Sage and Sweetgrass

by LoRee Peery

  6

  A guy could sure get used to having women like Lanae and her sister around. Geneva’s coffee was a fine thing. She had refused payment. Lanae had gift wrapped the quilt for Lezlie at no charge. Just because they didn’t celebrate Christmas, didn’t mean he was stingy with gifts. Sage raised his eyes to the ceiling of his ranch-style house where narrow slats of darkened pine slanted to the center beam.

  Those sisters were something.

  He surveyed the great room as he hadn’t done in a long while. Would Lanae like the inside of his home? Most ranch homebuilders used a lot of wood paneling in their construction. He examined the over-sized dark brown leather and heavy wood furnishings. His gaze skimmed over the wrapped package for Lezlie. He imagined Lanae’s crocheted scarves and dainty lacy-looking things dotting the tabletops.

  What would Lezlie think of Lanae?

  No time to ponder that now. A door slammed outside, announcing Lezlie had arrived with Jax.

  Sage moseyed outside to greet them. Lezlie felt thinner when he hugged her. Jaxson had more muscle to his shoulders and was taller as well.

  Lezlie didn’t stay long enough to let the motor of her fancy SUV cool before she blew him a kiss and rolled back down the driveway.

  Sage looked forward to the days he spent with Jaxson. Since Jax turned twelve, those days came less often. These kids had way too many activities to keep up with anymore. Guess if they were busy, they kept out of trouble.

  He threw an arm over his grandson’s shoulders. “What do you plan to do with your time now that football season is over?”

  “Mom wants me to check out some volunteer stuff at the hospital, but I’m not sure that’s my thing. I’d rather come out here.”

  “You’ll have your driver’s license before you know it, Jax. Help me finish feeding the horses and we’ll go inside. We should find some good football games on TV.”

  Jaxson pointed at the horse standing in the corral. “You sure calmed that paint down, Grandpa. I remember how freaked out it acted first time I saw her here.”

  They stood at the fence, gazing at the horse in question, just hanging out.

  “Like I told you when I first brought her home, the horse had been mistreated.”

  Jaxson shot a confused look at Sage. The boy was so tall now that their eyes were level. “I don’t understand that. How can a guy be mean to a horse?”

  “I grew up in a time when it was OK to beat an animal. It was even common to beat a child or a wife.”

  “Don’t get it.”

  Sage waited a beat before he commented. “Me neither. What makes you angry, Jax?”

  “I dunno. Never thought about it. I just get mad, sometimes.” Jaxson frowned in concentration, freckles merging. “Things I can’t do anything about, I guess.”

  “You’re old enough to hear this. Maybe your mom has already talked to you about it. A prime example of anger that drives you to do unexplainable things is the way your mom acted after your grandma died. Lezlie hopped into bed with your father. It was a deliberate act. She reacted out of anger.” Anger at God, but he didn’t add that qualifier.

  “That’s heavy-duty action, I know. But it’s OK. We’ve talked about it.”

  “Where does that anger, that violence, come from except a deep-seated need for control when life throws you a curve?”

  “Mom would say anger comes from hatred. And hatred comes from anger. And lies. So…Satan, I guess.”

  “Your mom’s pretty smart, Jax. I’m not going to say she hated anybody at the time. But I’m sure she hated a life that she felt had blitzed beyond her control.”

  “She doesn’t talk much about Grandma. But she has told me she was mad at God, and her behavior was wrong.” Jaxson’s Adam’s apple bopped with his swallows. “Why do some people need anger to gain control, Grandpa?”

  Sage let the silence stretch as he contemplated the hard emotional lesson Jaxson was grappling with. He should be enjoying his grandson’s company amidst the serene horses instead of the crisp air becoming thick with their heavy topic.

  But some memories were too thick to block out all the way.

  Sage had grown up hearing his mom tell about the ever-present rage her father, his Grandpa Earl, had harbored through her growing-up years. He yelled and cursed at Grandma and his aunts and mother. Yet never laid a hand on ‘em.

  But Grandpa Earl let loose and unleashed his anger toward Uncle Ted. Sage understood from his mother that his grandfather had beaten Uncle Ted with anything handy—belt, board, black razor strop.

