by Diann Hunt
Twigs snap beneath my feet as I stop at trees here and there to check the bags of sap. Darkness has settled over Tappery, and I suppose I should make my way back to the house, but I need this. Oh, how I need this time alone. To reflect. To rethink some things. To pray.
It’s time to call it as I see it. Bitterness has stripped me of valuable family time and memories. It’s held me captive in Maine, kept me locked far away from Tappery.
I love my family. And although my mom and I don’t see eye to eye on hardly anything, I love her too. She’s ornery, so we’ve got that much in common. Her expectations make her a bit bristly as far as I’m concerned, but I know deep down she loves me. She has to. I’m her daughter. Besides that, it’s a commandment.
Stopping beside a maple, my fingers rub across the bark, and I think again about how the tapped tree heals itself through the year before the next tapping season. Though the hole is gone, the scar is still there.
That’s me. I’ve been fooling myself into thinking the wound was gone, but it wasn’t. Layers of denial, bitterness, and anger simply grew over it. Funny, I didn’t see that until this visit back home. How could I have been so blind?
A sweet, woodsy scent stirs with the night air, calming my spirit as I talk with God about my wasted years.
Wiping my blurry eyes after prayer, I notice a shadow moving in the distance. Another wipe and glance confirm I’m not imagining things. Breath clogs in my throat. I’m not one given to paranoia or fear, but my nerves are on edge, and the shadow causes my feet to freeze in place.
Branches snap as the shadow moves once again. My eyes strain in the darkness to make out the figure. No one should be out here this time of night. I don’t remember seeing Janni and Daniel’s car when I got home, so I figure they’re still at the movie. That means the shadow is probably a wild animal—and with my luck, most likely a squirrel. Probably a rabid one. I’m not completely out of shape, so I could make a beeline for the house, but curiosity—or stupidity—holds me in place.
The shadow moves again, and this time moonlight glints on a face. Janni’s. The breath I was holding comes out with a burst. “Janni Ort, what are you doing here?”
“Hello? I could ask the same of you.” She steps over to me, laughing. “Just like the closet days, huh?”
“Except that now I’m a breath away from a pacemaker.”
“What are you doing out here?” she asks as we walk along.
“Let’s go down by the oaks so we can sit on the bench,” I say, leading the way.
“Well? You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing out here?”
“Excuse me, but I asked you first.”
“How come you always get your way?”
“It’s the one perk that comes with age. I thought you and Daniel were going to the movies.”
“Someone got hurt at the store, and he went over to the hospital. I don’t think it’s anything serious, but he always has to check those things out. Don’t know the details yet.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Janni.”
“Yeah, when it rains, it pours. Speaking of which, that rain earlier today made it a little muddy out here,” she says, revealing the mud caked on the bottoms of her shoes.
“So why are you walking around in the woods?”
“To tell you the truth, I’m worried about how to tell Mom and Dad about Stephanie.”
I can see her point. Mom won’t take this lying down.
“Mom may throw a fit at first, but she’ll come around. You know how she is. She’ll adore having a granddaughter. Just stand back when you first break the news.”
“Yeah, watch out for the belching volcano.” Janni chuckles, then sighs. “I sure hope you’re right.”
When we sit down, the cold steel of the bench seeps through my pant legs and causes me to shiver.
“It’s your turn,” she says.
I tell her about running into Linda and our discussion.
“Wow, that’s tough, Char. I’m sorry. But I’m glad you two talked about it.”
“You know, I am too. I think it’s the first step toward true healing for me.” I turn a dried leaf in my hand.
Janni smiles and pats my hand. Something catches her attention. “What’s that?”
“What?” My gaze shoots up, and I squint through the darkness to where Janni is pointing.
“I saw something through the trees, right over there,” she whispers.
“Good grief. I’ve been in this woods a thousand times and never met up with shadows—until tonight.”
“There it is again.”
