over the edge.

  seventeen

  Let me just say, the trip to Russ’ s office was humiliating beyond measure. I had to wear a bib and keep my drool to a minimum while he prodded around in my mouth as though excavating for diamonds. The good news is my toothache is gone—or at least I think it is. One side of my head is numb, so it’s hard to tell. The other good thing is, instead of paying for the filling, I get a free meal out of the deal, as in a dinner date with Russ to Sok’s Restaurant.

  Once I return to bed in the wee hours of the morning, my dreams take me to a quiet café located on a brick-lined street bustling with quaint shops and happy tourists. Caramel-colored walls, white trim, and white café round tables and chairs adorn the inside. The espresso machine whirs in the background, and the sweet smell of sticky buns and bagels perfumes the air. Russ sits across from me dressed in a crisp navy oxford, open at the collar, muscles bulging against the sleeves. Nice jeans and sneakers give him a casual appearance, but he’s still classy all the way in my book.

  A dozen yellow roses—my favorite—burst from a crystal vase in the middle of the table, compliments of Russ. He’s holding my hand, gaz-ing deep into my eyes. Without a word, he leans toward me, closer, closer, and just as our lips are about to meet, Mom’s voice comes crashing through.

  “Land sakes, Charlene Marybelle, what are you doing sleeping on that couch? It’s time for church.” My mother’s sharp voice still causes prickles on the back of my neck, and I break out in a cold sweat. Considering my aversion to heat lately, that should say something. To point out that this is a rude awakening is an understatement. But nothing compares to having Russ’s face within reach, then blinking my eyes open and seeing my mother’s skinny jowls hanging inches from my face. Took five years off my life, I’m sure of it.

  “Hi, Mom.” I rub my eyes, and she straightens.

  “Don’t ‘Hi, Mom’ me. You should be dressed and ready to go.” She adjusts her purse on her shoulder.

  “Be nice to her, Mom. She bruised her ankle and had to have a tooth filled in the middle of the night,” Janni says, grabbing
her coat from the closet.

  “She what?” Mom looks at me as though she can’t believe she gave birth to me.

  Janni explains everything. I haven’t the strength. To my surprise, Mom’s face turns soft.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” she says, tucking the blanket in around me. “Do you need me to stay home with you?”

  The music to Psycho screeches through my mind, and my body gives an involuntary shudder.

  “I’m staying with her,” Stephanie says in no uncertain terms.

  Mom looks from her to me. “Well, if you’re okay with that, Char?”

  “Yes, Mom, that’s fine.” It’s kind of nice to have Mom’s attention like this, though I wouldn’t go so far as to say I want her to stay here with me.

  “Well, all right then.” Mom turns to Janni. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah. The boys and Candy went with Daniel. He had to be there early to work the sound system. They wanted to go over to the coffee shop and grab something before church.”

  Mom nods. “Char, behave yourself.” She waves and shoots out the door before I can reply.

  Janni looks at me, and we both laugh. “How much trouble does she think I can get into when I can’t walk?” I ask.

  “You have a reputation.” Janni chuckles.

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “The chicken and noodles are in the Crock-Pot. The oven timer is set for the broccoli casserole. The salad is in the fridge, and I’ll prepare the rolls when I get home,” Janni says.

  “What, no dessert?” I tease.

  “Blueberry pies.”

  My mouth dangles open. She laughs.

  “You are a saint.” One glance at Stephanie makes me want to ask, “Or are you?”

  “Planning a meal hardly qualifies me for sainthood.” She shrugs. “You do what you’ve got to do,” she says. “See you later.”

  As soon as the door pulls closed behind Janni, I turn to Steph. “All right, let’s get down to business.” No way I can wait another minute. We need to resolve this now.

  She takes a deep breath. “I’ve been searching for quite some time for my biological mom. She went to college in Illinois, got pregnant, gave me up for adoption. With the help of an Internet agency, I began my search to find my mom and ultimately that led me here to Tappery.”

  My tongue won’t move, and this time it has nothing to do with the shot Russ gave me.

  Another deep breath. “It was sheer luck that day at the coffee shop when Daniel talked to the barista about needing help. In the course of their conversation, he mentioned that his father-in-law was Pastor Haverford and his wife’s name was Janni. That’s when I knew I had to come and check it out. My mother’s name was Janet Elise Haverford.”

  My breath lingers between my chest and mouth. My tongue still won’t move. I try to take it all in. She has to be telling the truth because she knows Janni’s full name. Still, this world is full of sly people who try to deceive others. Maybe she wants money from Janni and figures if she’s one of the kids . . . Wonder if she’s seen the carpet or noticed Daniel’s coupon fetish?

  “I don’t want anything from her,” she says, as though she’s read my thoughts. “I’ve just always wanted to know my real mother.”

  “But you don’t eat carbs,” I say in utter amazement.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, Stephanie, but it’s highly unlikely that Janni had a baby without the rest of us knowing about it. Saying nothing of the fact that it would be totally out of character for her. The woman is a saint.” My fingers work the cover around me, tucking it in for warmth.

  “People mess up.”

  “Yeah, but not Janni. Trust me on this, I know. After you get to know her, you’ll see. There’s got to be some mistake.”

  “No mistake, Char.”

  No use arguing with her about it. She’ll see. “And your mother in Illinois, what’s her name?”

