Every Sunrise

by Tricia Goyer

  Emily glanced up, surprised.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do you need h-e-l-p?” Sam emphasized every letter in the word.

  “Yeah, of course. Are you going to tell me to call a friend?” Emily turned her attention back to her work.

  “I think your brother’s trying to be nice,” Grandpa said from the kitchen. He was slicing a large piece of banana bread, even though dinner was just an hour away.

  “Sure,” Emily tapped her pencil on the book. “It takes me ten minutes to work through one of these problems, but when I check my answer it’s still not right.”

  “Let me see.” Sam sank down in the seat next to her. His eyes scanned the problem. “Ah, I see that you’ve messed up the order of operations. You’re supposed to solve the part in the brackets first. Then you’ll be able to solve the rest.”

  Emily hit her forehead with a flat hand. “Duh, of course. I totally forgot. Thanks, Sam.”

  Sam nodded but he didn’t move. Grandma paused from Christopher’s spelling words and turned to him.

  “Do you have any homework, Sam?” Grandma tucked her gray hair behind her ear.

  “Uh, no. I turned in everything I need to.” Sam’s chest constricted as he thought about the essay due next Tuesday.

  Still, Sam convinced himself he wasn’t telling a lie. He had homework, but none he was planning to turn in. By the time it was due, he’d be long gone.

  Emily paused from her homework and turned to him. “So, are you planning to buy a flower for anyone at school on Friday?”

  Sam thought about a few girls who had turned his head lately, but he knew spending money on flowers was out of the question.

  “No. You?”

  “What’s up with you, Sam?” Emily dropped her pencil on her paper. “First you want to help me with math. Then you sit here and talk to me about flowers.”

  “You’re the one who brought up the flowers. I was just answering your question.”

  “Which doesn’t make sense.” Emily took one of the hair bands she had on her wrist and quickly put her blonde hair up into a ponytail. “Last week you were miserable to be around, and today you’re acting like we’re actually good friends or something.”

  Sam shrugged. “You don’t have to answer my question if you don’t want to, Emily.”

  Emily crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought about buying a flower for this guy at school—and I’m not going to say who—but it just seems weird to buy flowers for a guy, especially if they’ve given you no hint of liking you back.”

  “Do you think you’ll get one?” Sam leaned his chin on his fist, resting his elbow on the table. As he looked at Emily he realized how much she looked like their mom. He wondered if anyone noticed how much he looked like his dad. Even when he was little everyone always said it was obvious he was Kevin Slater’s son.

  “Okay, Christopher. That’s enough spelling today. We’ll go over them again tomorrow night, but it looks like you know them pretty well,” he heard his grandmother say.

  Christopher didn’t have to be told twice, and he hurried to the kitchen to cut himself a slice of banana bread.

  “Get a flower?” Emily’s eyes brightened. “I’m not sure. It would be cool if I did, but what if someone I don’t like gives me one? That would be awkward. Or what if it’s someone that I do like …” Emily lowered her voice. “Grandma and Grandpa would have a fit. So that would be hard, you know?”

  Sam nodded. He saw Emily looking over his shoulder. Then she leaned in close, whispering. “Grandma is totally spying on us. I think she’s even more worried about the flower than I am.”

  As if realizing she’d been caught, Charlotte rose and looked at her watch. “Oh, look at the time. I told Hannah I’d run three eggs over. She wanted to bake a cake and didn’t realize she was out. Do you mind if I stay for a cup of coffee too?” Sam watched as she approached him.

  “Nope. I don’t mind. Just going to watch a little TV until dinner.”

  “Yeah! Wheel of Fortune!” Christopher punched his fist into the air.

  His grandmother left, and Sam rose, realizing he had some things he wanted to put in the trunk of his car without prying eyes.

  “Wait.” Emily grabbed his arm. “Do you want to hear my plan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well … I was going to talk to Grandpa about putting on a surprise Valentine’s Day dinner for Grandma.”

  “Sorry, I’m not going to be here.”

  “But I was hoping for your help.”