  Yet Sage remembered his uncle as being patient and kind. Uncle Ted never once told Sage about being beaten, demonstrating that age-old tradition of keeping ugliness hidden in the closet.

  Jaxson eventually remarked on the topic but with a sneer in his voice. “Seems like anger goes far in earning respect, too.”

  “No reason for sarcasm here, Jax. It’s all about clear expectations. I can read a person’s, or a horse’s, body movements. But I lay no claim to being a mind reader.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “It’s OK. I just want you to remember that people make a horse crazy. No horse I’ve ever known was born crazy.”

  “Kinda like people, huh?”

  “I’d say you’re learning today, son.”

  “Grandpa, I think I’d like to learn how to train a horse.”

  “Let’s plan on that for next summer then. We’ll talk to your mom and figure it out. “Sage ruffled Jaxson’s carroty hair. “First things first, Jax. If you learn nothing more from me, get this. I’m not a trainer. I’m a listener, maybe even a gentler. But I don’t train horses. Horses and I work at communicating with one another. It’s all in body movement and how man reads a critter.”

  “And critters read men.” Jaxson smoothed his hair onto his forehead, separating and stretching hunks past his brows. “Yes, sir.”

  “I got your mom’s Christmas present today. Let’s go in for some hot cocoa and talk about our trip this year.”

  “Awright!”

  Sage ruffled Jaxson’s hair again for the satisfaction of the boy’s reaction. Oh, to savor life with a teenager’s verve.

  Or with sassy Lanae Petersen’s outlook.

  7

  Savor the moment. Don’t endure it.

  Ten minutes after Sage exited with his gift for Lezlie, newlyweds Moselle and Eric Todd bounced through the front door.

  “Well, don’t you look all tanned and happy?” Lanae greeted them.

  Her niece and new nephew-in-law gave her a hug from each side. As she stepped back, Moselle asked, “Where’s Mom?”

  “I think Rainn just dropped off Mia, so they’re out back saying good-bye.”

  “We’re here now. Hi, guys.” Geneva rushed in for the requisite hugs. “You’ve lost weight.”

  Moselle and Eric exchanged silent communication. Moselle presented the picture of a blushing bride, red hair and green eyes so like her mother’s as a young woman. Lanae had to remind herself of the year.

  “Would you believe I went jogging on the beach with Eric?”

  “What kind of honeymoon escapade is that, for crying out loud?” Geneva waved her graceful hand in the air.

  Lanae joined the fray. “Can’t imagine running on the beach for exercise. A beach is for serenity. To me, a sports bra is like a girdle for the ribcage.”

  Eric rolled his eyes. The women laughed because they got the reference.

  After more laughs and hugs for Mia, who waited her turn by rubbing her wrists across her hip bones, Eric jostled Moselle close against his side. He planted a rousing kiss on his bride. Then he waved himself out the door.

  Lanae sighed inside, imagined such a moment shared with Sage, and had a hard time tuning back in.

  Moselle announced, “The beaches and the turquoise waters of the Caribbean were great. But home is where my heart is. Frivolities memory boxes await.”

  “Now, honey. Your heart needs to be anywhere Eric is.”

  Mia acci
dentally bumped into Geneva, trapping her hand against the counter. She grimaced in pain.

  “I thought you were on a new arthritis med, sis.”

  Geneva tossed away Lanae’s concern with a smile then nodded to the customer entering through the front door.

  During the lull in traffic flow following the lunch hour, Lanae latched on to her idea of shopping guidelines for men. She approached Moselle and Geneva where they were cleaning up the coffee counter. No way was she going to wait for their Monday business meeting.

  “What do you two think of a shopping guide, or suggestion sheet or brochure, a manual of sorts, for men seeking gift items here in Frivolities?”

  Moselle stared off as though she was trying to decipher handwriting on a wall.

  “I’ll never forget the way Eric reacted when he saw all those pictures of you, Moselle,” Geneva responded first.

  “He told me later he had to wade through the froufrou to get to me. And then I was more than he could handle.”

  “You still are,” Lanae and Geneva chorused.

