Granny had woken up lucid from her nap that afternoon. She’d been calm, known the present situation, and hadn’t asked for Ralph once. It was like old times, when Beth and Granny would bake together, and her father would go to open the store, his laptop in a bag over his shoulder so that he could type in the quiet moments. Linda would find a way to make herself scarce, and for a couple of hours Beth would feel the comfort of her granny’s undivided attention.
This evening, Granny thought it would be a great idea to make some of her famous cinnamon buns, and Beth couldn’t turn that down. Granny’s cinnamon buns were sticky, gooey and as soft as the inside of a white roll.
“So how are you feeling?” Granny asked.
“Fine.”
“I mean, with the baby coming and all the emotions you must be having.” Granny pointed to the edge of the dough. “Roll there a little more. Nice and even.”
Beth did as she was told. Granny knew cinnamon buns.
“Well?” Granny prodded.
“I’m trying not to feel too much right now. I’m overwhelmed,” she admitted. “It’s a lot to deal with.”
“Hmm.” Granny reached over and patted down another edge. “Long strokes with the rolling pin. Long. Longer...”
Beth did as she was told. If she could ever master Granny’s recipe, it would be a personal accomplishment. Plus, imagine being able to bake them every time she felt the craving.
“I overstepped with Luke last night,” she admitted. “It was completely unintentional, but Danny was mad—like, really mad.”
“What did you do?” Granny asked.
“I told Luke a story about Danny when I knew him.”
“Ah.” Granny chuckled. “That’s the thing with parenting. You try to reinvent your past for the benefit of your child, but it never really works.”
Would Beth do the same thing for her daughter? Maybe she’d downplay her own stupidity of having a drunken one-night stand, try to cast herself in a better light.
“Danny loves you, still,” Granny went on.
In that estimation, Granny might still be out of touch.
“Danny’s just trying to figure out how to handle me being back in town,” Beth replied with a low laugh. “I’ve rocked his boat.”
But she’d rocked more than Danny. Her pregnancy had left her father off balance, too.
“Granny, how is Dad doing?” Beth asked.
Granny had always had a finger on the pulse of the home, at least before her memory started playing tricks on her. Still, Granny had been here—she’d seen more than Beth had the last few years.
“It’s hard for me to tell, dear. I get so confused sometimes...” Granny said after a moment. “I miss out on things now.”
“It’s okay, Granny,” Beth said. She didn’t want to put undue pressure on her grandmother. That wasn’t fair to her. Beth rubbed a hand over the side of her belly where she felt a foot pressing. Maybe it was better to ask about the past. “Where did we all go wrong?”
“What you wanted and what your father wanted were two different things,” Granny said. “You wanted your mother back. That wasn’t possible. Your dad wanted someone to grow old with. He wanted a companion, a wife. Anyway, Linda was a very organized person, and your father is not. He’s a brilliant writer, but quite a scatterbrain. He was the feeling one, the sensitive one. She was the tough one who kept that shop going.”
“Like, the figurative shop, or the actual store?” Beth asked.
“The corner store,” Granny replied with a nod.
“But she hardly stepped foot in it!” Beth said.
“Didn’t have to. She gave armchair advice. And it worked.”
“So if Linda had stayed—”
“She gave up on that store when your father gave up on her.”
“Gave up on her, how?” Beth asked.
“He was frustrated with his book—the genius that used to flow so easily seemed dammed up. And he was frustrated with the store because it wasn’t making any money. Linda wanted to sell it, and your father saw that as a betrayal. That store was our family’s history, but Linda could see that it didn’t have a viable future. The more time your father spent in that store, trying to make money by staying open longer, plugging away on the novel that wasn’t good enough, the worse it was for their marriage. He turned to the store, and she felt betrayed, too...” Granny sighed. “Marriage isn’t easy.”
Beth sighed, too, moving that information around in her mind. Funny that so much of what they valued had gone out the door with her stepmother.