  Sam shook his head, and he lowered his gaze, glancing down at Emily and trying not to feel like a total jerk for what he was going to do to her and Christopher. “Sorry.” His voice was firm. “I don’t cook. I don’t clean, and I don’t do sappy, romantic holidays. And I wish you luck at trying to get Grandpa involved with your scheme.”

  “Thanks a lot, Mr. Hyde.”

  Sam ignored her remark. “Besides,” he added, moving to the stairway leading to his room, “I’m staying the night at Paul’s house, remember?”

  Chapter Ten

  Charlotte added a touch of red food coloring to the pancake batter and then attempted to make heart-shaped pancakes on the griddle. She chuckled, realizing they looked more like Mickey Mouse ears—but at least she tried.

  “Wow, Grandma, you’re going all out for Valentine’s Day.” Sam sniffed the air as he sauntered into the room. He glanced from the griddle to the stovetop. “You want me to make the syrup?”

  “Sure.”

  Charlotte eyed her grandson suspiciously, wondering who’d replaced the moody teen. In the days since his birthday celebration Sam’s attitude had improved. Maybe Bob’s talk had done some good after all. But Charlotte still thought his cheerfulness seemed a little too forced.

  Charlotte’s first reaction was wondering just what Sam was up to. Maybe he was trying to butter her up before a bad progress report showed up in the mail. Or maybe he was going to try to talk her into getting one of those new video gaming systems. Then again, at least he was smiling.

  I should just enjoy his attitude while I have the chance.

  “Yes, syrup would be great. The corn syrup, brown and white sugar, and maple flavoring are above the stove.” She pointed to the correct cupboard.

  “Cool. I’ll be right back,” he hurriedly carried a white plastic garbage bag to the door.

  Charlotte eyed it suspiciously. “What do you have in there?”

  Sam glanced back and shrugged. “Just junk mostly. Old magazines. My old, torn-up sneakers. You know, stuff like that. I thought I’d clean up my room.”

  Charlotte flipped the pancake, hearing the sound of Emily humming as she headed to the shower upstairs. “Wow, Sam, I think you’re the one who’s going all out this morning. Did Grandpa give you another lecture I didn’t hear about?”

  “No, I thought I’d do it just because.” He opened the door, letting in a gust of cold air. “Be right back, and I’ll get started on that syrup.”

  Bob sauntered down the hall from the bedroom, rubbing a hand down his smoothly shaved face.

  “Was that Sam? He’s up and out early this morning.”

  “Actually, I’m not sure it was Sam. He cleaned his room and offered to help with breakfast. Maybe seventeen finally kicked in and he’s decided to approach life with a little more maturity.”

  “Humph.” Bob poured himself a cup of coffee. “We’ll have to see about that.”

  Bob stepped behind Charlotte and offered her a peck on the cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Then he reached in his large overalls pocket and pulled out a card, placing it on the counter in front of her.

  Charlotte felt her heartbeat quicken slightly. She turned and gave her husband a big hug. “Bob Stevenson, I think you have just made this my best Valentine’s Day ever.”

  He chuckled in her ear. “But you haven’t even opened it yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter what it says. It’s the fact that you went out and bought a card. Th
at’s enough.” She wiped her hand on the kitchen towel and then opened the envelope.

  Bob moved to the dining room table. “So maybe Emily was right. It’s the thought that counts.”

  Charlotte opened the card, noticing a photograph of a pretty floral arrangement on the front under the words, “For my wife.” There was a nice poem inside, but she had to admit that she was slightly disappointed that he’d only scribbled the words, “Love, Bob.” There was no sweet note, no tickets to the movie theater in Harding, no invitation for dinner out. Charlotte noticed Bob’s eyes on her and she smiled.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. I love it,” she said enthusiastically.

  Sam hurried back inside, washed his hands, and then pulled out the ingredients he needed for syrup. “How much sugar?” Sam got out the measuring cups.

  “Two cups brown, two cups white.”

  He measured them and put them in the pot.

  “And corn syrup?”

  “One-half cup, and one teaspoon of maple flavoring.”

