by Hanson
Cesar was in the living room fiddling with the TV remote. “I have an idea. Let's rent a movie to watch after Izzy goes to bed. Maybe make some popcorn and snuggle on the couch?”
“Sounds nice,” Elena said, forcing a smile.
She’d hoped to take a long, hot bath and get to bed really early; but she didn't want Cesar to think she was too tired to spend time with him.
“Izzy can come with us and pick out something she would like to watch tomorrow.”
“It's nearly her bedtime. Why don't you go while I get her ready for bed?”
“You might not like what I pick out.”
“Just so long as it's not one of those violent police movies. I worry about your job enough.”
“Movies are fantasy. I’d like to see how movie bad guys would do in a real court of law.”
“No cop movies,” Elena said emphatically. “And I’d rather you didn't get some science-fiction flick that doesn't make sense.”
“See why you should come with me?”
“No, I’ll put Izzy to bed. She’ll be up early tomorrow for Sunday school.”
“That's a plan,” he said, “but don't blame me if you don't like what I pick.”
Elena was pretty sure it didn't matter. She would probably be sound asleep on the couch before it was half over anyway.
Before she could start Izzy's bath, the phone rang. She answered it a bit reluctantly, hoping it wasn't an emergency at the hospital that would require overtime work.
“Elena, this is Maggie Owens from church. Have you heard about the big pie sale the women's group is holding to raise money for disaster relief?”
“Yes, I think I read about it in last week's bulletin.”
“We’re asking everyone to donate pies. It's such a good cause with all the earthquakes and floods. Can I put you down for three?”
“Three pies? When would you need them?”
“You can drop them off Saturday or before the service Sunday.”
“That's next weekend?”
“Yes. They can be any flavor. We’re a little short on fruit pies: cherry, apple, or any kind of berry.”
“Cherry, I could do cherry,” Elena said. She would use a canned pie filling, much quicker than peeling apples which weren't that great this time of year anyway.
“Great, thanks so much, Elena.”
Had she just agreed to make three pies? She’d have to make homemade crust to make up for the canned filling. Some of the women would make luscious creations that were sure to be popular. It would be embarrassing if her pies were the only ones that didn't sell.
She put the costume directions on her sewing machine so she wouldn't have to hunt for them to take to work Monday morning. Did she have a task force meeting after work that day? She was too tired to remember, but one happy thought kept her going. Cesar was going to the pastor's new class with her tomorrow evening.
Dear Lord, please let this small beginning open Cesar's heart to faith, she prayed.
“Grandmother!” Izzy called in her most demanding tone. “I need you!”
Elena walked into her granddaughter's bedroom and gave her a weary smile.
“I forgot about the things. I have to take them to school on Monday.”
“What things?” Elena searched her mind but couldn't remember a note from the teacher that mentioned bringing anything to school.
“You know, I have to bring three things that can be ’cycled.”
“Do you mean recycled?”
“Yes, the note was in my backpack.”
“But you didn't show it to me.”
“I forgot, but I have to take them.”
“Well, I’m glad you think it's important to do your homework, but I wish you’d shown me the note when you came home from school Friday.”
Had she even been home right after school? Elena wondered whether she was being unfair to Izzy. Her granddaughter often bubbled over with excitement about things that happened in school, but once she’d given her news of the day to any adult in the family, she completely put it out of her mind.
“I told Daddy.”
“Well, let's look in our bins in the garage and see what we have.”
It should have been simple, but everything in their bins had been picked up Friday, leaving little for Izzy to take to school. There was a vinegar bottle, but Elena vetoed taking glass to school. The only tin can had a sharp edge, another no-no as far as Elena was concerned.
She found last week's church bulletin in a basket on the kitchen counter and finally convinced Izzy that it was large enough to recycle. Izzy turned down a section of newspaper but agreed to take a magazine of Elena's that was two months old but still unread because she simply hadn't had time.
They were still searching for a third item when Cesar got home with a movie about penguins.
“The clerk said it was really good,” he said.
“Can I watch too?” Izzy asked.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Cesar said. “Isn't it past your bedtime?”
Elena explained the difficulty they were having, and he saved the day by donating a plastic cup he’d gotten at a basketball game last year.
Cesar volunteered to read a story when Izzy was finally tucked into bed, which gave Elena time for a quick shower. She joined him in the living room and settled down on the couch with her head on his shoulder.
The only penguins she saw were in her dreams.
Chapter Fifteen
SUNDAYS WERE BITTERSWEET FOR CANDACE. SHE loved having the day off and taking her children to Sunday school. Howie had learned not to squirm and whisper so much during the church service, and Brooke was eager to attend because she often sat with a friend. Still, she couldn't help remembering how Dean had helped her carry baby equipment, dry cereal, and quiet games to keep their children happy during the service. The days when he read the Scripture lesson were her favorites, and she could still remember his melodious voice bringing life to Bible passages.
