Trouble's Brewing

by Linda Evans Shepherd; Eva Marie Everson

  I stood and walked to her side. I leaned down and opened my arms to hug her. “No, Donna, I think more of you. You’ve survived a difficult thing. Now it’s time to finally talk about it with someone who loves you as much as I do.”

  Slowly, Donna lifted her arms and embraced me. I whispered into her ear, “Donna, I love you like a daughter. Don’t you dare leave me.”

  Donna buried her head into my shoulder. “Mom, I love you too.”

  Later, after we finished our cake, I gave our teacups a warm-up, and we withdrew to the living room to recline in the La-Z-Boys.

  That’s when Donna began to pour out her heart. It seems she and young Wade had been in love. They’d never intended to have sex, but gradually their relationship became more physical. With her dad at work in the afternoons and no mom in the house, she and Wade had spent their time together in her bedroom after school. Then, when she suspected she was pregnant, her world fell apart.

  “Telling Daddy was the hardest thing. He didn’t yell at me. He did something worse; he cried. Then he made a phone call to Dr. Billings. You remember the day Wade and I came in? It was for a pregnancy test, to prove what I already knew.

  “After the ‘positive’ report confirmed it, Daddy was determined there would be no more scandal in the family. He drove me down Spreading a Rumor to see the abortionist. But I don’t think he had any idea how this decision would stifle my entire life with guilt and regret.”

  “Is that why you decided never to marry?”

  Donna took a sip of her tea. “Yeah. I didn’t deserve happiness, and I didn’t want it, not after what I’d done.”

  “But Donna, you do deserve happiness and love. God will forgive—”

  I heard the low rumble of Fred’s truck as it pulled into the driveway. I looked at my watch. How had it gotten so late? “Oh, dear.”

  Donna stood. “I’d better go. I lost track of the time too, and I’m supposed to be at work in a few minutes.”

  I put my cup and saucer down and rose from my chair. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She nodded and leaned over to scratch a sleepy Chucky behind his ear as he stood and stretched. “Yeah.” She hugged me. “Thanks, Vonnie.”

  “Before you go, I’d like to invite you to have dinner with Fred and me this week. When’s your day off?”

  “Thursday. Let’s make it Thursday night.”

  “Okay, promise me you’ll be safe out there, especially with loaded guns.”

  She turned at the door with a little smile. “I will, Mom. I promise.”

  Donna stopped to chat with Fred on the front porch, and I quickly dialed Wade. “I’ll call you later, but I wanted you to know that Donna’s going to be okay.”

  He breathed his response, “Oh, thank God.”

  “Gotta run.” I hung up and looked out the window again, in time to see Donna drive off. I hadn’t prepared anything for dinner. Hmm. I did have a pound of hamburger thawed. I’d ask Fred to fire up our backyard grill. Sure, it wasn’t picnic weather, but we grilled all year long.

  Fred walked in, shuffling through our mail and wiping his feet on the blue braided rug in front of the door. He was dressed in his oily blue overalls with his name embroidered in red across his breast pocket. I could see that they would need to be thrown in the wash as soon as possible. “Hi, Fred. How was your day?”

  He gave me a nod like I was an acquaintance on the street. “What did Donna want?” he asked me.

  “You know how I’ve prayed for that girl, prayed she would come to me and tell me what we’ve known all these years about the baby. Well, it’s happened.”

  Fred turned and looked at me. “You’re kidding me. She finally told you?”

  I pretended to mop sweat off my forehead. “Whew. Yeah, it was pretty heavy. I’ll tell you about it over dinner tonight. Would you mind firing up the grill for me?”

  Fred took two steps toward me. “You’re giving in?”

  “What?”

  “You’re going to let me burn those letters from Joe?”

  I took a deep breath. “I was thinking more about barbequing some hamburgers.”

  “But the column in the paper said …”

  “Fred, I know all about that silly column, and I know you shouldn’t believe everything you read.”

  “Vonnie, why can’t you give those letters up?”

  I took a step toward Fred. “I’ve been asking myself the same question, and I think I’ve come to an understanding and a solution.” Fred moved closer. “What’s that?”

  “Fred, you have to understand that I love you. Joe is gone; he’s been out of my life for decades. And I’ll admit, when you and I were first married, I thought a lot about the man I’d lost. But then I had you.” I took another step. “I grew to love you as much as a woman can love a man.” I felt the tip of my nose burn. That always happens when I get emotional. “But here’s the problem. Those letters are all that’s left of a man’s life. I can’t destroy them, but neither is it right for me to keep them, especially when they hurt you.

  “So this morning I bundled them up, took them to the post office, and sent them to my son. They’re his heritage. Those letters will help him know how loved and wanted he was.”

  Fred reached for me and drew me into his arms. “My Vonnie, you’ve come back to me.”

  I hugged his neck. “Fred, I never left.”

  Before Fred could tug me into our bedroom, there was a knock at the door. “Yoo-hoo, Vonnie!”

  Oh my goodness, it sounded like Lisa Leann. I went to the door as Fred tagged along behind me. I opened it a crack, and there she was, holding a lovely platter of cinnamon rolls. Once again, she looked as if she had stepped off a fashion runway, dressed in a short mink jacket and black velvet pants. Her hair stayed in place in spite of the stiff breeze.