“Now for the butter,” Granny said, turning back to her mental recipe. “You can never have too much.” Granny passed the butter dish. “Don’t be shy with it. Dig your fingers in. We’ll use up that whole stick.”
Beth shot her grandmother a smile. Carbs had been Granny’s love language for as long as Beth could remember.
“You seem sad,” Beth said quietly.
“I am.” Granny nodded. “My son’s heart is broken.”
Beth smoothed the butter over the soft dough, mulling over her grandmother’s revelations. As a teenager, she hadn’t thought too much about what it would take for her father and Linda to be happy. She’d assumed that they’d carry on in their selfish love regardless of what it did to her. But they’d broken down over time, and ironically enough, it wasn’t because of her, either. It had been over the store that ended up bankrupt regardless.
“What comes after the butter?” Beth asked.
“Next we grill the meat,” Granny replied, and Beth shot her a quizzical look.
“What?”
“One pound of ground pork,” Granny said. “We will brown it in a pan.”
“Granny, we’re making cinnamon rolls.”
Granny stopped short and frowned. She nodded several times. “Yes, of course. Of course. I know that.” She rubbed a hand behind her neck. “Beth, dear, have you seen your grandfather?”
Tears welled in Beth’s eyes. Her grandmother’s lucidity had been so precious, but never long enough. She’d missed her real Granny so much—the wise woman with insights Beth needed even more now with a baby on the way and her father’s personal difficulties. She needed someone on her side.
“Why don’t you come tell me how to finish these cinnamon buns?” Beth asked. “I just worked in the butter. I know you add something to the sugar and cinnamon, but I don’t know what.”
“He’s had a cold lately,” Granny said. “If he’s gone out, I do hope he wore a scarf. That man can be so stubborn.”
“Granny, he’s—” Beth swallowed the lump in her throat. “He’s gone for milk.”
Granny frowned and shook her head, then she cast Beth a disapproving look. But she turned back to the counter and peered over Beth’s shoulder.
“A sprinkle of salt,” Granny said. “It brings out all the flavors.”
Beth followed the last of her grandmother’s directions, but Granny’s heart didn’t seem in it anymore. When the cinnamon rolls were in the oven, Beth leaned over and gave Granny a hug.
“These are going to be delicious, Granny,” Beth said. “I’ve been looking forward to your cinnamon buns for so long.”
“I think we should bring some to Danny,” Granny said.
“No, maybe not a great idea,” Beth said. “We’re both rather annoyed with each other right now.”
“All the more reason to make up, my dear.” Granny gave her a pointed look. “You might be upset, but so is he, and your relationship will never work if you don’t care for his feelings as tenderly as you care for your own.”
Granny was back in the past, and Beth heaved a sigh.
“Maybe in the morning, Granny.” Maybe in the morning, Granny would have forgotten.
“I’ll go to his house myself,” Granny sai
d. “But Danny will have cinnamon buns tonight. It would be appropriate if you were a part of that. Buck up. He’s going to be your husband.”
Granny’s severe look gave Beth pause. She wasn’t going to be distracted so easily, it appeared, and since Granny’s mind was in the past, she’d march straight to the house where Danny used to live. It might be easier to just deliver some cinnamon buns.
“Let me call him,” Beth said. She didn’t have his number, but she did have her phone handy, so she searched the online white pages and came up with a phone number for Daniel Brockwood in North Fork, Alberta.
“Yes, you call him.” Granny gave Beth a small smile. “I’m going to my easy chair until the timer goes off.”
Beth dialed the number, and it rang three times before he picked up.
“Hello?” Danny sounded tired.
“Hi, Danny, it’s me...Beth.” She hadn’t spoken to him on the phone since they were together, and it felt strange to be doing so now.
“Beth? Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” She moved farther away from the doorway that led to the living room. “I’m sorry to disturb you at home. The thing is, Granny and I have been making cinnamon buns, and she’s gotten it into her head that you and I need to make up.”