  He whisked all the ingredients together on the stove top, and Charlotte tried to ignore the sticky mess he was creating. What’s important is that he’s helping.

  Sam finished mixing those, then he looked at her expectantly.

  “Now add four cups of water,” she instructed. “Then bring it to a gentle boil.”

  She watched him as he worked, noticing how tall he’d gotten, how diligent he could be when he set his mind on something.

  Thank you, Lord. I’ll take this glimmer of hope. It’s better than any roses and chocolate. She smiled at Sam as she watched him stir. It’s a great Valentine’s gift. The best.

  THE SYRUP WAS HOT AND BUBBLY, and Charlotte carried some bacon and a large stack of steaming, red “heart” pancakes to the table. Four male faces looked at her with expectation, and as soon as she set the plate down, four forks scooped up the pancakes and plopped them on their plates.

  “Where’s Emily?” Pete asked as he poured a heaping ladle of syrup on his pancakes.

  “Oh, you know. Up there trying to improve her looks.” Sam smirked.

  “Sam—” Charlotte frowned.

  “I didn’t mean anything bad. Just stating she’s trying to get dressed up for Valentine’s Day.”

  As if on cue, Emily jogged down the stairs. She was wearing a red, fuzzy sweater. The sweater fit a little big on Emily and it hung low over black leggings.

  “You look lovely, Emily. That sweater looks great on you. And I like your hair that way.”

  Emily touched the back of her head where her hair had been twisted up and was held with a large clasp.

  “Thanks, I saw in one of my magazines how to do this updo.”

  “Updoo?” Christopher chuckled with his fork halfway to his mouth. “You put doo in your hair? Emily, that’s gross.”

  “Haha, very funny.”

  Emily scanned the table and wrinkled her nose.

  “The peanut butter’s on the counter, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Charlotte pointed to the large jar.

  “Thanks, Grandma.” Emily grabbed it and sat down with the others, smearing a big peanut butter glob on her pancakes.

  “At least she’s eating some protein. It’s just not natural for a girl not to eat meat,” Bob stated, as if it was the first time they’d all heard it—which it wasn’t.

  “I get protein.” Emily fixed her eyes on her grandfather and shook her head. “Remember, I was drinking that protein shake when I was watching you fix Sam’s car?”

  “Your car’s running?” Christopher sat up straighter. “I call shotgun!”

  “Yeah, we got it done, after school.” Bob nodded. “The part worked great. It should keep it going for at least another week or two.”

  Sam frowned and glanced at the clock, and then turned to Emily. “You better hurry. I’m leaving in ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes?” Emily’s eyes grew wide. “There’s no way. I still need to paint my nails and fix my makeup. I can’t go to school like this.”

  Charlotte waited for a smart remark from Sam. Instead, he just rolled his eyes and shook his head in disgust.

  “Then you’ll have to ride the bus, because I can’t be late for class, Emily.” Sam’s voice was firm. “You’re always making me late.”

  “Who are you now? Mr. Responsible?”

  “And is something wrong with that?” Sam’s voice rose. “I have people on my case if I mess up—and apparently I have them on my case if I do something right!”

  “Never mind, Emily.” Charlotte patted Sam’s arm. “I think we can all see a difference in you. A good difference.” She glanced to her granddaughter. “I can give you a ride. I have to pick up some things from Herko’s for dinner tonight as it is. Sam, why don’t you go ahead with Christopher?”

  “Thanks, Grandma.” Emily rose and hurried back upstairs. “I’ll be down as quick as I can.”

  Bob stared in disbelief at Emily’s plate, still mostly full of food. “She just thinks she eats,” he grunted.

  “Come on, pipsqueak, time to head for school.” Sam took his dishes to the sink, grabbed his backpack, and then headed out the door.

  “Pipsqueak?” Christopher slid on his jacket and then scratched his head. “I’m not a pipsqueak. Grandpa even said I’m growing taller, right Grandpa?”

  “That’s right, sport, I did.”

  Christopher’s face brightened as he grabbed his backpack and headed out the door. “Hey, Sam, wait up.”