  “A peace offering,” she said. “I’m sorry about the other day and what I did. My Mandy’s been talking to me about how I need to respect other people’s privacy. She says I messed up. So will you forgive me?”

  “Of course.”

  “But, also, I wanted to bring these over to thank you for helping me with Mandy at the ER. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

  A humbled Lisa Leann was a sight to see. “Thank you, this is so thoughtful.”

  She smiled. “Before I go, well, I know I shouldn’t say anything. But I just can’t resist.”

  Oh dear. “Resist what?”

  “Well, what I want to know and what I’m hoping you’ll share with me is what is going on between Clay and Donna.”

  I was so surprised by the question, I could only shake my head. “Clay and Donna?”

  “Yes. I was at the shop late last night, and there the two of them were, locked in a passionate embrace. I think they were necking right on the street.”

  Fred stepped forward. “I would appreciate it, Mrs. Lambert, if you wouldn’t talk about our daughter like that.”

  “Your daughter?”

  “Donna is our daughter of the heart,” I said. “But Fred’s right, Lisa. You are speaking out of turn. And your words hurt people. If you want to know what’s going on between Clay and Donna, you should ask them, instead of spreading it all over town.”

  “Well! I was not spreading it, I was trying to confirm it.”

  “Same difference,” Fred said. “Thanks for the sweet rolls and have a good night.”

  Fred shut the door right in her face, and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Why, Fred, you’re so forceful. Did I ever tell you how much I like forceful men?”

  Fred took the tray of sweet rolls and put it on the coffee table, then took my hand, pulling me toward the bedroom. “Is that so?” he asked. I nodded as he shut the door behind us.

  Bang! What a crash. We opened the bedroom door and looked out. There was Chucky, standing in the middle of the carpet, gobbling sweet rolls as fast as he could.

  35

  The Price of a Memory

  The morning after he emptied the ol
d boxes in his closet, Clay made several trips up and down the stairwell leading to his room, lugging dilapidated cardboard and large bags of what represented the first thirty-some years of his life. With one load deposited at the large green Dumpster behind the building, he headed back for another until everything was gone except what little bit he wanted to hold on to.

  That and the old photographs, which now lay in two piles in front of his La-Z-Boy. One he mentally labeled “My Life in General” and the other “My Life and Donna’s.”

  When he’d finished his task, he took his morning walk, arching his back a little more than he had when he’d first started. Several of the locals had begun to accustom themselves to seeing him out on the streets and took to saying things like “You’re looking good there, Clay.”

  After his breakfast at the café, he sprinted down Main Street, just in time for Alpine Card Shop to open its doors. There was a new girl working the cash register, but Clay didn’t have time for introductions right then. He went directly to a glass shelf lined with sample photo albums and scanned them with his eyes until The Price of a Memory he found the one perfect for his idea. He carefully lifted it from the shelf and took it to the front, where the new girl, Britney, stood smiling behind the counter.

  “Would you like to purchase this?” she asked.

  “Yes, I would.”

  She took the album from his hands, checked the stock number on its back, and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Clay leaned against the counter as Britney went to the storeroom for his purchase. He heard a creaking from overhead, then remembered that Goldie would be at work already. Britney reappeared, carrying a large but thin blue box with her. “This is a beautiful photo album,” she said. “The material on the front looks like lapis. That’s why it’s called ‘Lapis.’”

  Clay merely nodded. He didn’t care what it was called. All he knew was that it was pretty and that Donna would like it.

  “The artisans use traditional bookbinding techniques. That’s why it’s a little more expensive than most.”

  “Artisans?” Clay asked.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  He snickered as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “I don’t think I ever thought of it that way.”

  “Thought of what, what way?”

  “Those machines that put all these books together.”

  Britney laid the box on the counter and reached for the credit card Clay now held out to her. “Oh no. These are handmade.”

  Clay smiled at her. “I see.”

  Britney finished the transaction and said, “That’ll be $102.65.”

  Clay swallowed hard. “Say that again?”

  36

  Lizzie Serving Second

  Chances I had pretty much decided the world was coming to an end. In a matter of a little more than a few months, Jan had died, leaving a painful gap in my heart; my son had moved home and actually had the audacity to go out on a date; and word on the street was that Evangeline Benson and Bob Burnett were engaged. (I’d nearly died when Lisa Leann phoned me to report what she knew, then added, “Well, she won’t have to change her monogram, will she?”)

  If all that weren’t enough, I feared my friend Goldie was falling for a man to whom she was not married. Did anyone take their marriage vows seriously anymore?

  If ever I needed Jan Moore, it was now.

  I hadn’t realized how special and important she was in my life until she was gone. In spite of not being a formal member of the Potluck Club, she was one who, when I asked for prayer, I knew would pray. Not just a one-sentence offering, either. Jan spent time alone in the presence of God for those she called her friends.

  If she were here right now, I could call her and ask her to pray with me … or ask her what she would do in a similar situation.