Before the service began, while Howie was whispering earnestly to his grandmother, she silently thanked the Lord for the many blessings in her life. For years her heart had been frozen and she couldn't imagine finding happiness with another man, yet now she was in love with Heath Carlson. Today she prayed for the wisdom she and Heath needed to determine the next steps in their relationship.
“Grammy said to ask you if I can go to her old friend's house after lunch,” Howie asked urgently, interrupting Candace's silent prayer.
Candace looked over at her mother and saw her nod of approval. Some Sundays Janet liked to call on an elderly friend Agnes. Howie loved to go with her because she had a player piano and lots of rolls to go with it. Agnes let him pump away at it, even providing a low stool so his feet could reach the pedals.
“All right,” Candace said, “if you’re very good in church.”
That afternoon she found herself home alone with Brooke for the first time in several days. She hadn't mentioned her birthday party lately, and Candace hoped that meant she’d given up on wanting boys to attend.
She was wrong.
As soon as Janet and Howie left the house for their visit, Brooke found Candace in the kitchen making a batch of cookies for the children's lunches that week.
“Mother, we need to talk,” Brooke said.
“We can do that,” Candace said with a smile she hoped would start her daughter off on the right foot. “What's up?”
“I know my birthday party is going to be awful. My friends want to do something besides stand around and talk to each other.”
Candace had so little experience in dealing with this end-of-the-world mentality. She steadied her nerves, trying to keep her cool. “I think we have a lot planned, honey. We’ve discussed this. There are games, use of the Y's facilities—”
“You have a lot planned.”
“That's not fair,” Candace said, using one of her daughter's favorite phrases. “You wanted to have it at the Y. You chose the refreshments.”
�
�Please, Mother, it's not about where we’re having it. Tiffany is having boys at her party. I don't know why I can’t.”
“Oh, Brooke, we’ve already talked about this too many times.” She knew it was futile to go over the same arguments again.
“You’ve talked about it. You never listen to my side.”
Candace's first instinct was to deny her daughter's accusation, but it was like talking to a brick wall.
“I only want to invite nice boys,” Brooke wailed, getting increasingly dramatic. “Not boys who get in trouble or anything like that.”
“I don't know what more to say,” Candace said in a weary voice. “I’m the mother. Sometimes mothers have to make decisions their children don't like or understand.”
“Mother, there you go again with the ‘children’ stuff. You still think I’m a child. I’ll be a teenager, Mother. Doesn't that mean anything to you?”
Candace was beginning to think it meant one long argument, but she didn't say so. And the most ironic part was that Brooke was acting more like a child than ever.
“Do you want me to cancel the party?” She wasn't sure that the Y would refund her deposit, but she was at her wit's end.
“No! Everyone has a party when they’re thirteen. I just want mine to be a fun party.”
“You have a lot of friends. I’m sure they’ll enjoy getting together.”
“Oh, Mother. You don't understand.”
Candace thought that she understood only too well. She only shook her head in frustration.
“Will you do one thing for me, just one small thing?” Brooke asked. “Please, please, just think about it. Don't say no for sure. Is that too much to ask?”
“All right. I’ll think about it, but don't get your hopes up. I don't think I’ll change my mind.”
Brooke thanked her profusely and then ran up to her room where she spent most of her time these days.
Candace was a great advocate of classes for new mothers. Maybe the parents of teens needed them even more.
The house was quiet, almost too quiet, but she couldn't think of anything but her daughter's transformation from loving child to demanding teen. Too restless to settle down after the cookies were done, she wandered through the house until she ended up in front of the bookcase that held the family's memory books. She pulled out a scrapbook that held many of Brooke's early photographs and took it to the couch.
Who was this girl who now challenged her at every turn? Where did she get her stubborn streak? Candace was sure it wasn't from either of her parents. She opened the book and looked at a photo of the tiny, red-faced creature who had brought so much joy to her parents’ lives when she was born.
When she came to the pictures taken on the day of Brooke's baptism, she couldn't help but smile. Her daughter had worn a beautiful lace-trimmed white dress, a gift handmade by Dean's mother. It was still packed away in tissue, preserved for Brooke's daughter if she was fortunate enough to have one.
One close-up photo showed her with fine, light hair. Candace remembered how wonderful it felt to brush her cheek against Brooke's head. Touching a baby's soft skin was too pleasurable for words, and everyone who saw their tiny daughter marveled at her flawless complexion.
Another shot showed Brooke, Dean, and his parents, the adults beaming at the camera. She’d taken the picture, and it was slightly crooked, making her smile at her amateur effort. What she wouldn't give to relive that magical day when their baby was received into the church! Unlike many infants, Brooke hadn't cried when the pastor took her in his arms and sprinkled water on her head. Doctors might disagree and say it was only a gas bubble, but Candace was sure her baby had smiled.
It seemed impossible that a baby so perfect could get even more beautiful, but Brooke had. Her fine blonde fuzz grew into springy curls; and the camera loved her, catching her in happy and thoughtful moments.