“There’s no need—”
“Convincing me isn’t the problem,” Beth interrupted. “She’s determined to bring you cinnamon buns, and she’s guilting me into being a part of it.”
“Ah.” Was that a smile she heard in his voice? “Your grandmother does make amazing cinnamon buns. And if they came with a heartfelt apology from you...”
“Danny—” She closed her eyes and grimaced. “I do feel bad for having overstepped with your son—”
“I was joking.” His tone softened. “Bring them over. I won’t turn down Granny’s baking.”
“You sure it’s okay?” Beth asked cautiously. “She might insist on us...making up.”
“I’m sure I can handle it. Besides, she might forget before you get here. Just keep me posted. If she changes her mind, I expect you bring me a peace offering of a fresh cinnamon bun at the store in the morning. You can’t get a man’s hopes up and then leave him hanging.”
“I will. I’m sorry about all of this, Danny.”
“Not a problem. Luke’s already in bed. I’m sure we can get through this.” His voice was low and warm. “See you in a bit, Beth.”
She hung up the phone. It was the small town that made avoiding each other so difficult. Well, the small town and her grandmother’s dementia. But Danny was right—she didn’t belong in Luke’s life. She’d turned down her chance at that a long time ago, and Luke was better off without her.
Except Granny seemed to have other plans when she was locked in the past, and Beth was caught between what was best for a boy and what was best for an old woman. She didn’t even have the luxury of considering what was best for herself.
* * *
DAN HUNG UP the phone and crossed his arms over his chest. The house was quiet—Luke was asleep, and the TV was on the weather channel with the sound muted. It was almost nine. Dan wasn’t sure if Beth and Granny would come that evening or not. If Granny forgot again, they’d all be off the hook. He could only imagine that Beth would breathe a sigh of relief if that happened. It was sad that Granny kept slipping into the past, and a little disconcerting. Dan didn’t welcome the chance to revisit old days, because he didn’t like who he’d been then. The last five years had changed him in massive, jolting, positive ways. It was like being struck by lightning and coming out stronger than before—a superhero story based on emotional maturity.
Back in the day, he’d been below Beth, and he’d known that. Everyone knew it. Her father was a living literary legend, and the town took great pride in him. The whole country took pride in him. CBC Radio had come to North Fork several times to interview Rick Thomas about his books. Beth’s dad had hoped that she would follow in his footsteps, but she’d never been interested in writing like he was. She was more practical, and falling in love with the likes of Dan hadn’t been part of her father’s plans for her.
More than that, Dan had never seen a functional marriage up close. He was raised by a single father he’d fought with for most of his formative years, and then he’d moved out on his own once he turned seventeen. He’d seen friends fall in love and get married, but that was watching a relationship from the outside. He’d had no idea how a marriage actually worked, and that made for a big inequality in his relationship with Beth. She’d been the one from the “good” family with most of the answers. When a sheltered twenty-five-year-old woman seemed like an emotional guru compared to him, that was probably a bad sign. Now that he’d had five years’ space, he could see that he could never have continued that way long-term.
Dan hadn’t been ready for marriage—he could see that now. He hadn’t liked to talk about his feelings or open up. He preferred to be the tough guy, and it was brawn over brain most times. He used to freeze her out when they argued—a stupid, childish move on his part. And she used to boss him around as if he knew nothing about life because he didn’t have the educated influences she’d been raised with. It would have been a mess.
He used to think he was lucky that Lana didn’t want him in the picture, and he was also convinced that Lana’s rejection absolved him of responsibility toward his son. How much had he missed over those three years? He’d missed Luke’s birth and his babyhood. He’d never see his son’s first steps or his first tooth. He’d never be able to see a baby in the mall and think, I remember when Luke was that age. At the age of twenty-six, he’d had no idea how much he’d regret the choice to run away.