My eyes refocus toward the area of the shadow, and thanks to an almost-full moon I see something that puts me in mind of Gollum from Lord of the Rings. A gasp escapes me. “What do you think it is?” I ask, my heart kicking into a jogging pace.
“I have no idea. Can’t be Daniel, since he’s at the hospital.”
“The forest is our friend,” I say, trying to convince myself. “Friendly shadows.”
“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon leave the friendly shadows behind and head for the house. Come on.” Janni creeps from the bench to a nearby tree. I hate to point this out, but, well, it’s not hiding her all that well. She’s spilling out the sides like pancake batter in too small a griddle.
Normally, I never experience fear in the woods, but with the current state of my nerves, things are starting to get to me, that’s all.
“Where did the shadow go? I lost sight of it,” Janni whispers to me over her shoulder. She’s shaking so badly, I’m thankful we’re not standing under a coconut tree.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s following us.” I’m hearing Pink Panther music in the background as we tiptoe from tree to tree. “One tree can’t shield both of us at the same time. We need to separate. I’ll head up to the house that way, and you go over there,” I say, pointing.
Janni turns to me and gasps. “You want to separate?” In that instant the whites of her eyes light up the forest.
“Come on, you can do it.” Before she can argue, I dart off to the nearest tree.
Night has thickened around us like maple syrup, making it difficult to see anything. If I could get to a clearing, the moonlight would help me, but a cluster of trees is cutting off the light.
A rustle of leaves. The hoot of an owl causes panic to slice through me. This is crazy. What has gotten into me? More rustling. A scream rockets up my throat, but I clamp my jaw tight and make a mad dash for a nearby clearing, running for all I’m worth. Picture Olympic runner, arms in motion, legs moving at such speed my feet barely touch the ground, and I’m blowing out short, cloudy breaths like a chimney with hiccups. At last I thump against a wide tree and bend over, taking in huge gulps of air.
“What are you doing here?” I whip around just as moonlight lands upon my mother’s face in a ghoulish glow. For the first time in my life, I’m understanding that whole need-for-Depends thing.
twenty-eight
“For crying out loud, Mom, what are you doing walking in the woods at night?” My tight throat attempts to hold the words captive, but they seep through. A tinge of anger traces my voice, and I’m good with that.
“Yeah, Mom, what are you doing?” Janni’s shoes crunch fallen twigs as she stomps over to us.
With lips pursed tightly, Mom takes a Superman stance. “I could ask the same of you two.”
Just like that? That’s her explanation? If ever I wanted to pile Mom’s suspense books in a burning heap, it’s now.
“We were taking a walk,” I say.
Janni looks at me, blows out a sigh, and the three of us walk back toward the house.
“Wait. This isn’t about us. It’s about you.” More steps. “And what’s that in your hands?” My eyes narrow to slits when I see the suspense book.
Mom shifts the book to her other hand, and her nose points so high it makes me wonder if she’s having a nosebleed.
“She was retrieving her hidden book f
rom the woods,” Janni says dryly, stepping over a large rock in the path.
My feet stop in their tracks, and my jaw dangles. “What? You hid a book in the woods? That’s just pathetic, Mom.”
“Charlene Marybelle, you watch your tongue. I’m still your mother.”
Walking again, I sigh. “Mom, we’re only trying to keep you from reading those books to help you through this paranoia thing.”
Mom stops, stiffens, stretches from four feet eleven to a full five feet before our very eyes, and points that frightening finger just under my nose. “I am not paranoid. Your father was trying to kill me.”
“Then why isn’t he trying now?”
“He and Gertie probably split up.”
Oh, please. I roll my eyes at Janni. She stifles a giggle. “Mom, Janni needs to talk to you.”
Janni shakes her head fervently at me. When Mom turns to her, she stops midshake and smiles.
“Well, what is it?”
Janni looks around.
“Why don’t you sit over there,” I say, pointing to fallen log. “I’ll just go back to the house and leave you two alone.”
