“You have been busy. Thanks to you, I’ll have a nice assortment of cookies to serve at the party and to take to the rest home.” Every year, Elaine volunteered to take cookies for the residents after the holiday program. She’d never missed except for the year she’d had shoulder surgery.
Putting the celery and onions away, Elaine asked, “Where’s Sara? I got some of those little oranges she likes. Cuties.”
“She’s not back from skating yet.”
Elaine checked the clock. “Oh dear, I thought they’d be back by now. She and Corey must be having a good time.” She looked around. “Where’s Dad?”
“I don’t know.” Kenzie put the milk in the fridge, then a hand on her hip as if thinking. “Let’s see, it’s not the day before Christmas, so he can’t be doing his Christmas shopping.”
“Oh, I remember. He went to get some replacement bulbs—some of the Christmas lights over the garage are out.” She folded the reusable grocery sacks and stored them in the pantry. Reusing bags and helping the planet was something Kenzie had talked her into a few years ago. Unfortunately, she sometimes forgot and left the bags in the pantry.
The house was unusually quiet. As Elaine washed the carrots, it seemed like the perfect time to broach a delicate subject. Heaven knew she rarely had Kenzie all to herself. “I guess there hasn’t been a good time for you to talk to your father yet.” Kenzie groaned loudly, but Elaine pressed on. “I hoped the two of you could work things out while you’re here. Actually, what would have been better was for the two of you to talk long ago.”
“Right. Blame it all on me,” Kenzie said with some bitterness. She scrubbed the potatoes at the sink. “Forget about what Dad said.”
Chagrined, Elaine pulled out a cutting board and the grater, and began grating the carrots. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that, well, it’s best to clear the air immediately instead of letting it go on for years. And after that day, you stopped coming here. And talking about things like this is best done in person—not over the phone.” She picked up another carrot. “We did come to visit you in Chicago, but you had so many activities lined up—going out to dinner or a show or an exhibit—that there was never any time to sit and talk.”
“So now you’re upset because I made plans for you and Dad? That I tried to entertain you?”
Elaine sighed. Her daughter’s defenses were up—deflecting the conversation. It would do no good to take offense, especially since Kenzie was doing such a good job of that herself. And she had a pretty good idea Kenzie had purposely set a frenetic pace during their visits to Chicago to avoid any chance of an intimate chat.
“Not at all,” Elaine replied. “I only wish you and your father had time to sit down and work things out. And you’ve been here for a week and a half, and the two of you still haven’t talked.” She washed the celery as Kenzie began dicing the potatoes.
“I plan on talking with him, but I’ve had a lot to do. And Dad never asked to talk to me about what happened.” This was said in an aggrieved tone.
“Oh, he approached you, but only in roundabout ways. You know your father—when it comes to sensitive topics, he likes to beat around the bush. Besides, most men aren’t too big on talking about feelings.”
“Of course not. Step on them, trample them, crush them, but let’s not talk about feelings.” Kenzie waved her knife around wildly—and a bit theatrically, Elaine thought.
“That about sums it up,” Elaine replied good-naturedly as she slid sliced celery into a large glass measuring cup. “I know he hurt you and said some terrible things, but sometime you’ve got to put it behind you and forgive.”
Her words apparently riled Kenzie, whose cheeks showed two spots of pink. “Why am I the one who’s supposed to forgive? I’m the one that got trampled! Boy, Dad’s got it pretty easy. He can say all the horrible things he wants, and I’m supposed to take it and turn the other cheek. Seems like he should take a little responsibility—”
“I can’t disagree with you there. But you can’t change other people—only yourself, and you’re the one I’m thinking of.” Elaine stopped slicing so she could look her daughter in the eye. “You can’t be at peace while holding a grudge. No one can be truly happy until they can let go of old wounds. Forgiving is something we all need to do for our own sake.”
“You make it sound easy, and it’s not.”