  She isn’t, but God is, a familiar voice spoke to my heart.

  “Oh, Father,” I prayed from the middle of my bed, where I’d been curled up like a baby, drinking up the silence of my home. “Tell me what to do.”

  I waited for a few moments, listening as hard as I could to what God might say. When a half hour passed and still I had nothing but the ache inside my heart, I rose from the bed and walked down the staircase, which was wrapped in the holiday garland I’d put up the weekend before, to the family room Michelle had decorated with Christmastime china dolls.

  Michelle and Adam, a new beau she had yet to introduce to us, were going out after work, so she wasn’t home. Samuel had a late afternoon meeting at the bank, and Tim hadn’t come home yet. The house—quiet and nearly abandoned—was all mine.

  I sat in my favorite chair and flipped on the television with the remote. A classic movie was playing on AMC; I curled my feet up under me and settled in to see if I’d ever seen it before.

  I had: Girl on a Mission, which ironically starred Harmony Harris. In the movie, Harmony plays Zina Nolen, a secretary who is paid by her boss’s wife to flirt with her husband while the wife is away on a Christmas vacation in the Caribbean. The wife wants to know if “when the cat’s away the mouse will play.” When Zina appears to be taking her “mission” too seriously, the boss’s mother calls her daughter-in-law and says, “My dear, if you have half a brain in your head, you’ll wipe off that suntan oil and get home immediately.”

  My eyes brightened and my mouth formed an O.

  Why didn’t I think of that?

  I popped up from the chair, praising God all the way to the front window of the living room. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Who says you don’t use the media to reach your children?”

  I leaned around the Christmas tree and peered out the window and down the street. No sight of Tim’s car.

  Perfect.

  Minutes later, I was once again curled on my bed—though this time upright. I dialed the number of my daughter-in-law.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  “Samantha?” I said brightly.

  “Mom?”

  “My dear, if you have half a brain in your head, you’ll wipe off that suntan oil and get home immediately.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I shook my head in amusement. “That’s a line from an old movie.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have a question for you … ready?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Do you want Tim back?”

  “I do … but not the way things have been. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

  I crossed my legs. “Samantha, nothing will change if you remain thousands of miles apart. I want you to pack up the kids and get yourself out here. They’re out of school when?”

  “Friday.”

  “I suggest you make a sacrifice and take them out early. It won’t kill them, and in the long run it’ll be for the best.”

  Samantha paused before chuckling. “I can’t believe I’m hearing you of all people say that.”

  “Well?”

  Again, she paused. “Okay. I’ll do it. Should I call him and let him know?”

  “No. I’ll take it from here.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Call me on my cell phone and leave a message as to your flight, okay? Don’t call the house.” I felt deliciously wicked. “And whatever it costs for the tickets, I’ll reimburse you.”

  “Wow. Okay, then,” she said with another laugh. “Uh … Mom?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is there any particular reason you’ve felt the sudden need to get us up there?”

  It was my turn to pause. A gold-beaded reindeer standing on my dresser caught my attention, and I said, “It’s Christmas. Christmas is for families, and families should be together.”

  I hung up, then looked up at the ceiling and gave God an imaginary high five just as I heard the front door open and close.

  “Mom? Dad?” Tim called up.

  “Right here,” I called back, then met him at the foot of the stairs.

  He eyed me suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, bru
shing past him. I could smell the smothered pork chops I’d left simmering on the stove since I’d arrived home from work. They were no doubt perfect for eating.

  Tim was on my heels. “I know that face. What’s going on?”

  I removed the frying pan from the stove top and set it on a trivet. “Nothing. I was just watching a cute little movie on AMC.”

  From where we stood he could easily see into the family room. He looked from there to the stairs I’d just come down. “But you were upstairs.”

  I fluttered my hands about and said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tim. Do you have to know everything about your mother? Now, go get ready for dinner. It’s just the two of us.” I looked down at my watch. “Unless your father makes it home fairly soon.”

  My son complied. I watched him head downstairs then blew a pent-up breath out of my lungs. “Lizzie,” I said aloud, “that was close.”

  A quick check of my cell phone inbox the following morning revealed that Samantha would be flying in at around 2:30 in the afternoon. The school wouldn’t like it, but I would have to sneak out early so I could pick her up.

  I called Samuel shortly before he headed out for lunch.

  “I have to go to the airport after work,” I began my confession.

  “The airport? Someone from the Board of Education flying in?”

  “Um, no.” I sat in the chair at my desk.

  “Well, what then?”

  I closed my eyes to the scolding I was sure to get when he heard what I’d done. “I invited Samantha and the kids to join us for the remainder of the holidays.” Samuel was so quiet he frightened me. “Samuel?”

  “Lizzie, didn’t we agree not to interfere?”

  I crossed my legs and opened my eyes. “No. No, we did not. You may have decided that you wouldn’t get involved, but I didn’t.”

  More silence. Then, “Does Tim know?”

  “No.”

  I heard him sigh, though it sounded more like a growl.

  “All right, then. Dinner should be interesting tonight.”

  I brightened. “I was thinking we could all go to Apple’s. Sam and his family and Sis and hers too.”