by Lyn Cote
“Oh, it’s so good to see you again!” Ida and Edith chorused. “We’ve missed you!” They both slipped dainty hankies from skirt pockets and dabbed at brimming eyes.
“I didn’t know if it was too soon….” Terri Sue looked at Lynda’s face, her eyes lowered apologetically.
“You’ve always been welcome,” Lynda murmured. “I told you that.”
Terri Sue gave a little self-conscious shrug and sat down. “I just couldn’t stay away any longer.” Her words trembled with three years of longing.
Hannah blinked back tears. Her parents would be thrilled with news of this reunion.
Amber stared at Terri Sue. “Do we got a new grandpa, too?”
“No, dear, no grandpa.”
“Did he die like our other grandpa?”
Terri Sue took a deep breath. “No, dear, Billy’s daddy left a long time ago.”
“You mean like our daddy?” Amber asked.
With a broken expression, Terri nodded.
Hannah ached for the woman.
Hunter leaned against Terri Sue’s blue-jeaned leg, soaking it, and asked, “What’s your dog’s name? We got a cat. Her name is Misty.”
Terri Sue touched his soft blond curls. “His name is Taco.”
“My name’s Hunter!” The little boy bounced with each word. “Can I pet him?”
“Yes, Hunter, just be gentle.” Her forehead creased as Terri Sue gazed at the children as if they might be snatched from her at any moment.
Hannah yearned to say some reassuring word to Terri Sue. But I’m just a bystander.
Hunter reached toward the dog. Taco yipped once. Hunter pulled his hand back.
Terri Sue stroked the little dog’s sleek, but roly-poly tan body. “Taco, this is Hunter. Hunter won’t hurt you.” She took the boy’s small hand and stroked Taco’s back with it.
“Oooo,” Hunter breathed. “He’s soft, nice. Hi, Taco.”
Terri Sue smiled.
“Are you really our grandma?” Jenna asked, skepticism in her voice.
“Yes,” Martha answered, “she’s your father’s mother.”
“Amber got to see our daddy, but I didn’t.” Jenna pouted. “When do I get to see him?”
Hannah closed her eyes and said a quick prayer for Billy and Lynda’s reconciliation. I hope for the best, Lord, and trust in your love.
“Can my daddy come to my school?” Amber asked. “We’re drawing special pictures for Open House. Can he come, Mommy? Can he?”
Looking a bit shaky, Lynda inhaled deeply. “Why don’t you invite Grandma Terri Sue? Daddy might not be able to come.”
“Can you come, Grandma Terri Sue? Please!” Amber begged.
“I’ll try,” Terri Sue replied in her soft, sultry voice.
“You got a bag on your arm,” Jenna told her.
Immediately all three children focused with rapt interest on the colorful paper shopping bag.
Terri Sue put Taco on the grass, then reached into the bag. She paused and looked at Lynda. “I took the liberty of…”
Lynda nodded.
With the bag open at her feet, Terri Sue smiled and drew out three boxed toys—a fashion doll, a creative dough set with bright yellow, green and hot pink dough along with an intriguing collection of shaping forms and a blue toy pickup truck.
Amber shrieked, “It’s a Country Western Tammy doll!”
With wide eyes, Jenna asked, “Is the Play-Clay set for me?”
“A truck! Like Uncle Guthrie’s!” Hunter danced up and down with excitement.
The children fell onto the toys and ripped open the packages. Then they each took turns hugging Terri Sue and displaying the toys to Martha, the two great-aunts, Lynda and Hannah.
Hannah wished she had a camera to record all the joy in the faces around her.
Then Hunter took his truck into the pool where it plowed through water to the tune of the little boy’s expert engine noises. Amber and Jenna retired to the small shaded picnic table to play with the doll and play-clay.
“That was so sweet of you,” Ida and Edith crooned.
Terri Sue blinked her richly mascaraed eyes, then dug into her purse for a lavender tissue to blot tears.
“I’m glad you came, Terri Sue. Really.” Lynda offered Terri Sue her hand. “I’ve missed you.”
Terri Sue reached out and clung to Lynda’s hand. “Oh, honey, I’ve missed you, too.”