  Lanae shot a glance toward the referred corner where painted green vines crawled up the wall, surrounding an antique armoire. Fancy-framed pictures of Moselle rested on shelving gussied up by Lanae’s doilies in varied sizes and designs.

  “And Rainn. If he hadn’t tasted your coffee, Mom, I doubt he would have come through the door.”

  “Let’s think about their reactions, and comments of other men who have ventured in, and jot down ideas. Use your card drawing talents, Moselle, see what you come up with for marketing.” Lanae had to raise her voice on the last four words because Moselle got busy at the espresso machine, swooshing and whirring to make her favored frothy latte.

  “How does a shopping list compare with greeting cards?” Moselle yelled.

  “I just cleaned that up!” Geneva gave her daughter a jab with her elbow.

  “Haven’t had my latte yet today. I’m a big enough girl to clean up after myself.”

  “Girls, girls,” Lanae teased.

  The bell above the entry door gave its tinkle and the three looked up. A striking, tall redhead walked through. She strode toward them in a no-nonsense manner and stuck out her hand, eyes never leaving Lanae’s.

  “From Dad’s description, I’m going to guess you’re Lanae. I had a day to myself and didn’t know what to do. Dad suggested I check out Frivolities in Platteville. So here I am.”

  Sage-colored eyes, Lanae noticed right off. The freckles and red hair must have come from her mother.

  Lanae swallowed, wondering what else Sage may have said. This had been quite a day.

  “Lezlie Diamond. Sage is my dad.”

  “Welcome to Frivolities,” Lanae, Geneva, and Moselle trilled in trio.

  Laughter broke up any underlying nervousness.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Lezlie. Sage told me you and Jaxson are his whole life.”

  “Besides horses,” Lezlie said with a rounding of her expressive lavender-blue eyes. A cloud of something else entered her expression but cleared as though the sun had popped out.

  Lanae guessed Lezlie and Moselle to be close to the same age. Sage hadn’t said. She couldn’t imagine Moselle with a teenaged son.

  “Are you interested in seeing anything special? Or would you like some coffee and then an opportunity to browse on your own?”

  “I’d love some coffee.”

  Geneva turned to her chrome and brass coffeemaker, ready for action. “Today’s special flavor is hazelnut, but I can give you regular blend with flavor. Or latte or cappuccino. What do you like?”

  “I would love anything creamy and rich. The black stuff at the hospital where I work gets old.”

  Moselle looked as though she had walked into the middle of a play not knowing what had happened on stage before her entrance.

  “Honey, this is Sage Diamond’s daughter, Lezlie. I’ll tell you about Sage later. And Lezlie, this is my sister, Geneva, and her daughter, Moselle.” Lanae turned to Mia, who pulled at the bottom of Lanae’s apron, seeking attention. “And this little minx is Mia Harris.”

  Mia didn’t look at Lezlie, stating instead, “I’m thirsty, too.”

  Geneva had balked at the idea of caring for an autistic child when Rainn gained custody of his niece and moved Mia to Platteville. Geneva had come to terms with the idea of looking forward to grandmothering, rather than mothering. But loving Rainn, and then falling in love with the little girl, had changed her mind.

  Lanae guided Mia by the shoulders over to the small refrigerator underneath the counter. But her ears tuned in as Lezlie explained for Moselle’s benefit.

  “My dad and Lanae met when he advertised an antique vanity that used to be my grandmother’s. Dad told me about Frivolities, this chick place that scares him. By the way, I love it!” Lezlie continued. “I dropped my son, Jaxson, off at Dad’s acreage. It’s the first Saturday he hasn’t been with his friends since school started.”

  “And he didn’t want to spend it with you?” Geneva put in with a laugh.

  Lezlie smiled her thanks as she accepted the Frivolities mug filled with mocha. “Smells heavenly. It’s more like I didn’t want to spend the day with my son. I’ve been working some extra hours in Lincoln, where I’m a nurse. Mornings and evenings I get enough of Jaxson’s teen testosterone.” She sipped, gaze checking out Frivolities over the wide rim. “Mmm. This is lovely. Coffee and shop. Tell me about it, please.”

  “We think of it as a God-thing.”

  Lanae grinned over how much Moselle sounded like her elders.

  “I’m all ears. Well, and taste buds, right now.” Lezlie took another sip of the hot liquid.