Finally Candace closed the scrapbook and hugged it close. She could only relive those wonderful days in her memory, but did that mean that her adored daughter was lost to her? Surely Brooke would mature into a kind and loving young woman. They would share the kind of special relationship that Candace had with her mother.
Someday this quarrelsome stranger would laugh with her over their struggles. Meanwhile, Candace could only pray that she was being the mother Brooke needed during her turbulent teen years.
Cesar looked particularly handsome Sunday evening as they prepared to leave for the class at church. He was wearing a navy sweater over a white dress shirt with his best dress slacks. Elena was so happy that he was joining her that she didn't even mind that she would have a shirt to launder, starch, and iron after just a few hours of wear.
They were among the last to arrive at Holy Trinity, and Elena was pleased to see the big turnout. Her good friends Belinda and Troy Boyd were there, and they thought the class was important enough to get a babysitter for their daughter Hayley. There were even a few newcomers, and Pastor Flynn took time at the beginning of the class to be sure everyone knew each other.
The pastor was always cordial to Cesar on those rare family occasions like Izzy's baptism when he went to church. He must have instinctively known that Cesar wasn't a man to be pressured, and he had prayed with her that her husband would come to know the Lord when she brought her concerns to him.
Pastor Flynn was a rather nondescript man, neither young nor old, with thinning hair and a rather long face. He seemed very ordinary until he started speaking. His voice had a compelling quality that made it a pleasure to listen to his sermons, and he was at his best when teaching.
He opened with a prayer and then invited the class to read along from the Bibles he’d provided as he set the tone for their study.
“Reading from Matthew, chapter ten, verses thirty-five to thirty-nine,” he said in a melodious voice. “‘For I have come to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law—a man's enemies will be the members of his own household.
“‘Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.’”
Elena glanced at Cesar sitting beside her, but his stoic expression didn't give away his thoughts.
“This is a startling passage, is it not?” the pastor asked. “It sounds harsh. It attacks the sanctity of the family. We have every indication that Jesus loved and honored His mother and embraced His brothers as followers. Why, then, would He make such a controversial statement?”
“He was letting His disciples know the high cost of following Him,” one of the class members said.
Pastor Flynn beamed, showing everyone that he’d gotten the response he’d hoped for. He spent the rest of the class exploring what it meant to follow Jesus in modern days. Elena was fascinated by his insights, but Cesar sat as immobile as a statue, not once contributing to the discussion. She would rather he ask questions and bring his objections into the open.
They took a short break to enjoy the cookies and coffee that had been provided, and Elena tried to break through her husband's moody silence.
“You’re welcome to ask questions, you know. The pastor likes debate,” she assured him.
“I don't have any questions,” he said.
When the class was over, Cesar was the first to put on his coat and head for the exit with Elena reluctantly in tow. She liked to visit a little after a class and find out what others thought of the lesson.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, although it was obvious he hadn't been impressed by the first session of the class.
“No.”
“Cesar,” she said when they were alone outside the building, “I know you too well. Why are you upset? I thought it was a good class. Pastor Flynn is a very good teacher.”
“I just didn't care for the message.”
“The Bible reading?”
“I see the results of
broken families every day in my work. I just think it's wrong to put so slight a value on family relationships.”
“That wasn't the message the pastor was trying to put across,” she argued, hurrying to follow him to the car.
“It was the message I heard.”
Elena was dismayed. Had the class put an even deeper gulf between Cesar and the church? Had bringing him with her done more harm than good? She silently prayed that he would hear and believe the Word, but she was afraid it would take a miracle to convince her stubborn husband.
Chapter Sixteen
CANDACE SMILED TO HERSELF AS SHE REPORTED FOR work Monday morning. Brooke was a different person for the rest of Sunday after her mother agreed to think about having boys at her party. In fact, she was so sweet and cooperative that Candace suspected it was another ploy to get her way. At least it made for a pleasant family evening.
Her serene mood was quickly shattered when she came into the Birthing Unit. Riley was there ahead of her looking more harassed than Candace had ever seen her.
“We have a full house, but that's not our main problem,” Riley hurriedly explained. “One of the women checked in with a fever. She's too far along to send home, and I’m trying to arrange a room where she can be isolated from our other mothers and babies after she delivers.”
“Flu symptoms?” Candace asked with concern.
“We aren't sure yet, but everyone who goes near her will have to wear full protective gear including gowns and masks. Her husband made a bit of a fuss, saying that we’re scaring her, but he calmed down when I threatened to have him escorted out of the labor room.”
Of all the units in the hospital, none was more vulnerable than theirs, something brought home by this second scare. They’d been fortunate that the first woman tested negative for the flu virus strain they were worried about, but would this case be a false alarm too?
Candace could scarcely imagine the consequences if the epidemic started among the newborns and their mothers. There was so much about the new strain of flu that no one seemed to understand. It was becoming the stuff of nightmares. She was glad that the task force was meeting this evening. It would be a public meeting, so anyone who wanted more information could attend. Maybe they would get some answers then. She trusted Maxine to keep them informed as new information came through the county health office.