“You didn’t have to stay away,” Martha murmured, sounding close to tears.
Again, Hannah’s mind drifted to Lila’s monologue. She had mentioned a funeral and Guthrie’s father. Billy had done something terrible that had yet to be revealed to Hannah. Had Garner been told everything?
“Billy says you two are going to counseling with the new pastor,” Terri Sue said softly and sat back, releasing Lynda.
“Yes. Terri Sue, this is the pastor’s daughter, Hannah.” Martha made the introduction, apologizing for its tardiness, then stared into the distance as though peering deep into the past.
Terri Sue looked surprised. “Oh, you’re the one who did that cooking show.”
“Yes.” Hannah spoke, glad of the opening this comment gave her. She could say what she’d come for and also lighten everyone’s mood. “And I’ll be doing it again. The TV station called and wants me to do one a week for the next three months.”
“That’s so exciting!” Ida and Edith exclaimed. “And to think that we were there to help you the first time!”
“It is exciting!” Hannah agreed. “And I hope you ladies will come for the show just like you did the last time. You added so much…liveliness to my demo.”
The twin octogenarian sisters looked like they would explode with joy. “Well, if you really want us,” Ida said with a coy expression.
“I do. Mark your calendar for this coming Wednesday. A crew is going to come to tape a month’s worth of spots at the church starting about nine.”
“We’ll look forward to it!”
Lord, I don’t know if this is going to work out.
Please be there on Wednesday, too!
Déjà vu described the situation on Wednesday. The same director-producer and cameraman had arrived and set up in the institutional-looking kitchen in the church basement. Almost the same group of retired farmers and wives filled the short rows of folding chairs. Ida and Edith sat in the front row on the aisle. Hannah waved to them. They waved back.
“All right, Ms. Kirkland. Let’s get started.” The producer motioned to her.
Hannah smiled into the camera. “Good day. I’m Hannah Kirkland. I write the ‘Real Food, Healthy Food,’ column and cookbooks. I like to take America’s favorite foods and give them a healthy new twist—without losing a bit of their wonderful taste! Today, I’m going to give you a new quick bread recipe, a variation on an all-time American favorite, banana bread. Mine is Apple-Banana-Oatmeal Bread. A yummy quick bread to go with Johnson’s Dairy cream cheese or butter!”
Hannah held up a bunch of bananas. “Now the best bananas for bread are, of course, the riper ones with brown spots like these. Also fall apples are just coming into the farmers’ markets and orchard stores.” She gestured toward a peck of red apples on the counter to her far right. “McIntosh or Jonathans are the best for cooking in my opinion. We don’t grow bananas here, but no one can beat our apples!”
The church audience applauded.
Hannah set the bananas down and lifted a round blue box of oatmeal. “And we know that oatmeal along with a healthy diet can lower cholesterol. Besides I love oatmeal! It makes a yummy addition to any quick bread.”
She looked expectantly at the audience. Now to get her comic relief on camera. “Ida and Hannah, you were so helpful last time. Would you come up and give me a hand today?”
Ida and Edith both smiled sweetly as they apologetically shook their heads.
What! Shock froze Hannah’s vocal cords. She struggled to keep a calm mask on her face. “Okay…then,” she stammered. Maybe if she continued with
the recipe, they’d come up without an invitation. “This recipe, which makes two standard-sized loaves, begins with two cups of mashed ripe bananas—”
“Cut!” The producer approached her. In a low voice, he said, “The two old ladies have got to be in this or the dairy company is going to be disappointed. We don’t want to disappoint the sponsor, do we?”
“I’m with you all the way,” Hannah whispered back passionately. “My dilemma is how to get them up here without spoiling their spontaneity. They’ve got to come up on their own!”
“I get it. But do they get it? Maybe they don’t like to make banana bread.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Just follow me on this, all right? I’ll get them up here if I have to pull them bodily into camera range.”
The producer gave her a searching look, then nodded and walked out of camera range.
Okay, Lord, I know you’re here watching over me. How can I get them up here? I need some inspiration—quick!
In her place behind the kitchen counter, she plastered a broad smile on her miserable face.
“Take it from the top,” the producer barked.
