The Healing Touch (Stories from hope haven)

by Hanson

  His grumbling stopped as they drove into town, and she suspected that he liked the lessons more than he would admit.

  At least they didn't have time for Cam to browse when they got to the Chef's Corner. Anabelle knew their kitchen had enough equipment to start a catering service, although much of it was old. Still, a kettle was a kettle, at least in her opinion.

  “I’m just pleased as punch to see you all,” Sherry said when her class members had lined up at their stations.

  She was wearing a white shirt with blue butterflies and a cobalt blue skirt with three layers of ruffles at the bottom. The outfit made her look cute but no younger than she was.

  Anabelle tied the apron that she’d washed and ironed, although she seemed to be the only one who’d bothered with an iron.

  “I know some of you are disappointed that we’re concentrating on salads today, but the terrible truth is that a plate of veggies can be higher in calories than a hamburger.”

  “I can't believe that,” the young wife Hope said, snapping her gum.

  “It's all in the dressing,” Sherry said. “What we’re going to make today is everyone's favorite Caesar salad.”

  “Is that the one with little black things in it?” Hope asked.

  “Not everyone likes anchovies,” the big man's wife said.

  “Now I have to tell you right off that Caesar salad isn't a good choice for those who are trying to limit salt intake, but an anchovy is full of heart-healthy fish oils. For those of you who are concerned about sodium, I’ll also show you how to make a lovely salad using my own recipe for a balsamic vinaigrette. Maybe you would like to try both.”

  “Will that be our whole dinner?” Cam asked, looking a bit appalled.

  “You’ll be surprised at how filling a good salad can be,” Sherry assured him. “Now shall we get started? And don't fret yourselves about remembering the ingredients. I have printed copies for all of you to take home.”

  Much to her surprise, Anabelle enjoyed preparing the salad, although Cam seemed content to let her do most of the work. It was the first time she’d ever mashed an anchovy fillet, although she had experimented using paste that came in a tube. She’d never grated her own Parmesan cheese, but perhaps she would in the future now that she knew what a difference it made.

  “Always dry your romaine or any other leafy greens thoroughly,” their teacher said. “Today we’ll just pat it dry with paper toweling, but I do stock a handy little gizmo that spin dries.”

  “I think we can do without one of those,” Cam said, patting the romaine with something less than enthusiasm.

  Anabelle counted the salad lesson as a success. Sherry had baked yeast rolls to go with it, and it seemed an adequate supper to her.

  Cam admitted liking it but made himself some scrambled eggs when they got home.

  “My blood pressure was fine today,” he said as he smeared mayo across the eggs, his favorite way of embellishing them.

  Anabelle shook her head but smiled at the man she loved. What they needed was a lifestyle change, not just cooking lessons. She would start working on that tomorrow.

  “Why does Brooke get two birthdays?” Howie asked as he watched Candace light the thirteen candles on the chocolate cake his grandmother had made earlier in the day.

  “I’m not getting two birthdays,” his sister quickly protested. “This is my birthday, but when you get older, you don't have your party on a school night.”

  “Why not?” The glow of candles reflected in his eyes.

  “Because my friends are too old for baby parties.”

  “I don't have baby parties,” Howie protested.

  “Let's sing ‘Happy Birthday’ so Brooke can blow out her candles,” Candace said. “We don't want wax all over the frosting.”

  When the song and candle ritual were over, Brooke wanted to cut the cake herself.

  “Why can't Mommy do it?” Howie asked. “Brooke will give me a tiny piece.”

  “It's my cake,” Brooke said. “I want to cut it.”

  “Well, I want a big piece.”

  “Don't be such a piggy-pig,” his sister taunted him.

  “I’m not a piggy-pig!”

  “Now children,” Janet said in her soothing voice, “let's enjoy our cake. Who would like ice cream with it?”

  “Me!” Howie said. “I want two scoops.”

  “None for me, thank you.” Brooke put a large piece of cake on a plate for Howie and passed it to her grandmother. “I have to watch my weight. I don't want my new jeans to be tight.”

  Candace had decreed that all the girls wear jeans in case they decided to use any of the Y's athletic facilities. In fact, she didn't know what would entertain the mixed group. The girls, especially Brooke, would be disappointed if they did nothing but play basketball.

  What games would interest kids that age? Candace had gone to the public library and checked out several books, but Brooke shot down all the suggestions she found in them.

  At least her daughter approved of her selection of paper plates and napkins. She’d begged her not to buy anything with balloons or fuzzy animals, and Candace had settled on a restrained design with geometric shapes. They didn't say birthday to her, but Brooke was satisfied.

  Brooke put a thin slice of cake on her own plate and took a dainty bite. When had her daughter gotten too old to enjoy her own birthday cake?

  “Can I have another piece?” Howie asked, his mouth sticky from his first serving.

  “Not right now,” Candace said. “I don't want you to get a tummy ache.”

  “I won’t. Just a tiny piece.”

  “I don't want you eating my whole cake,” Brooke said. She put her fork down with half of her piece uneaten.