  “Geneva and I are both widows,” Lanae chimed. “I don’t know how much your dad told you, but I used to live on a ranch in western Nebraska. Geneva and I saw the ad for this building, and ta dah: Frivolities.”

  “I’ll say it again. I love it. I could hide myself here just checking everything out.”

  “That’s what we like to hear. Moselle moved from Kansas City where she used to work in an antique store and for a card company. She has a degree in art and uses her talent to create new items from old things. She’s found her niche here now with a paint brush and other tools. Moselle returned to Platteville after I got seriously ill. That’s a story for another day.” Lanae picked up a fancy shadow box and held it against her chest. “I am so proud of Moselle for using her God-given talents and coming up with the signature Frivolities item. We call them Memory Boxes.”

  She caught the eyes of all women within hearing and continued. “Frivolities Memory Boxes reflect the three of us. As you can see, each of us contributes. This one began with a quilted design block from Geneva. North Carolina Lily is the pattern, I think. Moselle, the glue-gun queen, worked in her glued-on beads, buttons, and sequins. Embellishments, you know. You’d be amazed what catches her fancy.” Lanae ran a loving hand over the boxed frame. “Then this one is topped off around the edge here with my crocheted rosettes and embroidered trim.”

  Lezlie took in the ramble with a smile. “Do you mind if I meander on my own? There’s so much to see. I’m not looking for anything in particular at the moment. But I’m sure I can find lots of interesting goodies.”

  “Be our guest.” Lanae waved a hand. “Just give me a holler if you need anything from the ceiling.”

  “You have a lot of inventory, that’s for sure,” Lezlie said, scanning the merchandise above their heads. She indicated the lathe where a burgundy velvet garland was hanging off-kilter from the ceiling trellis. “And I have to hand it to you for the way it’s all over for customers to see.” Lezlie took another sip and grinned at Geneva. “This coffee is so good it’s dreamy.”

  Like your dad’s eyes and mellow voice.

  “Before you look around, and while you enjoy your drink, would you like to see the vanity I just finished?” Lanae invited.

  At Lezlie’s nod, Lanae led the way to the back storeroom.

  “Tha
t’s our dress-up corner.” She pointed to an area where old, and a few new, hats, purses, shawls, beads, gloves, and boas were bunched and hanging from a wall divider.

  “I’ll bet little girls love that.”

  “And some grown-up little girls,” Lanae added, wondering what Lezlie’s mother had been like.

  Lezlie paused to study a display of rainbow, butterfly, and dragonfly Christmas ornaments. She made them tinkle with the back of her fingers.

  Lanae recognized the little-girl wonder. “Have you ever heard a butterfly?”

  Lezlie gave her an out-of-your-gourd look.

  “I’m serious. When there’s not one hint of breeze and the air is thick with humidity, a butterfly’s wings are noisy. I can’t count the times I’ve had one land on me, when I was suspended in time by their tickling touch. Its feelers, sensors, or tentacles, whatever they are called, sipped the moisture from my skin.”

  Maybe Sage would understand, him being a horse whisperer and all. Lanae tried not to smile at Lezlie’s you’re-one-crazy-woman look. They walked past the door to the loft stairs and on through the office.

  “You must have a connection with butterflies the way my dad does with horses. Lezlie ran a hand over the back of the sofa and said, “Every office should have a couch like this. Better than hospital-plastic, especially with a color the same as my dad’s name.”

  “I’ve seen that green referred to as celadon, something similar to celery. But I’ll call it sage from now on. Your hospital furniture probably helps keep staff awake at night.”

  “I’m sure you’re right about that,” Lezlie agreed with a hearty laugh.

  Lanae nodded toward the sofa as she held the door open for Lezlie. “The sofa, though, I’ll look at differently from now on, thinking of your dad. It’s been a comfort, kind of a solace after the hectic attack of Frivolities on the eyes and ears.”

  They shared another laugh. Lanae added, “Not really. The wild colors and goofy stuff just make me smile.” Why couldn’t she shake her flustered desire to make a perfect impression on Sage’s daughter?

  The vanity stood alone in the back storage room, shining and giving off a hint of chemical smell.