Hannah went through the introduction to the recipe again. When she came to the part where she said, “This recipe begins with two cups of mashed ripe bananas,” the clear glass bowl that contained the premeasured mashed bananas slipped from her hands and clattered to the counter. The gooey brown bananas shot up and splattered onto Hannah’s apron. She zipped off the skins of three more ripe bananas from the bunch she’d displayed and dropped them into another clear glass bowl. When she started to mash the bananas with a potato masher, sharp pain arced through her wrist. “Oh! Ouch!” Dropping the potato masher, she clutched her wrist. Days of pounding nails must have strained it.
“Oh, dear!” Ida exclaimed.
“Oh, dear!” Edith repeated.
The two ladies hurried forward.
Ida took Hannah’s hand and examined her wrist. “Edith, I’ll take care of her wrist while you mash those bananas! I don’t care what Martha says. It’s obvious this girl needs us!”
Edith nodded. While she attacked the bananas, mashing them into pulp, Ida reached into the freezer and brought out a blue cloth freezer pack, which she wrapped around Hannah’s wrist. “Edith and I bought these for the church to keep on hand. A person never knows when some mishap will come and a ready ice pack can be a godsend.”
“You’re right,” Hannah said, her heart doing handstands. “I feel better already.” She did feel better, now that the aunts were on camera with her. What was a strained wrist, after all?
“The bananas are mashed,” Edith announced.
“Excellent.” Hannah grinned. Wonderful! Thank you, Lord! I would never have appealed to their sympathy. “Well, since I’m incapacitated, I’ll have to depend on you two to do the mixing. Now to the bananas, add two apples, chopped.” Hannah pointed to the prepared and measured ingredients in glass custard cups and bowls. “In a separate small bowl, add four tablespoons water to the fruit and put it aside.”
Ida hovered over Hannah like a doting mother hen while Edith followed Hannah’s directions.
Hannah finished, “Finally stir in one-half cup golden raisins.”
“Do they have to be golden, Hannah?” Ida asked.
Hannah nearly chuckled. Yes, Ida, that’s what the dairy wants to hear! “No, I suppose you could use the regular dark raisins. I just think the golden raisins look prettier in slices of the bread.”
“Oh, yes,” Edith agreed. “Our dear mother always said food should be as appetizing to the eye as to the tongue.”
Hannah grinned as wide as her mouth permitted.
“Hannah, I don’t want to put myself forward, but could we substitute nuts?” Edith asked. “I do love nutmeats in my fruit breads.”
Fantastic comment, Edith. Hannah beamed at her. You, go, girl! “Oh, yes, walnuts would be an excellent addition. Well, ladies, shall we take the finished loaf out of the oven?”
“Yes!” Ida cooed.
“If you please, Edith?” Hannah motioned toward the country-blue quilted pot holders, which Edith used to open the oven and lift out the warm loaf.
“Oh, the fragrance of the apples!” Ida exclaimed.
“It’s like being in an apple orchard!” Edith agreed.
“Cut! That’s a wrap,” the producer called with obvious relief.
Thank you, Lord! We made it!
“Hello, Hannah.”
Her pulse gave a little skip as Hannah recognized Guthrie’s voice and his evident unhappiness over the phone. They hadn’t spoken for many days. He’d been busy haying, and her parents were still deciding whether to go with the factory shell or not. “What is it, Guthrie?”
“How’s your arm?”
“Fine. The pain went away right after the tapings.”
“Good. Are you free tonight?”
Why would Guthrie Thomas call and ask her that? The man acted like he was inviting her to a dentist appointment. “I’m just reading a new novel.”
“Oh, good.” He sounded relieved. “I need you to come to Amber’s Open House with me.”
“What?”
He sucked in a lot of air before answering. “Lynda says I can’t come unless you come with me.”
“Why?”
“She says if you aren’t there, I might do or say something about…Billy that could embarrass her and the kids.”
Hannah pondered this. Evidently, Lynda was open to giving her husband a second chance, but Guthrie still hadn’t budged. For this reason and many others, she didn’t want to be dragged in as Guthrie’s chaperone. “Why don’t you just ask my parents to go with you?”
