by Lois Richer
“I always liked your peach pie.” Neil’s quiet voice broke the silence that had fallen. He covered his wife’s hand with his own. “Nobody can make a peach pie like you, Arabella.”
Kelly gulped at the rush of love that flowed from her mother to her father when she smiled and patted his hand, and wondered how long it would be before her father couldn’t remember their shared past. Would she still be here?
“Thank you, dear. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Perhaps I’ll make you a fresh peach pie this summer,” Arabella said in a tender voice Kelly hadn’t heard in many years.
Suddenly, she felt someone watching her. She lifted her head and caught Sam studying her. When he smiled, something passed between them, some invisible thread that held her spellbound and wouldn’t let her look away.
“Are we havin’ that cake for d’sert?” Sadie’s inquisitive gaze moved from Sam to Kelly. “You two look funny,” she said. “Did that salad make your tummy no good?”
The comment, added to the scrutiny of the others at the table suddenly turned on them, made Kelly blush. She gulped, forced a laugh then said, “My tummy is good, thanks, Sadie. And yes, that cake is certainly for dessert. Have you had enough chili?”
“Uh-huh. It was good.” The little girl climbed out of her booster seat and carried her plate to the counter. Then she took Emma’s and Sam’s plates and lastly her grandparents’. That task completed, she returned to her seat and grinned at Kelly. “We’re all ready for the d’sert.”
“Thank you, sweetie. That’s very helpful.” Kelly shot a dark look at Sam, whose shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. She carried her own plate to the counter and returned with the cake and a stack of dishes.
“It looks too pretty to cut,” Emma whispered.
“Thank you, Emma. That’s such a nice compliment.” Kelly smiled at her and held out the table knife. “Would you like to cut it?”
Emma’s eyes stretched wide. “Can I?” she asked in a breathless voice.
“I want to.” Sadie jumped to her feet and hurried around the table to stand at Kelly’s elbow. “I’ll do it,” she insisted.
Kelly wasn’t sure what to do as Emma’s face fell. Thankfully, she didn’t have to do anything because Sam intervened.
“Kelly asked Emma,” he said quietly. “Maybe you can cut it next time, Sadie.”
“No. Emma can’t.” Sadie glared at him, her blue eyes angry, her posture tense. “I want to do it.”
“Sit down at the table, Sadie. Emma will cut the cake.” Sam’s voice brooked no argument, though it was neither raised nor louder. It was, however, very clear that he was serious.
Sadie stood her ground for several moments, glaring at him. When she finally accepted that Sam wouldn’t change his mind, she stomped back to her seat, pinching Emma on the way. Sam moved with lightning-quick reflexes, scooping Sadie from her chair and carrying her from the room amid loud protests. After their departure, silence reigned for a moment until Kelly beckoned to Emma.
“Come, Emma. It’s time to taste whether this cake is any good.” She watched the little girl hesitate, cast a glance toward the bedroom she shared with Sadie then shake her head.
“Sadie can cut it,” she whispered.
“Sadie is all finished with lunch,” Sam said in a calm voice as he returned to the table. “She’s staying in her room for now.”
That didn’t seem to persuade Emma. She remained in her chair, refusing to move until Neil whispered, “Cut me a big piece, please, Emma? I love cake.”
A tiny smile crept across her face as her eyes met his. Slowly, she slid out of her chair and walked around the table to Neil. “With lots of icing?” she said in her hushed voice.
“With lots of everything,” he whispered back.
“Okay.” Emma proceeded to cut the cake. But Kelly barely noticed as her gaze slid to Sam’s.
Did you hear that? she asked without speaking aloud. Emma spoke in a normal tone of voice. One word, but still.
Sam nodded at her as if he understood exactly what she meant. His sober glance rested on the little girl, watching as she cut cake then served some to everyone.
“This is for me?” he asked when Emma set a plate before him. She nodded. “Thank you. Is that piece for you?”
“Uh-uh. That’s Sadie’s,” Emma murmured, back to her soft tone. “I don’t want any.”