  Charlotte watched as Christopher ran out to Sam’s car and climbed in. It looked cold outside, and the gray clouds on the horizons hinted of snow.

  She turned to Bob and shook her head. “I’m not sure which has more duct tape—that car or that backpack.”

  “Both.” He winked.

  Keep them safe, Lord, she prayed as she watched Sam drive away. Hold them in your hands. And, if you wouldn’t mind, keep that old car running too. Because as far as I can tell, it will take a miracle.

  EMILY BLEW ON HER NAILS as Charlotte drove her little Ford to town. The heater was turned to the maximum, but it hadn’t warmed up yet. It still blew lukewarm air on them.

  “Good thing I didn’t ride with Sam,” Emily shook her hot-pink fingers in the air. “His heater works about as well as the rest of his car—which is almost not at all. I’m sure my fingers would have froze on the way there. Do you think nail polish freezes? I suppose it could, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm, I don’t know.” Charlotte glanced at Emily from the corner of her eye, noticing her granddaughter was prattling on. Emily always seemed to prattle when she was nervous. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve painted my nails, and I don’t really think I’ve thought about it freezing before.”

  “Oh, maybe we should do that, Grandma. After I get home from school I can paint your nails.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I don’t paint them because it’s too much upkeep. My hands are in and out of the water all day, and the polish is usually chipped by the next day.”

  Charlotte looked to Emily and the disappointment on her face was evident.

  “Then again, maybe it would be nice for Valentine’s Day. Do you have any other colors—something that will look okay on an old lady?”

  “Grandma, you’re not that old. In California some of my friends’ parents were as old as you. One of my friends’ mom was fifty when she adopted her.”

  “Wow, that is ancient.” Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I’m just a wee bit older than that.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t look it. The farm life has been good to you.” Emily paused. “Grandma, did you live on a farm growing up?”

  Charlotte straightened in her seat. “No, actually, I grew up right downtown in a very busy city.”

  “A city? Really?”

  “Well, we thought it was a city, because we had everything we needed close by, unlike others—like your grandpa, who lived way out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Where was this city?
Was it in Nebraska?”

  “Yes, it was Bedford.”

  “Bedford?” the name shot from Emily’s lips. “Bedford’s not a city!”

  “Oh, we thought it was. It was bigger then. And a lot of people worked in town. My father managed the movie theater in town—”

  “Movie theater? When did we have one of those?”

  “It was back in the early sixties, when I was in junior high and high school. For a while I was one of the most popular kids in school. Everyone asked if they could spend the night at my house on weekends because they knew that meant a free movie. Unfortunately, the theater burned down when I was a junior, and overnight my social life seemed to go up in smoke too.”

  Emily’s jaw dropped open. “That’s sad and so unfair.” Satisfied her nails were dry, she tucked them into her jacket pockets. “That’s strange. I always pictured you on the farm.”

  “Well, my grandparents on my mother’s side lived on a farm. It’s only about fifteen miles away. We’ll have to drive you by the area sometime. Of course, they sold that about the same time I married your grandpa. It’s a big business now, but last time I was out that direction the old homestead was still there. My grandparents fed cattle for market and raised corn and soybeans. I spent a lot of time out there growing up, especially in the summers, so I knew what I was getting into when I married your grandfather.”

  “What else did you do? In town, I mean. Life must have been pretty boring.”

  “Not really. In junior high my girlfriend and I used to hang around the tennis courts at the high school. A lot of high school guys met there—and sometimes we even played tennis.” Charlotte laughed. In her mind’s eye she remembered the first time she saw Bob. He’d been goofing off with a friend, but she hardly gave him any mind. Bob had been too tall, too skinny, and too much of a show-off. Of course, by the time she’d met him again at the end of her junior year, all those issues had been resolved. He’d changed—or maybe she had.

  “Is that all?”

  “Well, sometimes we’d go to the soda fountain and get a root beer for a dime. Of course, that isn’t around any more. Aunt Rosemary’s Fabrics and Fun took over that spot about five years ago, but in between there was a beauty shop, a shoe store, and even a pet shop.”