Back on Blossom Street

by Debbie Macomber

  “Yes, but—”

  Jacqueline stopped her. “Susan, it’s only right to hear them out.”

  “Mrs. Turner,” Alix said, speaking quickly in order to be heard. “I know this must be a shock.”

  “A shock,” Susan repeated and sank down onto the sofa again. “Shock doesn’t begin to describe what I’m feeling right now.”

  “I actually felt we’d gone too far,” Jacqueline said to the other woman.

  “But—”

  Jacqueline interrupted her again, nodding at Alix and Jordan. “Tell us what you’ve decided.”

  “We want a small, private wedding,” Alix explained, forever grateful to her friend. “I’ve spoken with Grandma Turner and she—”

  “The invitations have already been mailed,” Susan argued. “The wedding’s scheduled to take place right here in the downtown church. Our friends…” His mother paused and raked her fingers through her shoulder-length hair. “Oh, my goodness, we have friends driving all the way from California to attend our son’s wedding.”

  “Then apparently you’re going to have houseguests for a while,” Jacqueline said. “We’ll go to the country club afterward.”

  “But…but…” Susan sputtered.

  “It’s Alix’s wedding, too,” Jordan told his mother. “She tried very hard to be the kind of bride you wanted, but unfortunately that isn’t going to happen.”

  “This is the reason you disappeared, isn’t it?” Jacqueline asked.

  Alix nodded.

  Jordan brought her closer to his side. “Alix has been uncomfortable with this from the first and she did everything she could to let us know her feelings. But like you, I didn’t listen.”

  “You can’t cancel,” his mother insisted. “Not at this late date. Everything’s been arranged!”

  “Susan,” Jacqueline barked. “Get a grip here. This is their wedding.”

  “I apologize that all of this is last-minute,” Jordan said.

  “You want a small intimate wedding?” Jacqueline continued. “Then that’s what you’ll have. The people who are owed an apology are the two of you. Susan and I need to apologize for taking over the way we did.”

  Jordan’s mother was speechless.

  “A small wedding is what Alix has always wanted,” Jacqueline pointed out to Susan. “We were the ones who let things get out of hand. Reese told me that the other night. When Alix disappeared, he said I’d run roughshod over her, and he was right.”

  Alix bit her lip to hold back tears. How privileged she was to have these two wonderful friends.

  “I’ve had more time to adjust to this since Alix left,” Jacqueline said kindly. “Susan, once you’ve had a chance to think about it, you’ll see this is the best thing all around.”

  In her effort to build a positive relationship with her future mother-in-law, Alix had repeatedly given in to Susan’s demands. The hives had taught her a valuable lesson—denying her emotions didn’t mean they’d disappear.

  “I’m so sorry for causing all these problems,” Alix whispered, feeling guilty about the expectations she’d thwarted.

  “There’s no reason for you to apologize,” Jordan said, bringing her clenched hand to his lips and kissing her fingers. “You told us what you wanted and your wishes have been consistently ignored. That won’t happen again.”

  “You’re actually calling off the big wedding and planning some little gathering by the lake?” Susan obviously remained incredulous.

  Jordan nodded. “Yes, Mom.”

  “But I told you—the invitations have been mailed. The country club’s been booked, the dinner ordered. Everything’s in motion. I don’t know if it can be stopped.”

  “It can and it will,” Jordan said with complete confidence. “Alix and I are prepared to send out a second mailing.”

  “And say what?” she snapped. “How can you possibly explain what you’re doing?”

  “We have everything ready to mail. The notice states that we’ve decided on a private ceremony with only our family and a few friends in attendance.”

  His mother shook her head vehemently. “You can’t do that. Jordan, don’t you see what’s going to happen?” Her eyes widened with alarm. “If you cancel a church wedding at the last minute in favor of a private ceremony, people are going to talk…. It’ll hurt you. Alix,” she said, changing tactics. She turned to face her. “Is that how you want to start your married life, with speculation and…idle gossip as to why you and Jordan are marrying in…in secret?”