“Oh, honey.” Sam’s sad look made the little girl frown. “Kelly made this cake for us. She’s going to think you don’t like it.”
“I like cake, but—” Emma stared at the cake platter longingly. “Not t’day,” she said stoutly.
“I wish you did.” Sam sighed in a long-suffering manner. “I like sharing. I was hoping you and I could eat our cake together. Please?” he wheedled.
“Okay.” Emma grinned and hopped up on his knee. “I gived you the biggest piece,” she confided. “’Cause you’re the bestest uncle in the whole world.” Then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.
Thanks to Sam’s adept handling of the situation, everyone, including Emma, was able to enjoy their dessert. Except Kelly. She couldn’t stop thinking about the little girl in her bedroom who didn’t have any cake. She ate only a tiny corner of her dessert, intending to save it for Sadie, but Sam caught on and when Emma left to talk to Neil, he moved the plate back in front of her.
“Sadie has to learn not to bully, Kelly,” he murmured for her ears alone. “I’m even more convinced now that’s what is at the root of Emma’s whispering. It has to stop.”
“I know.” She took a small forkful of the cake. It tasted like dust.
“You’re a softie, that’s all.” His grin didn’t mock or tease. Instead, it seemed to Kelly that they shared a sweet moment of common thinking before he rose, obviously intending to leave the room.
“Not that soft,” she said. “You’re on cleanup duty. No argument now. It sets a bad example.” His mother and father had just stepped through the door and she burst out laughing at Sam’s chagrined look as he glanced at Emma then began rinsing the plates Emma had cleared.
“I’ve been trying to get my son to help out in the kitchen for nearly thirty years,” Verna explained, eyes gaping as she watched Sam work. “I don’t know how you managed it, Kelly, but I’m indebted. I’ve always believed children should be raised knowing how to care for themselves.”
“I care for myself,” Sam protested with a pseudohurt look.
“TV dinners and eating out the rest of the time are not caring for yourself. You work hard, son. You need to eat nutritiously. I won’t always be there to cook for you.” She winked at Kelly. “No wife wants a man who can’t handle a little kitchen duty.”
“I don’t have a wife, Mother,” Sam pointed out.
“Exactly my point.” Verna nudged Jock. “You can help him. Neil, too. The females are taking a break from KP.” She took Arabella’s hand on one side and Kelly’s on the other and scooted Emma in front of them out of the kitchen.
“Kelly, where’s your ‘feel sorry’ for me?” Sam asked before she left.
“At the bottom of that bowl of salad, I think,” she mumbled. She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t want to be a softie,” she shot back with a smug smile. “Besides,” she added very quietly, “you said you like sharing.”
His groan followed her into the living room.
Wasn’t it fun to laugh and share with Sam?
This, Kelly decided, was what home should feel like.
* * *
Sam brought Sadie from her room once he’d finished cleaning the kitchen, but not before he explained about how she’d made Emma feel. Sadie asked him a hundred questions of course, but in the end Sam was confident she understood that a repeat of her behavior would be punished.
But the twins were bored. Kelly had put Jacob Samuel
down for his nap and had to return to resettle him twice when the girls’ rowdiness disturbed him.
“I’m running out of ideas to entertain them,” he confided to Kelly when Arabella and Neil had retired to escape the mayhem, though they said it was to rest. His parents had gone to his place claiming the same thing. “Any suggestions?”
Kelly’s lovely brown eyes met his. She nodded slowly. “I might have. But I need twenty minutes or so to prepare.”
“I can do twenty minutes more. I think.” He managed, but by the end of it, Sam was bone tired and a little frustrated that all his former tactics weren’t keeping the girls entertained. Thankfully, Kelly returned, her arms laden with materials.
“What’s all this?” he asked, taking some of the things from her and setting them on the table.
“Well, I thought maybe the twins could help me make an album of these pictures I have.”
Though Sam knew Kelly was speaking to the twins, the display of photos she was arranging tweaked his interest big-time.