  “Carol Sherwood.”

  “Does she mind that you’re seeking out your mother?”

  “No. Said she always knew I would someday.”

  “Does she know you’re staying at Janni’s house?”

  “Yeah. Char, just so you know, I tried to tell you about this that night in the barn, remember?”

  For a minute, I think back. “Yes, I remember. So what now?”

  She looks down at her hands. “I don’t know. Guess I just wanted to get to know her a little.”

  Just what Janni needs right now. Someone to come along and stir up trouble. Talk about an emotional upheaval. “Are you planning to tell her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not sure she can take it right now,” I say. “As you know, she’s had a lot of pressure on her lately, and she’s going through—well, she’s kind of going through some things.”

  Steph’s head jerks up. “She’s not sick, is she?”

  “No, nothing like that. I think she’s going through the changes that women go through in midlife. It affects your emotions and all that. It’s a difficult time to handle big things.”

  Steph looks down again. “Maybe I should just leave.”

  Part of me wishes she would leave to spare Janni the headache of it all, but I can see the hope fringing on despair in Stephanie’s eyes. She won’t rest until she finds her biological mother. She deserves to know it’s not Janni.

  “Do you still want to work at the coffee shop and stay in town?”

  “For a little while. At least, that was my goal.”

  My heart aches for her other mother, since she will have to share her only daughter—once Stephanie finds her biological mother. “What about Carol?”

  “No one can ever take her place in my heart. She did the hard work of raising me. She will always be my true mother.”

  I nod.

  “Who all knows about me?”

  “I think I can safely say no one.” My mind drifts back to those blurry days when Janni was in college. I had already left home by then, but I’d see her at all the school breaks. Surely I would have known if she had been pregnant. There was one Christmas break when she wore a lot of oversized sweatshirts. I shake the memory. It’s ludicrous to even con-sider. “Listen, Stephanie, I know how badly you want Janni to be your mom, but just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

  “You’ll see that I’m right, Char. You’ll see.”

  Something about the confident way she says that causes a chill to shimmy up my spine. Maybe I should go home while there’s still time.

  “How ya feeling, Zip?” Daniel asks when every-one stumbles into the house from church, shoving coats and hats into the hall closet.

  “Stephanie has taken good care of me.” I smile, praying the storm that’s soon to erupt won’t leave a lot of debris behind. With a curious glance, Janni looks at Steph, then back to me. “The smell of chicken and noodles has been driving me wild,” I say.

  Daniel goes up behind Janni, grabs her around the middle, then squeezes. “Nobody can cook like my Janni,” he says. She lifts her gaze to him. “But I’m still gonna take her to restaurants when she wants to go.”

  We all laugh together. Does Janni have any clue how lucky she is to have a guy like Daniel? There just aren’t many around. I should know. I’ve made a professional career of dating.

  “I’m impressed you got your bedding put away. You could have stayed there all day, you know,” Janni says, stepping away from Daniel.

  “What do you take me for, a slug?”

  Janni chuckles. “Well, you just stay put until lunchtime. I don’t need you and your crutches getting in my way in the kitchen.”

  “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

  “I’ll help you, Janni.” Stephanie steps up to the plate. She tosses me a quick glance before trailing behind Janni into the kitchen.

  I grab my sketch pad and pencil, and start drawing more ideas on the coastal home. As I work on the outside elevation, I pencil in an ocean setting which makes me a ta
d homesick for Maine.

  Before I have time to think on that, Dad shoves through the front door. “Hey, Dad. I’m so glad you’re joining us.” Just then Mom harrumphs loud enough for us to hear on her way to the kitchen.

  “Don’t mind her,” I whisper. “She’ll come around.” I pat the seat beside me. Wiggles barks from his cage, whips his tail, and scampers about. “I wonder what’s the matter with him?”

  “It’s spring. As a wise old owl once said, ‘He’s twitterpated.’”

  That little comment from my Dad renders me totally speechless. Never in all my born days could I have imagined hearing my dad say the word twitterpated. Quoting King Solomon is one thing, but quoting the owl on Bambi ? Well, it’s just a little frightening, that’s all.

  “How’s my girl?” Dad gives me a sideways squeeze. “I heard you had a rough night.”

  “I’ve had better, that’s for sure.”

  “I remember when you skinned your knee on your tricycle . . .” Dad goes into another story about the past, and I wonder who’s struggling more with letting things go, him or me.

  “You doing okay, Dad? I mean, really?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” He pats his stomach. “Probably gained five pounds since your mom’s been gone ’cause I’m eating a lot of junk food that she won’t let me eat.” He lifts an ornery grin.

  This makes me laugh. “Just make sure you eat some good stuff too. No cake for breakfast.”

  He winks. “Okay, Zipper.”

  “I’m flattered that you all are still calling me that, but it obviously doesn’t apply any longer.”

  Dad brushes the air with his hand. “Aw, you’re as pretty as the day you were born, Charlene.” His eyes take on a glazed look. “I’ll never for-get that day. You had the most perfect little round head, and such hair! Looked like your mom from the start—well, except you got my family’s body type.”

  I lean into him. “I thank you for that.”

  “Your mom is small, but her family isn’t.” He chuckles. “Yeah, it makes you wonder how anyone can give away a precious little one.”

  His comment causes me to choke.

  “What’s wrong?”