Oh, how the young could judge! You’d think Kenzie would understand that maybe Elaine had learned a little wisdom over the sixty-four years she’d spent on earth. “I know it’s not easy. You forget, dear, that although you’ve had problems with your father now and then, I’m the one who’s lived with him day in and day out for forty-one years.” Had that been the right thing to say? Elaine didn’t especially like the expression of pity and horror that splashed across Kenzie’s face. She hadn’t meant to disparage Allen. Sure, he was a rascal of the highest order at times, but he was also loving, kind, and thoughtful, and she loved him dearly.
Putting the diced potatoes in the sink, Elaine turned on the tap and covered them with water. Then she put her arm through Kenzie’s and drew her into the family room, where a cheery fire was burning.
They sat next to each other on the tan couch. “I know you don’t understand how your father could have said such things, but you do know he’s always been outspoken. Speaking first and thinking second—that’s his motto. If you could try to accept him for who he is and throw in a bit of forgiveness once in a while, it would help.”
“It would also help if Dad thought about other people once in a while and realized his words can hurt.”
“You’re right of course. He has things he needs to work on, just like everybody else. I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s easier to forgive if we realize everybody—ourselves included—has their own faults.” It was hard to know what to say. Elaine prayed Heavenly Father would give her the words to help her daughter. She went on, “You’ve gone through such a rough time these past couple of years. Your father and I have ached for you. We’ve always been here for you although I know it hasn’t seemed like that to you.” Moving closer, Elaine clasped her daughter’s hands. “Your father regrets what he said. He is so sorry.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but I haven’t seen any signs of Dad being sorry. If he was, he’d say so.”
“I think it’s difficult for a lot of men to admit when they’re wrong. But your father did feel terrible about it. He told me once that he wished he could wrap you up and bring you home, and that if he could, he’d take your pain and bear it himself so you didn’t have to hurt so much.”
Kenzie sat so still, her eyes downcast, that Elaine began to hope she had reached her.
Then Kenzie’s head came up, and she asked sharply, “You didn’t tell him about Larry?”
“No.” Elaine spoke quietly. She’d kept her promise not to tell Allen about Larry’s affairs, but it had been hard. She wasn’t used to keeping secrets from her husband. When Kenzie had called late one night, sobbing so hard she couldn’t catch her breath, Elaine had been frantic with worry. She knew Kenzie desperately needed to talk, but she said she wouldn’t unless her mother promised not to repeat anything she said to her father. Unhappily, Elaine agreed, knowing Kenzie needed her. It was shocking to find out Larry was having an affair and doubly so to learn he’d had another one years before. How on earth had Kenzie gotten past it and remained a loving mother and confident career woman? Elaine doubted she could have done it.
Kenzie went on. “I was going to tell Dad, but then he started blaming me for the divorce.”
“I don’t think your father meant that—he misspoke. Sometimes he means one thing and says something else.” Elaine reached over and stroked Kenzie’s hair. “All your father and I want is for you to be happy. He loves you very much—and so do I.”
They hugged each other for a long time. When they pulled back, Elaine saw a few tears shining on Kenzie’s cheeks. “Let’s hope a little Christmas mag
ic will help mend things,” she said to her daughter. “Just remember, each day you have a choice to make, and that choice can either make for a brighter tomorrow or not.”
“Once again, you make it sound so easy.”
Elaine laughed. “I wish it was!”
The side door opened, and Allen came in carrying a bulging sack.
“Looks like you got more than a few Christmas lights,” Elaine exclaimed, going into the kitchen to see. Kenzie followed.
Elaine pulled a large box out of a sack. “What’s this?” She turned it over. “Oh, what a pretty doll!”
“It’s for Sara,” Allen said gruffly.
“Dad, really—a doll?” Kenzie said. “She’s eight years old.”
A confused expression appeared on her father’s face. “I thought girls liked dolls.” Then he glanced around. “Put it back in the sack. I don’t want Sara to see it.”
“She’s not back from skating yet,” Elaine said.
As one, the three of them looked at the clock.