“You want to make a picture book like the mish-nary had at church today?” Sadie asked.
“Yes. Sort of.” Kelly smiled at the little girl then tapped the tip of her nose with one finger. “Would you and Emma mind helping me?”
“We don’t mind,” Sadie assured her after a quick look at Emma, who nodded then asked, “An’ Uncle Sam, too?”
“Of course Uncle Sam can help us, if he wants to.” Kelly looked straight at him, a question in her dark brown eyes.
Sometimes he felt she was intentionally putting a distance between them. He attributed it to her determination to find her own way to deal with the twins. Or maybe he was making something out of nothing. Lately, he’d been coming and going so much now that calving was in full swing. Sam got preoccupied with constantly checking on the mums and the new arrivals.
At least Sam hoped he was wrong and everything was okay with Kelly. She’d had to make a big adjustment to the twins’ constant questions and Jacob Samuel’s loud demands, but he thought she was managing. He hoped.
“Where are the pictures from?” He leaned next to her to study them more closely.
“Australia and New Zealand. I hope you don’t mind. I borrowed Marina’s equipment to print them. She has a fantastic setup for photos. Had,” she corrected softly. A mistiness passed through her eyes, but she blinked it away.
“That is a kangaroo,” he told Emma, who seemed entranced by the picture.
“Wallaby,” Kelly corrected. “A common mistake. Wallabies are a little smaller than kangaroos and more colorful.”
“Okay, but I know that’s a koala.” Sam couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from the photo of the baby animal with its arms around Kelly’s neck. “I always planned to go and see them.” The words slipped out of his mouth without thinking.
“I loved them,” Kelly murmured, a certain wistfulness on her face.
“You look very happy. It must have been a wonderful day.” He wondered if there was another reason she was grinning so widely for the camera. “Who took the picture?”
“Just—a friend.” Her slight hesitation before the last two words told him that friend had meant a lot to her.
“Do you still keep in touch?” Sam asked then chided himself for prying. It was none of his business, and yet he couldn’t suppress his curiosity.
“Not really.” She moved away from him, but the soft floral scent of her perfume lingered like the hint of sadness that clung to her voice. “We served a term on board together, but he’s married now, with a family. He lives in Turkey.” She caught her breath then explained to the girls, “This picture was taken in a faraway place called Australia.” She glanced at Sam then at the photos. “I was there often but not for a long time. But it was really fun.”
“Mostly because it was warm?” he teased, chuckling when he saw the truth flush her face. “How many sweaters are you wearing today?”
“Three,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to warm up.”
“No wonder. It’s cool in here.” Sam rose, walked to the thermostat and frowned. “It’s not even at 70.”
“I didn’t want to run up your energy bill. Mom said heating is pricey out here,” Kelly said.
Sam couldn’t hide the grimace that twisted his lips. Arabella said too much. Couldn’t God do something, help her move?
“I was trying to save you a few dollars,” she defended.
“Kelly, we’re not broke. We can afford to heat the house,” he said, his voice unintentionally stern. His gaze held hers for a long moment before he turned away and flicked the dial upward. Immediately, the furnace kicked in. “Don’t take Arabella’s word. I’ll tell you if we need to cut back, and the first thing won’t be heat.”
She nodded. Sam watched the warmth filling the room chase away her chills. He swallowed his irritation, wondering what else she was cutting back on because of Arabella.
“Tell me if you need something.” He’d better check the grocery stocks. Kelly preferred her coffee stronger than the brew her mother made, and she always added a splash of cream. She also favored fresh fruit and vegetables to frozen or canned. They weren’t cheap in winter, but Sam’s mother had told him Kelly was determined to make the kids’ diets nutrient rich.
“How do we start making the book?” Sadie asked.
Sam observed as Kelly organized supplies she must have found in Marina’s office. He made sure a car was available whenever she needed it, but Kelly had only been to town once. She must have bought the two photo albums then.