When I turn to leave, Janni clutches the hem of my blouse with all the charm of a pit bull. “Oh no, you don’t,” she growls between clenched teeth. “You’re staying for this one.”
“Well, hurry up. I’m cold.” Mom frowns when she sits on the tree bark.
“This will shock you, Mom, and probably hurt you, but please hear me out. First off, I want to apologize for any pain this will cause you. I never should have allowed myself to get caught up in the peer pressure. You and Dad did a wonderful job of raising Char and me and—”
“Well, for goodness’ sakes, spit it out. My bones are so cold, they could break off right now,” Mom says, pulling her coat tighter to her.
She has such a way with words.
Janni blinks, looks at me, then back to Mom. Deep breath. “Okay. It’s like this. When I was in college, I fell in love, made bad choices, ended up pregnant, and found out the guy didn’t love me after all. He died three weeks before the birth of our baby girl. I put the baby up for adoption, and now I just found out my daughter wants to have a relationship with me.”
With all the courage she can muster, Janni spits out her words in rapid-fire succession. A gasp comes from Mom’s direction, and I watch in sheer wonder as her eyelids flutter like a paper fan during a hot flash.
Her eyelids finally come to a halt, but her body is so rigid that I’m sure if I blow on her, she’ll fall over and break into a bazillion pieces. For the span of a heartbeat, I’m wondering if Janni’s confession has carried Mom to her eternal reward.
“Mom, are you okay?” Janni asks.
Finally, she swallows. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Her words are vibrat-ing. I can only hope it’s not the precursor to an erupting storm.
“I was afraid,” Janni states simply, staring at her hands, tears spilling on her coat.
“Did you go through this alone? Did anyone help you?” Mom’s soft response causes both of us to blink.
Janni looks at her. “Only my roommate knew.”
“You told a stranger but not your mother?” Soft moment over.
“She wasn’t exactly a stranger. Besides, I wanted to spare you and Dad the embarrassment in the church and all that.”
“What’s more important than our daughters’ well-being?” Mom stands up here. “When it comes to you and Char, we don’t care what the church people think. We love you. I’m not condoning what you did, mind you, but nothing will stop us from loving you. We love and accept you, warts and all.”
She looks at me when she says the “warts and all” part.
“We pray daily that you will grow stronger in your walk with the Lord. If He can forgive you, why did you think we wouldn’t?”
We’re stunned to silence. In fact, it’s as though the whole earth blinks at this surprising revelation.
Janni and Mom soon become a tangle of arms and hugs, while a chunk the size of a hundred-year-old maple lodges in my throat.
Mom finally pulls away from Janni and extends her arms to me to pull me into a hug with the two of them. Mom’s bony arms never felt so good.
With emotions spent, Janni pulls a tissue from her pocket, wipes her nose, and turns to Mom. “I never dreamed you’d be so understanding. I’ve carried this around all these years, so fearful of hurting you, Dad, and Daniel.”
We discuss Stephanie’s father, the accident, the adoption, how Daniel’s handling everything, and how Janni is going to break the news to the boys.
“You said your daughter wants a relationship. Has she contacted you?” Mom wants to know as we head back to the house.
“Um, I’m glad you asked.” Janni turns to Mom. “She has contacted me. Mom, my daughter is Stephanie.”
By the time we make it back to the house, Dad is in bed. The light in Carol’s room is out, so we assume she’s in bed, and Stephanie still isn’t home. Mom’s determined to wait up for her and be properly introduced to her only granddaughter.
We settle in around the kitchen table with mugs of decaf coffee in hand.
“So what’s going on with you, Char, besides the fact you’re working yourself to death and you’re not giving me grandchildren?”
Okay, that was harsh. But Mom’s been so good with Janni’s news that I can’t help but smile. “Same old, same old,” I say.
“Are you serious about this guy who came to visit you—what’s his name?”
“Peter.”
Mom takes a drink from her cup. “Are you serious about him?”