“She really should have been back by now,” Kenzie said. “I’ll go see if her coat’s here. She might have slipped in.”
When Kenzie came back and shook her head, Elaine glanced out the window. “What time was she supposed to be back?”
“I didn’t give her a time. I figured they’d come back when they were tired.” Kenzie turned to her father. “Dad, the pond’s safe for ice skating, isn’t it?”
“It’s a little late to be asking that.”
Kenzie stood stock still.
“Allen! Will you think and stop blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind?” Elaine went to Kenzie, who looked numb, and put a hand on her arm. “Don’t pay him any mind.”
“Sorry, that came out badly.” Allen was contrite. “I’m sure the ice is plenty thick—it’s been real cold lately.”
Without a word, Kenzie went to the utility room and yanked her coat off the hook.
Elaine followed. “Sara told me Corey and Jared went skating at the pond the other day. Jared would have made sure the ice was safe.”
“That’s right.” Kenzie took a breath. “I remember that now.” But her face remained pale. “I’m going to walk over, though, and make sure they’re okay.”
“They might have gone to Jared’s house. Why don’t you call him before you go.”
A pause, then Kenzie hurried to the kitchen. Allen looked up Jared’s number on his phone, dialed, then handed the phone to Kenzie. It rang once, twice, then Jared picked up. She punched the speakerphone.
“Hi, Jared. This is Kenzie. Are Sara and Corey there?”
“No, I thought they were at your house.”
“They haven’t come back from skating yet, and it’s getting late.” Anxiety was in Kenzie’s voice.
“I’m sure they’re fine. Probably just lost track of time.”
“Sara told me you’d gone skating with Corey. Was the pond frozen hard?”
“Yeah. I drilled down, and it was plenty thick.”
A pause of relief. Then Kenzie said, “I think I’ll head on over there anyway—to make sure.”
“Wait a minute, and I’ll go with you. I’ll be right over.”
* * *
3 The recipe for Gingersnap Cookies can be found at the end of the book.
Chapter Twenty-Three
At the intersection of Sheridan and Walnut, Jared went through a light that had been yellow a while. It turned red before he made it through. The alarm in Kenzie’s voice had made him uneasy.
Why weren’t Corey and Sara back?
Had they simply lost track of time? A distinct possibility. Or had something happened?
Jared swung into the driveway, but before he even turned off the engine, the front door opened, and Kenzie and Allen came out. They must have been watching from the window.
Kenzie’s face looked pale and strained as she told him, “Dad insisted on coming.”
“Thought you could use another pair of eyes,” Allen said somberly. He held several flashlights, and when Jared glanced at them, said, “Just in case.”
Not the most reassuring thought that it might be dark before they found them. And yet, a glance at the pink-stained western horizon showed the sun was lowering fast. Darkness wasn’t that far away. Initially, he’d told himself Corey and Sara must have been having so much fun they hadn’t noticed the sun beginning to set, but now he wasn’t sure of that. They went around the house and crossed the backyard. As they started down the trail, Allen handed him a flashlight, which Jared stowed in a coat pocket. Leading the way, he glanced back to see Kenzie searching the woods anxiously.
“Don’t worry,” Jared said. “They probably lost track of the time.”
She nodded, but her brown eyes were clouded with worry. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it. But it’s not like Sara to be gone so long.”
Nor was it like his son. What could Corey be thinking to stay out so late? Jared fought to control his anger. Yet in the next instant, fear rose. Was Corey hurt? Or Sara? Caught in a tight cage of fear, he fought to hold off the wave of sick terror that threatened to swamp him.
As they hurried toward the pond, Jared said, “They’re probably still skating.” Kenzie didn’t answer but gave a small nod, her gaze searching the woods.
They rounded the bend and took the right fork. Their sudden appearance surprised a flock of crows and set them to cawing as they rose in a dark cloud. When they reached the pond, it was a shot to his chest when Jared saw the tarp, skates, and Corey’s backpack. But no Corey and no Sara. Kenzie knelt, touching the skates. When she glanced up at Jared, her eyes were large with fear and asking the same question he wanted to know—where could they be?