  “Susan,” Jacqueline urged a second time. “Let it go, will you?”

  “People can talk all they want,” Jordan said, discounting his mother’s concern. “Alix and I have nothing to hide. If there are rumors, they’ll go away soon enough.”

  “Does your father know about this?” she asked next.

  Jordan shook his head. “Alix and I plan to talk to Dad this afternoon.”

  “What about the reception?” Jacqueline inserted.

  The thing that bothered Alix most was the expense her friends had gone to on her behalf. “I’ll reimburse you, Jacqueline,” Alix promised. She had no idea how long it would take, but she was determined to pay back every dime the Donovans had invested in this wedding.

  “Nonsense,” Jacqueline said emphatically. “It’s my own fault. You didn’t ask me to set this up at the country club. As Reese was more than happy to remind me, I brought it on myself.” She leaned back against the sofa. “Do you remember the time I decided to give you a makeover?” she asked, and the memory brought with it a look of sheer amusement. “I took you to my French hairdresser and it was a catastrophe.”

  Alix rolled her eyes. Jacqueline had made a serious attempt to turn her into a beauty queen, with disastrous results. It’d all started when Jordan had asked her out to dinner; it was their first date and Alix had so badly wanted to look pretty for him. In her inimitable way, Jacqueline had decided to help. Not only was the hairstylist deeply offended by Alix’s lack of appreciation, but being forced to try on designer outfits of Jacqueline’s choosing had been a nightmare. Thankfully, Tammie Lee had come to the rescue.

  “Jordan,” Susan Turner said, turning to her son as if Alix wasn’t there. “Despite what Jacqueline says, I can’t allow you to do this. I can’t. I know you love Alix and so do I. We all do.” She spoke as if this was a foregone conclusion.

  But if that was the case, Alix found it odd that Jordan’s mother had shut her out of the conversation.

  “I just can’t let you throw away all our hard work. Don’t you realize Jacqueline and I have slaved on this wedding for weeks?”

  “If only you’d asked me,” Alix implored, answering for Jordan, “then none of this would be necessary.”

  “Okay,” Susan said, throwing her hands in the air. “I should’ve listened. Now that I think about it, I do recall your objections to certain aspects of the wedding. I agree we didn’t listen as well as we should have, but Alix, that isn’t any reason to flush all our hard work down the toilet.”

  Alix was grateful Jordan’s mother remembered her small protesting voice, although she’d ignored all her wishes at the time.

  “The only reason I went ahead with our plans,” Susan went on, “is that I have a lot of experience with weddings and I hoped…I believed you’d be interested in what I had to say.”

  “I was interested, but we didn’t want the same things,” Alix said.

  His mother released a deep sigh. “All right, then, I apologize. Nevertheless, it’s been done and while we can certainly make some changes, a lot of what’s already been decided will need to stay as it is.”

  “No, Mother, it doesn’t,” Jordan broke in. “Alix and I have made new arrangements. We spent the weekend creating our own wedding invitations. There are about twenty and each is handmade.” Jordan walked around the desk and passed one to his mother, who stared down at it stupefied.

  She looked it over, then glanced up, her expression carefully neutral.

  J
acqueline took it out of her hand and studied it. “You made these?” she asked.

  Jordan nodded. “Actually, Alix did most of the work. I helped where I could.”

  “They’re exceptional… Alix, I had no idea you were capable of something like this. I love the way you’ve incorporated the hand-knitted lace. What a lot of work!”

  “She’s baking the wedding cake, too.” Jordan looked pointedly at his mother. “It’ll be a three-tier traditional white cake, decorated with real flowers.”

  “Okay, fine.” Susan Turner pronounced the words slowly and distinctly as if dragging them through her teeth. “Since you’re so set on this, the only thing left to do is compromise.”

  “Mother,” Jordan said, more sternly this time. “Alix and I have made our decision. I’m sorry it isn’t one you like or approve of, but—” He shrugged. “That’s the way it’s going to be.”