  “You’re not eating it. I bet Heath would let me have another piece.”

  It wasn't like her son to be so belligerent, not that he didn't squabble with his sister from time to time. This was something new, using Heath as a means of getting his way.

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Brooke said. “It's my birthday cake, and he wouldn't want you to eat it all.”

  “Brooke! Howie! It doesn't matter what Heath would or wouldn't let you do. I said you’ve had enough, Howie, because I don't want you to get sick. That's it.”

  “Can I be excused?” Brooke asked. “I want to call Tiffany.”

  “Don't talk too long,” Candace said. “I seem to recall that you have homework.”

  “Mother, it is my birthday. Maybe Howie is right. Heath is much more reasonable than you are.”

  Janet gave Candace a sympathetic look, but she made it a point never to interfere with her daughter's decisions about the children. For a few moments, she wished her mother would tell her how to handle a teenaged Brooke.

  Was Heath more reasonable? Or would he agree to anything the children asked because he wanted them to like him?

  After the kids had settled down for the night, Janet went to her room to read. Candace was tired, but she decided to hem a pair of new pants that were too long for Howie. As she stitched, she idly wondered how tall he would be as a man. Would he be lean and lanky like his father, or would his love of sweets make him chunky?

  How would it affect him, not having his father to help him navigate growing up?

  She couldn't help but think about Heath. They had fallen in love, and she believed he wanted to be part of her life for good. That meant being a father figure to her children, but she didn't know whether she was ready for that. What if his ideas about raising children were totally different from hers? They already looked to him to reverse decisions she had made.

  The worst thing that could happen would be to make him part of their family and then lose him. How could Brooke possibly cope with losing both a father and a stepfather? If Heath did want to take their relationship to the next step, as she suspected he did, would it be in her children's best interests? Death or separation were frightening possibilities, and either would devastate Brooke. It might be even worse for Howie to have a
stepfather for a short while and then lose him. He only had vague memories of his father, reinforced by the memory books, photographs, and Candace's stories about him; but he was already getting attached to Heath. Her son was so vulnerable. Both her children were. She just didn't know whether to risk her children's happiness by taking a chance on Heath.

  She put aside the sewing box and returned the needle to her pincushion. Howie didn't need his new pants tomorrow, and she didn't feel like finishing them tonight.

  Before she could go upstairs to bed, the landline phone in the kitchen rang. She was tempted to let the answering machine get it, but she still had disasters on her mind after Monday's preparedness drill.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi.” It was Heath. It was a sign of how close they’d become that she immediately recognized his voice. She smiled, glad to hear from him despite her prevailing fears.

  “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  “Nope,” she said, “I was just heading to bed.”

  “So early? You must have had a hard day.”

  “Yes, it's been a busy week so far.”

  “Well, get lots of rest so you don't get sick. I can't imagine chaperoning the girls and the boys at Brooke's party by myself.”

  “You won't have to.” She suddenly realized that she didn't especially want him there. As much as she disliked the idea of boys at the party, she wanted Brooke to have a good time but play by her rules. She already knew that Heath was more lenient than she was. If two adults disagreed about what the children could and couldn't do, it would be a bad thing.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

  “Heath, you really don't have to be there. It's never much fun to be a chaperone.”

  “Oh, I don't know. It's a chance for me to feel like a kid again. Play a little pin the tail on the donkey and musical chairs.”

  “I’m afraid Brooke and her friends have outgrown those games. We’ll have some music, cake, that sort of thing.”

  “Sounds good. By the way, you can help me out. I’m not sure what to get Brooke.”

  “You don't need to get her a gift.”

  “I wouldn't think of showing up at the party empty-handed. One idea I have is a small TV for her room.”

  “That's much too big for a child's birthday gift.”

  “Do you think so? I wanted something special. After all, a girl only has a thirteenth birthday once.”

  “Heath, I really don't want her to have a television in her room.”

  “All right, no problem.” She could hear the confusion in his voice. “Well, uh…can you give me any other ideas?”

  “Sure,” Candace said, trying to infuse some positivity into her tone. “You might consider a gift certificate for a small amount. Brooke loves clothes, but she's still happy with the merchandise at a superstore.”

  Her positivity may have been too late. Heath's tone was ever so slightly dejected. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  After they hung up, Candace couldn't get Heath out of her mind. When the two of them were together, she loved his sense of humor and kindness. Not to mention his good looks. He was a good man, and she should be thankful that he cared for her.

  She felt different when the four of them were together. Howie was eager to bond with him, and Brooke looked up to him as a father figure, but what if something happened to take him away from them? It would devastate them if Heath were taken from them as Dean had been.

  Could she possibly take that risk? Would it mean putting her own happiness ahead of protecting her children?

  She prayed for the wisdom to know what was right for her children.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  WHEN SHE GOT HOME FROM RUNNING ERRANDS Saturday, Candace was nearly bowled over by Brooke's excitement.