“Peter is a friend.” Though after his visit, I’m wondering if we’ll still have that.
Mom stares at me. “He came all the way from Maine to Tappery to visit a friend?”
“And to look over some property.” Do I want to discuss this? No. “He’s been burned before. Doesn’t want to marry again.”
“I see.” Mom continues to peer at me over the rim of her cup.
“What?”
“In other words, he’s safe.”
“I guess you could say that.” Probably very safe now. As in, merely an acquaintance. A boss.
Mom puts her cup down. “Char, you’re too pretty a woman to give up on life.”
A few days ago, I would have argued that I hadn’t given up on life, but now I see some truth to what she’s saying.
“What about Russ?” Mom’s eyes continue to bore into my soul. I hate it when she does that.
“What about him?”
“You know what I mean. Anything there?” Her thumb runs along the handle of her coffee cup while she keeps her eyes fixed on me.
Mom knows how to cut to the heart of the matter. I shrug.
“You know good and well there’s something there, Charlene Marybelle. It’s written all over your face.”
Her words hit me like a two-by-four. “That’s news to me,” I say.
“Well, wake up and read the paper,” Mom says, causing Janni to laugh, but I’m still stunned to silence.
We all know Mom has a keen intuition about these sorts of things, so when she makes a comment such as this, I sit up and take notice. I mean, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that I care about Russ, but I haven’t allowed myself to evaluate that too much. The truth is I’m afraid to explore those feelings for fear of where they might lead me.
“I don’t want to go there again,” I say, wishing I hadn’t, because Mom’s up for this argument, and I’m not.
“One bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch, girl. Remember that song, Char?” Janni pipes up. “By the Osmonds?”
Suddenly, the tune plays in my head, and I smile. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Russ is way different from Eddie. No comparison,” Mom says. “Eddie always worried me.”
“How so?”
“The way he flirted.” Mom holds up her hand. “Oh, I know, you always said he was just outgoing, but I saw it as more than that. He had a wild str
eak, that one.”
“Does this mean you don’t hold the divorce against me?”
Mom gives me an incredulous stare and reaches out her hand to me in a rare moment of tenderness. “Is that what you thought? I never held that divorce against you, Charlene Marybelle. He left you for another woman. There wasn’t much you could do to fight it. His mind was made up. I just never quite knew what to say. Remember, when Eddie left, it felt like we lost a son too. It devastated the whole family.”
Being self-absorbed in my own pain, I had failed to see theirs. “I thought I had let you down.” Tears surface, and I try everything to hold them back.
“You could never let us down. We love you girls more than any-thing.” She squeezes my hand, then lets go. “I’m not good with words. Never have been. I speak my mind, and that’s gotten us into trouble at the church on more than one occasion, I can tell you.”
I can only imagine.
“We’re a lot alike, Char,” Mom continues. “We both speak our minds, and we’re both independent.” Mom fingers the handle of her mug a moment, then looks up at me. “I suppose that’s why I’ve always been a little harder on you, telling you to be sweet and mind your mouth, all that. I was hoping to spare you the same mistakes I’ve made over the years.”
Mom’s little speech has left me, um, speechless. I’ve always seen her and Janni as being like-minded, both devoted to family and into the domestic side of life. Okay, I’ve seen them as the family saints—well, all except for Mom’s tongue thing. Oh, yeah, and now Janni’s college indiscretions. But Mom and I alike? It’s kind of nice and scary all at the same time.
“You’re an instigator, too. When there was a problem, I pretty much knew you were behind it.” Mom chuckles and shakes her head. “You’d get yourself into more trouble when you were growing up.” She turns to Janni. “Now, me and Janni, we’re both a little manipulative.”
I didn’t even know Mom knew what that meant.
Janni’s eyes widen, and Mom smiles. “Admit it. We both see our-selves as the glue that holds the family together. We do what it takes to keep things in balance—or so we tell ourselves.”