  “It doesn’t mean we can’t compromise,” Susan tried again.

  Jordan shook his head. “Mom, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more to discuss. Alix and I are going to be married at Grandma’s place on Star Lake.”

  Susan looked helplessly at Jacqueline; Alix read her look and felt terrible. This wasn’t how she wanted her marriage to begin—with disappointments and regrets. For just an instant she wavered.

  Jordan’s hand tightened around hers. Alix knew he understood her need to please others and was forestalling any tendency to surrender.

  “Alix and I will be working on Grandma’s yard, getting it ready. It’s going to be a lovely wedding, our wedding, just the way Alix and I want it.”

  “Yes, I know, but…” All at once, her argument seemed to die. Susan’s shoulders sagged with defeat and she nodded glumly. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Alix assured her. “I’m going to need all kinds of help.”

  “What about me?” Jacqueline asked, eager not to be excluded.

  “You’ll both be vital to the success of our wedding.”

  Susan’s loud sigh reverberated in the small office. “I just hate letting all that food go to waste,” she murmured.

  “It won’t,” Alix promised. “We can talk to the caterer and reduce the order. We’re changing the menu a bit, but it’s still going to be exceptional. We’ll have tables set up outside and—”

  “You want an outside wedding?” Susan made it sound as if Alix had declared she wanted the ceremony performed underwater with Elvis as minister.

  “Yes,” Jordan answered for her. “Alix and I plan to be married in a place of beauty and peace, surrounded by those we love and not a group of strangers.”

  “But—” Whatever she’d intended to say was broken off. “It could rain,” Susan said, and seemed almost hopeful that it would.

  “No, it won’t,” Jordan said.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Ah, but I do,” he retorted. “I’ve already asked God to bless our day with sunshine.”

  CHAPTER 28

  “Sometimes in the chaos of everyday life, knitting represents the one thing over which I seem to have any control…and that is sometimes just an illusion.”

  —Joan Schrouder, well-traveled knitting teacher and tech answer guru on many knitting lists

  Lydia Goetz

  I couldn’t believe the change in Margaret after Julia had positively identified Danny Chesterfield. She actually looked taller to me. I told Brad while I was making dinner one night and he lowered the paper and stared at me. He seemed to think it was a silly comment. If he’d seen her at the store recently, he would’ve noticed the difference himself, especially after this past weekend. Margaret, the girls and I participated in the Relay for Life cancer walk. As it turned out, it was a positive and very emotional experience not only for us but for Amanda Jennings, a teenage cancer survivor I’d come to know. Julia, Amanda and I took part in the survivors’ walk. Margaret and Hailey walked later, taking the early morning shift in the twenty-four-hour event.

  I met Amanda through Annie Hamlin, daughter of my friend Bethanne. Two years ago, Annie came to me when Amanda was diagnosed with her second bout of cancer. I used to visit Amanda in the hospital back then, and we still keep in touch. Annie marched with us, too. Our conversation was lighthearted, and Amanda sounded like the teenager she is. She’d been in remission for fifteen months, and was doing well.

  We all were.

  I actually heard Margaret whistling one morning when she arrived for work. Whistling. I didn’t even know Margaret could whistle. Oh, she can do the kind of whistling where you insert two fingers in your mouth and let it rip. Even as a kid she was known for those ear-splitting blasts. This, however, was like a sweet song. Margaret! I hardly knew what to say—although not commenting was probably for the best.

  She was extra helpful, too. The minute a customer walked in, she was right there, offering service and advice or instructions as needed. She couldn’t do enough, which was a strong contrast to the previous weeks, when she’d glared at anyone who had the temerity to walk into the shop.

  This change in attitude was welcome for more reasons than the obvious. I’d missed her, missed our discussions and I’d especially missed her perspective concerning the changes in our mother’s life.

  Without burdening Margaret with a lot of details, Brad and I had started looking for a facility capable of dealing with Mom’s diminishing mental capabilities.