“I thought you girls could glue the pictures in the books. There are two of everything so you can each make your own book,” she explained. “You can clip and arrange them any way you like. Uncle Sam and I will help if you need it.”
Hoping this exercise would fill in some time, Sam left to make coffee. When he returned with two steaming mugs, he could see the twins were enjoying using their glue sticks and plastic scissors to fill their books.
“Here’s a cup of coffee. I hope I put in enough cream.” He watched her taste it.
“Perfect,” Kelly said with a smile. “I needed this.” She listened to Emma’s quiet question about a particular photo. “That’s Ayers Rock. It’s a huge piece of stone that sticks out of the ground. Lots of people go to see it and climb up it.”
“I want to go there,” Sadie said, thumping on her picture to make it stick.
“Me, too,” Sam agreed almost under his breath.
“Perhaps one day you will.” Kelly’s quiet tone seemed directed at Sadie, but her glance rested on him. “If you do, don’t miss the sunrise,” she murmured. “It’s spectacular. One of the area’s Aboriginal people showed me a fantastic spot to see it.”
“You should do a presentation at the high school one day,” he said. “Or maybe at the seniors’ hall. People in Buffalo Gap are starting to travel more widely.”
“Sheena asked if she could call me with questions her clients have,” Kelly confided. “I agreed, though I’m not sure she needs my help. She seems very knowledgeable.”
“Sheena traveled a fair bit with her sister, but that was several years ago,” Sam said in a quiet voice. “I thought she’d lost interest in traveling by herself.”
He and Naomi had talked long and often about traveling. Guilt suffused him as he realized he could no longer visualize Naomi’s face without looking at her picture. The thought shamed Sam. He’d loved her; why couldn’t he remember her?
“I hope she starts again,” Kelly said. “Travel certainly broadens your horizons.”
“I doubt Sheena ever went to as many places as you,” Sam said with a grin. “But she shares your yen for warmer climes.”
“What’s a clime?” Sadie wanted to know.
“A warmer clime is where your auntie Kel goes, so she doesn’t have to wear thre
e sweaters to keep warm. Oh, two sweaters. She’s taken one off.” Sam chuckled when Kelly glowered at him. “Are you two going to finish putting all these pictures in your books today?”
“Yes.” Emma at least had no doubt.
Sam leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee, finding a sweet contentment in the sight of the two girls squabbling amicably over whose book would look the best. He pushed away the wayward reflection that it was Kelly’s presence that kept him there.
By the time Jacob Samuel woke from his afternoon nap, the albums were finished and the twins had moved on to creating their own Ayers Rock with blocks. Kelly removed the bits of glue the twins hadn’t cleaned off the table while Sam changed the baby, got him a bottle then returned to sit at the table with him, watching Kelly assemble scraps of fabric from a bag.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously after she’d rejected more bits of cloth than she’d accepted.
“Choosing what I’ll use in my next quilt,” Kelly explained.
“You quilt, too?” Sam shook his head. “The ladies around here are going to love you. Ever since Abby came to town and got a quilt group started, the females of Buffalo Gap have gone nuts about quilting.”
“So I’ve heard. But they make much larger quilts than me. I do pictures. They’re called art quilts, but they’re small so they’re not really quilts at all. I like them because I can do them on the ship. All I need is a simple sewing machine, some colored thread and some fabric bits. Marina has, had—” She stopped, swallowed.
Sam could see from the wince she gave that it still hurt to say her sister’s name. “Go on,” he encouraged.
“I brought some stuff along to start a new project. Marina’s pictures gave me an idea,” Kelly explained. “I thought I’d do a picture of the kids.”
Sam questioned her extensively about the process, intrigued by her craft.
“I’ll be interested in seeing the end product.” He glanced around. “By the way, thank you for putting Marina’s pictures back up. It didn’t feel like a home without them.”
“The girls told me that I didn’t put them up exactly as they were.” Kelly shrugged. “I did my best. I’m glad you don’t mind what I’ve done.”