  Her grandmother had taken her to a beauty salon to have her hair done that morning. She looked older and more sophisticated with two blonde curls framing her face and the rest pulled back and anchored with a blue enameled hair clip. Even though there were hours to go before the party started, she’d changed into her new jeans and a gauzy white tunic with blue ribbons at the neckline and wrists.

  “Why can't I go to the party?” Howie asked, appealing to his mother as soon as she stepped into the house.

  “You’re too young!” Brooke snapped, sounding as though she’d already told him that many times.

  “Am not!”

  “Howie,” Candace said sympathetically, “you probably wouldn't have any fun. There won't be anyone there your age.”

  “I could play with Heath.”

  “Not this time,” Candace said. “This is Brooke's party. When it's your birthday, you can have your own party.”

  “That's not for ages,” he whined.

  “We’ll have a party just for the two of us,” Janet said, coming into the hallway and taking his hand. “I thought maybe we could make popcorn and watch one of your movies. Or we could play board games. You’re getting pretty good at checkers.”

  Candace smiled thanks at her mother and complimented Brooke on how pretty she looked.

  “Wouldn't you like to change out of your tunic until it's time to go?”

  She could envision a tragedy if she got a spot on it before the party.

  “It's not as if I’ll be able to eat a bite of dinner,” Brooke said.

  After that token protest, she went to her room to put on an old T-shirt. Sometimes mother still knew best.

  Candace was almost as eager as Brooke when it was time to leave for the Y, only she was anxious to have it over. Maybe the children would all behave like angels, and everyone would have a wonderful time. At least she tried to convince herself that all would go well in spite of her misgivings.

  Heath got to the party room before them and was already setting places at the long table.

  “Here's the birthday girl and her beautiful mother!” he called out, sounding as excited as Brooke.

  They didn't have time to talk. Guests started coming, even though the party didn't officially start for another fifteen minutes. So many came at once that it felt like a stampede, but Candace noticed that the girls were the early arrivals. Would the boys even show up? She didn't want to think about how hurt Brooke would be if none came.

  She worried for nothing. Some were ten or fifteen minutes late, but by her count, every boy who had been invited showed up.

  Except for a little rowdiness when two boys tried to get the same seat, the early part of the evening went better than Candace had expected. Maybe the girls weren't happy when the boys all clustered together at one end of the table, but everyone enjoyed the pizza and the four huge decorated cookies that Brooke had chosen instead of a regular cake.

  Things started going downhill when several girls wanted to dance to the music piped in through the Y's sound system. A few of them danced with each other, but the boys certainly didn't take the hint and join them. In fact, several playful scuffles broke out, and Heath led them out to the gym for a game of basketball. The girls drifted out too, although they didn't look enthusiastic.

  Candace followed, leaving the cleanup until later. No doubt the kids would be thirsty after the game, and maybe they would finish off the last of the birthday cookies.

  Somehow Heath had gotten them to chose up teams, although a couple of the girls, Brooke included, lingered on the sidelines. He attempted to referee, but the game was more a free-for-all than organized basketball.

  Suddenly Tiffany ran from the gym, and Candace followed after her. When she caught up, Brooke's friend had been sick in the rest room.

  She was standing beside a sink softly crying, her face drained of color. A moment later Brooke rushed into the room, looking almost as devastated as Tiffany.

  “Get my cell phone from my purse and call Tiffany's mother,” Candace calmly directed her daughter.

  “I never get sick. Why did I have to get sick tonight?” Tiffany wailed.

  Candace did her best to comfort her, patting her face with
moist paper towels and assuring her that there was no shame in getting sick. Even as she tended to the child, her thoughts went back to the preparedness drill and the task force. The symptoms that concerned everyone didn't include stomach problems, but she couldn't help but remember that children under eighteen were coming down with flu all over the county.

  Tiffany's skin wasn't feverish to the touch, but the party was definitely over for her. Brooke stayed by her side until her mother came to take her home, gathering her things from the party room and walking to the car with them. Candace was proud of the way her daughter had cared for her friend instead of staying with the partygoers in the gym.

  When the two of them went back to the game in progress, they both stood in shocked silence. Basketball had deteriorated into a rough game of dodge ball, and girls were shrieking in protest. One girl was hit hard between the shoulders and ran toward Candace for sanctuary.

  Heath was in the midst of the confusion and finally managed to secure the ball, calling a halt to the activities. When he tried to get the basketball going again, it was no-go. A wrestling match broke out between two boys, and Candace found it was all the two of them could do to separate the two antagonists and keep the others from joining in. They ushered the sweaty, red-faced boys back to the party room, and the others followed.

  Once everyone had settled down, Candace tried to rescue the party for Brooke's sake. She’d prepared several party games with prizes, but no one competed with any enthusiasm. She couldn't have been more relieved when parents started coming to pick up their children.

  Heath helped clean up, but he was unusually quiet. He walked the two of them to Candace's car and opened the door for Brooke.

  “I’m sorry that didn't go better,” he said to Candace after closing the passenger-side door.