  Watching our mother decline was heart-wrenching. Several times I’d had to stop myself from telling my sister about Mom’s troubles. Until recently, we’d talked over every decision.

  In the beginning, Margaret balked and said I was exaggerating. She claimed I was worrying too much about one brief conversation with a nurse. I wished that was true, but I knew otherwise. Still, I realized Margaret had all she could cope with just then and I’d accepted that I should be the one to look after our mother.

  When I’d finished my lunch in the back office, there was a lull between customers. “Do you have a minute?” I asked as I joined my sister in the shop, thinking now would be a good time to discuss Mom.

  Margaret looked up from her crocheting. “Sure. What do you need?” I couldn’t remember Margaret ever being this agreeable.

  I sat down on the stool by the cash register. Anything to do with our mother drains me physically and I discovered I think better when I’m sitting. Everyone else needs to stand; it’s the opposite for me.

  “When’s the last time you were by to see her?” I asked.

  Margaret’s smile disappeared. “Sunday afternoon I went over and I took her out for a while.”

  Mom’s symptoms appeared more pronounced to me after the nurse had pointed them out. “How was she?”

  Margaret considered the question and lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “In a word—confused. We walked around a bit, because I thought the fresh air would do her good. I said you’d been checking out a few new facilities. Afterward she seemed to think I was looking at these places.” Margaret hesitated. “When I brought her back to her room, she gave me the biggest smile and said, ‘Look, this place has furniture just like mine.’”

  If it wasn’t so sad I might have laughed.

  “I saw Mom on Tuesday, and she didn’t remember Dad had died,” I told my sister. I’d had to fight back tears. It’d nearly broken my heart to tell my mother that our father had died four years ago. At first she refused to believe me and then, after a few minutes, she’d started asking about other people. Like her sister, who was gone, too. She and Mom had always been close. Then she wanted to know about a favorite neighbor. After a while, Mom just sat and stared at the wall. I had no idea how to comfort her, so I left, my stomach in one giant knot.

  “This memory loss isn’t all that recent,” Margaret commented. “I can’t say I see that much difference.”

  I frowned. Before Dad died, Mom was as mentally fit as anyone I knew.

  “Dad was aware that she was losing her memory, but he didn’t say
anything to you.”

  I stared at her in shock. And yet, I suppose it made sense that my father would share his concerns with my sister and not me. I’d been recovering from my second brain tumor and undergoing an ordeal that would forever mark me. It was just like my father to spare me any additional worry. Naturally, he would’ve discussed his apprehensions with Margaret.

  “In the beginning, after Dad died, the decline in Mom wasn’t all that noticeable,” I said. “To me, anyway.” I was still living at home. She seemed lost and grieving but that was to be expected after the death of her husband.

  “Dad was her brain,” Margaret said matter-of-factly. “For a while, after you opened the yarn shop, Matt and I thought about having her move in with us so I could keep an eye on her.”

  “You talked to Mom about this?”

  Margaret nodded. “She wouldn’t hear of it. Nevertheless, we didn’t like the idea of her living alone.”

  That caught my attention. Since I’d lived with my mother until I started my business, it was no wonder Margaret had felt so angry with me. My sister saw the fact that I’d launched my own life as an abandonment of our mother. I longed to explain the situation from my point of view so Margaret would appreciate my need for independence. But I couldn’t think of any way to do that without sounding defensive. Or selfish…

  “Last year, her health took a turn for the worse,” I said, returning to the subject of Mom’s condition. “And everything started to fall apart for her.”

  “Now the doctor’s taken her off the medication, too,” Margaret said.

  “The one that helped her memory,” I murmured.

  Margaret shrugged, not looking at me. She straightened the yarn on the worsted weight shelves, making busy work, I realized, because she didn’t really want to talk about this. Then, bluntly and to my complete surprise, she said, “Mom’s ready to die, you know.”

  An immediate protest came to my lips but I managed to swallow it, although I couldn’t hold back the tears.

  “I don’t think it’ll be much longer.”