“Lynda says our family is already gossip for miles around. If we have to take a pastor with us to the school to keep peace, she’ll die of embarrassment.”
“But I’m the pastor’s daughter.” And I don’t want to be a buffer between you and your ex-brother-in-law.
“She says that’s okay. Everybody knows you helped me with the church roof and had the great-aunts on your cooking show.”
Hannah tried to follow this convoluted reasoning, but couldn’t. She wasn’t surprised. In cases like these, reason rarely controlled action. She let out a deeply sincere sigh. “All right. If Lynda wants me there, come and get me.”
“I’ll leave now.” Click.
Trying to remember what her parents had worn to school functions, Hannah shrugged out of her jeans and red-and-white Badgers T-shirt and slipped into one of her new suits—the peach silk with the creamy white silk blouse. She was just slipping on tan dress shoes when Guthrie tapped on her door.
“Guthrie, are you sure you want me—”
“Let’s go.”
She shook her head. Single-minded. Stubborn.
Within minutes, Guthrie drove into the crowded school parking lot and maneuvered into a spot at the rear. They’d barely exchanged two words. Looking like a man nursing a broken tooth, he came around to help her out of the cab.
Guthrie wore a pair of casual tan twill slacks and a navy knit sport shirt, which stretched over his wide chest and around bulging biceps. An attractive but glum escort for the evening. Lighten up, Guthrie!
Twilight glowed around them. Locusts and crickets harmonized in the fall evening. Suddenly she wanted to pull Guthrie away from the school and wander over to the deserted playground. How long had it been since she’d sat in a swing? She imagined sitting on the wooden board while Guthrie pushed her forward. She’d fly skyward, then backward to Guthrie’s strong arms. They would leave behind the family tensions and just enjoy being together.
“We really don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” she offered.
“Nothing is going to make me miss this.”
Not encouraged, but unwilling to make a fuss, she took his arm. She quickened her pace as he led her through the school door, then to Amber’s kindergarten room. The buzz of voices hummed in the hallways, but zoomed in volume when they walked into the classroom.
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Admiring the gaily colored room, Hannah glanced around looking for familiar faces. Several people looked more than a little surprised at seeing them. Was it because they’d come together?
Oh, dear, have I caught the interest of the county gossips? I’ll have to make sure everyone knows I’m here only as a family friend!
“Hannah! Hannah!” Amber hailed her, the little girl’s high-pitched voice cut through all other voices. “Uncle Guthrie, over here! My picture is on this wall!”
Hannah waved, then found it necessary to cling to Guthrie’s arm as he nudged his way through the crowded schoolroom.
Evidently, this was a supportive community of extended families. People of all ages, from great-grandmothers leaning on canes to babes in arms had come to admire the kindergarten members of their families.
Amber was surrounded by every one of her relatives, including her new family, Grandma Terri Sue and Billy. Amber ran the last few steps and grabbed Guthrie’s hand and tugged them forward—right up to Billy. “Look, Uncle Guthrie! My daddy came to Open House!”
Feeling like the end of a crack-the-whip game, Hannah swung in front of Guthrie, who gripped her hand almost painfully. She stumbled against Guthrie’s broad chest, then steadied herself. “Hello, Billy. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Hannah Kirkland.”
Sensing Guthrie fuming behind her like a dormant volcano threatening to erupt, Hannah smiled.
“She’s the preacher’s daughter, and she writes cookbooks!” Amber announced to the universe.
While shaking Billy’s hand, Hannah held on to her smile. This was Amber’s night, and Hannah didn’t want anything to spoil it. A little child’s very first school open house should not be marred by family conflict. She gave Guthrie’s hand a warning squeeze.
“Is this your picture, Amber?” Hannah indicated a painted length of newsprint hanging in a row with other pictures.
“Yes, we were supposed to draw a picture of our family. See? Here’s the two great-aunties and my grandma Martha.” Amber pointed out three stick figures, two with gray hair and wearing dresses and one with yellow hair and apparently wearing slacks. “Over here is Jenna and Hunter and me—we’re playing on our swing set.” Three small stick figures, one with braids, swung on adjoining swings.