But now, Dan was a different man—stronger, sterner and with a lot more perspective. He liked himself better now, and he no longer felt like he was a rung below Beth Thomas, either. Fatherhood had forced him to face his fears, and as a result, he was twice the man he used to be. He had Luke to thank for that. Given the chance, he would never go back to those days when he and Beth were in love and the world seemed to spin for them alone. Luke had changed his life from shades of gray to startling color.
Dan ambled down the hallway to Luke’s bedroom. He opened the door, and the bluish light from his night-light melted out into the hallway. Luke was asleep in a rather uncomfortable-looking position, his head on top of a stuffed toy that would no doubt leave him with a crick in his neck, but Dan had learned the hard way that trying to move him only ruined the kid’s rest. He was better off letting Luke sort it out in his sleep.
He sure loved this boy. He could look at that sleeping face and feel a rush of tenderness he’d never known was possible. Dan backed out of the bedroom just as he heard a knock at the front door.
Had they actually come? He wasn’t sure if he’d been hoping for that or dreading it. He liked seeing Beth a little too much, and he knew himself—he needed some space to sort that out. Still, his heart beat a little faster at the prospect.
When he opened the door, he wasn’t faced with Beth as he expected, but with Granny, Beth standing behind her on the step. They were both in winter jackets, and Granny held a Tupperware container in front of her.
“Hi,” Dan said, his gaze slipping past Granny to Beth. Beth’s smile looked almost pained, and he chuckled. Granny was going to be a handful tonight, he could already tell. “Come on in.”
“Daniel, we have come with cinnamon rolls,” Granny said as she stepped inside. “We thought you could use a treat.”
Beth came inside behind her grandmother, and Dan shut the door.
“Thanks,” he said. “I love your baking, Granny. This is a treat.”
“Beth made these,” Granny replied pointedly. “Didn’t you, Beth?”
Beth was obviously being nudged into something here, and Dan cast her an amused smile. He couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit let down t
hat the cinnamon buns weren’t made by Granny’s own hands, because he was convinced that Granny injected magic into her baking. There was no other way to explain it.
“Granny’s teaching me the family recipe,” Beth said with a small smile, then she mouthed, Sorry.
“I’ll just go put some frosting on these,” Granny said. She bent to take off her boots with surprising agility, then beelined toward Dan’s kitchen.
Dan raised an eyebrow. “How did they turn out?”
“They’re amazing, thank you.” Beth shot him an annoyed look. “And you can stop enjoying this so much. Tomorrow, she’ll set up shop in the store again.”
“I’m sorry.” That was sincere. “I know it’s been hard with your grandmother.”
Beth nodded, then shrugged. “She was with it for a while today. It was nice—just the two of us in the kitchen, baking. It was like old times when I didn’t worry about her wandering off in the snow.”
“I’m glad you got that,” he said. This slow decline was heartbreaking for all of them.
“And I am sorry about Luke,” she went on. “You’re right—I’m not a parent yet, and I don’t always understand those lines. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“Thanks.” Dan shrugged. “But you and I are clear that you didn’t need to do this...right?”
“Of course!” Beth rolled her eyes. “Granny is the one who’s confused. In her mind, we’re still engaged and she’s saving the wedding. She gave me a rather stern lecture about being more sensitive to your feelings on the way over here.”
“Really?” He liked that. “How so?”
“She said that you might put up a tough act, but underneath it all you’re a kitten, and that if I don’t take care of your feelings, who will?” Beth looked down. “Which is silly, of course, because who takes care of you isn’t exactly my business.”
“True.” He cleared his throat. The thing was, he liked the idea of Beth caring about his feelings for a change.
“And she pointed out that other women would be standing in line for you, and if I didn’t treat you right, then someone else would try to scoop you up.” She arched one eyebrow and shot him a teasing smile. “Which might very well be true. I wouldn’t know.”
A Boy's Christmas Wish Page 8