Allen started around the pond. “Corey!” he shouted. “Sara!” Kenzie and Jared joined him. They circled the pond and came back to the folded tarp.
“They must have walked farther into the woods,” Jared concluded.
In silence, they backtracked to the main trail, calling loudly as they went. A feeling of panic left him lightheaded when Jared saw how quickly the darkness was starting to gather. Already he had to strain to see in the gloom. He and Allen pulled out their flashlights and shone the beams on the trail. Fresh footprints in yesterday’s snow.
“They look like the right size,” Kenzie murmured.
“You were right,” Allen told Jared. “They decided to go exploring.”
They hurried on, calling, “Corey! Sara!”
Suddenly Jared stopped. The prints ended. His light shone on the path ahead, white, smooth, and unbroken. Allen swung his light left then right. There was a quick intake of breath from Kenzie when they finally saw two pairs of footprints leading off the main trail.
The going was more difficult now because of the uneven surface under the snow. Kenzie tripped once and would have fallen if Jared hadn’t grabbed her arm. They hurried along, calling as they went. There was a thrumming in Jared’s mind as he swung his flashlight around, hoping with all his heart to see Corey and Sara.
Why on earth had they left the trail and gone out in the middle of nowhere?
Chapter Twenty-Four
“It was a good idea to bring that,” Sara said as Corey pulled a small tarp out of his backpack and spread it on the snow. They smoothed it out and sat to put on their ice skates.
Corey had to give credit where it was due. “My dad always brings one. I also brought some hot chocolate.”
“And I brought some cookies. My grandma is making like a million of them.” Sara set the zippered baggie of cookies on the tarp. When Corey looked at them longingly, she told him, “Go ahead and have one. They’re Apple Cider Cookies.4”
“Apple cider?” Corey looked unsure, but after a bite his expression changed to rapture. He took another before resealing the bag.
Sara went on to more important matters. “Are you sure the ice is thick enough?” The uneasiness in the pit of her stomach went away when Corey explained how his father drilled a hole to make sure it was safe.
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Sara’s ankles wobbled as she walked unsteadily to the pond. Once she was on the ice, she started out slow. Afraid Corey might think she was a baby, Sara explained, “I haven’t skated since last year.” It didn’t take long, though, for her to feel more comfortable, and she skated faster. Although glad Corey’s dad had checked the ice, Sara still avoided the middle. And whenever Corey ventured there, she kept a watchful eye on him in case the ice cracked and he fell in.
Sara tried a circular turn that came out so gracefully she threw her arms out exuberantly—like she’d seen skaters do on TV. Then she waved her arms gracefully up and down. “Maybe I’ll start taking lessons and go to the Olympics,” she called out.
“You’re too old,” Corey said, skating up to her. “I saw on TV that gymnasts start really young. I bet it’s the same for skaters.”
Her lips pressed thin. Privately, Sara thought she could still be in the Olympics if she really wanted to, but she let it drop. “Do you go skating a lot with your dad?”
“Yeah. He likes to skate. Dad used to go a lot when he was little. Does your mom skate?”
“Not too much.”
They went round and round. Corey fell a lot, but then he skated a lot faster and made sharper turns than she did. When he began skating backwards, Sara stood still, watching in open admiration.
“Can you teach me how to do that?”
“Sure,” Corey said. “The easiest way to learn is to hold on to my hands so you can keep your balance. That’s how my dad taught me. But watch first, and I’ll show you how to move your feet.” He gracefully weaved his feet in and out.
It looked easy. “Okay. Let me try.”
Corey held her hands, steadying her as she tried to make her feet obey. Awkward and frowning in concentration, she watched her feet, willing them to move like Corey’s had. One trip around the pond, and Sara was already steadier. It was a great help to have Corey hold her hands and give her momentum.
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