How Sweet It Is

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Hi, Willow. Nice to meet you.” Jed didn’t offer his hand since both of hers were busy holding her wriggling toddler.

  Willow didn’t return the greeting immediately. She simply stared at him, her light-blue eyes seeming almost too big for her face. Her complexion was so pale he wondered if she’d ever been in the sun, even for a minute. Finally, she said, “I . . . I’d better find the nursery. AJ wants down.”

  “Sure.” Holly glanced at Jed. “I’m going to show her to the children’s wing. We’ll join you in the sanctuary in a few.”

  “Okay.” He watched them go, an even more troubled feeling settling in his chest. The way Willow had looked at him. Had Holly said something negative about him to the younger woman? But why would she? Still, he had the distinct sensation that Willow had wanted to get away from him.

  “Hey, Jed.”

  He turned toward Ben’s voice. His cousin had his arm around Ashley’s shoulders as the two of them walked toward him.

  “Holly didn’t come with you?” Ashley asked, sounding disappointed.

  “No. She’s here. She’s showing someone to the children’s wing.”

  “I know Grandpa’s already here,” Ben said. “I saw his car outside. Shall we join him or wait here for Holly?”

  “She said she’d meet us in the sanctuary.”

  The threesome moved in that direction, stopping every so often to speak to someone. The exchanges made it obvious how well liked Ben and Ashley were within this congregation. It reminded Jed once again how separate he’d kept himself for so many years, even within the body of Christ. His life had been almost 100 percent about work, and even there he’d formed only a few friendships. By his own choice. He’d been the one to set up boundaries with others.

  Including with his brother.

  His gaze darted to the entrance of the children’s wing. He didn’t like it that Holly had seemed to pull away from him, and yet he’d been doing that very thing for years—and to the people he loved.

  It needs to change. I need to change.

  He was still mulling over that thought when they arrived at the row of chairs where Grant Henning awaited them.

  * * *

  “Holly?” Willow held her son tight against her chest. “I think I’ll stay in here with AJ. They said I could do that and watch the service on the screen. You don’t mind, do you?” Her expression was anxious.

  “Are you sure? AJ will be fine. There’re lots of kids for him to play with, and you could sit with me. I’d love to introduce you to my friends.”

  “No. I’m sure. I want to stay here.”

  Something told Holly not to press too hard. It was enough that Willow had come to church that morning of her own accord. “All right. Would you like me to come for you afterward? We could give you a ride back to the shelter.”

  “No, thanks. We’ll walk back on the Greenbelt. It’s a pretty day.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Holly gave a little wave to AJ, then made her way out of the children’s wing. She told herself not to be disappointed by Willow’s decision. She’d issued many invitations to the women who came to her cooking classes, but none had accepted until today. Willow was here, even if she’d chosen to stay in the nursery. That was something.

  She made it into the sanctuary as the worship team began leading the first praise song and soon reached the chair that had been saved for her between Ashley and Jed. Ashley gave her hand a squeeze of welcome. Holly returned it before setting her purse and Bible on the chair. Then she faced the stage and closed her eyes, joining in the worship.

  * * *

  “It’s not too late,” Jed said as he opened the door of his car for Holly. “We could still meet the others at the restaurant for lunch.”

  “Sorry. I can’t. I have things I must do this afternoon.”

  He was tempted to say she worked too much but stopped himself. Who was he to talk? If he hadn’t come to Boise to look for Chris, if his dad hadn’t suspended operations, he would be thinking about work even if he wasn’t at the office on a Sunday afternoon.

  “Besides,” Holly added, “Trixie’s coming over later.”

  Jed got into the car and started the engine. “More wedding plans?”

  “Of course.” She laughed softly. “It’s all-consuming for my sister, and she seems to want me involved with everything. I should have said all I could do was bake the cake. I never should have agreed to be maid of honor too.”

  “From what I can tell, it’s hard to say no to Trixie.”

  She laughed again, this time with gusto. “You said a mouthful.”

  “I envy how close you two are.” He hadn’t meant to say that.

  “You aren’t close with your brother?” Sympathy had replaced humor in her voice.

  “We were close when we were little. But we grew apart later. It got . . . complicated between us.”

  “It happens.”

  He frowned at the road ahead. “My dad seems to think it’s up to me to fix things. I guess that’s because I’m the older brother. But it’s hard to fix something when you don’t know why it’s broken.”

  As the words left his mouth, he wondered if they were true. Did he really not know why the relationship with his brother was broken? He’d made his impatience with Chris obvious, not only to his brother but to everybody else who worked at Laffriot. He’d tried to force Chris to be more responsible, more ambitious. More like me. The thought made him wince.

  “I’ve been too hard on him. Too hard for too long a time.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I can tell you’re unhappy about it.”

  Funny, he hadn’t thought he was unhappy about it. He’d been angry and irritated. He’d had plenty of reasons to be. But he hadn’t thought he cared that the two of them were no longer close. Until now.

  “Oh, look. Trixie’s already here. I wasn’t expecting her this soon.”

  Jed turned into the alley and parked his car in the garage. By the time they stepped into the backyard, Trixie awaited them by the back door.

  “You’re early,” Holly called to her sister.

  “I know.” Trixie’s gaze went to Jed. “I was with a younger cousin of ours yesterday. His name’s Ricky. Do you know what he likes to do most? He’s a gamer. Isn’t that what you call people who are serious about playing electronic games? Role-playing and shooting and blowing things up and slaying the villain and all that?”

  Jed shrugged.

  Trixie grinned. “You should have seen Ricky’s face when I happened to mention the name of Holly’s new tenant. He said, ‘You mean the Laffriot guy?’ After that, he couldn’t shut up about you.” Trixie turned toward Holly, then looked at Jed again. “This guy’s famous.”

  “Famous?” It was Holly’s turn to look at him.

  “Not me. My company, maybe.”

  “That’s not what Ricky says. He says the game you released last year is the best he’s ever played. He says you’re a genius.”

  Jed felt tension tightening his jaw. Chris was the genius. Jed’s business plans had put the company on the map, but the game itself had been dreamed up by Chris, developed by Chris, perfected by Chris. But some kid in Idaho didn’t know that. He knew about Laffriot. He knew about Jed. But Chris wasn’t on the boy’s radar.

  And that was Jed’s fault.

  His jaw was throbbing now. “I’d better leave you two to your wedding plans.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed toward the apartment stairwell.

  Saturday, August 2, 1969

  Andrew sat on a bale of hay. He swiveled the cane between his hands as he watched Grant doctoring a wound on the back leg of the large buckskin called Two-Bits. Even with the doors open at both ends of the barn, the air was still and warm. The dog days of summer were upon them for sure.

  He wished he could join his grandson in the stall. He wished he could bend down and pick up the gelding’s leg. For that matter, he wished he could saddle t
he horse and go for a ride, even if it was only a circle around the borders of the farm. He hoped his days in the saddle weren’t gone for good. Only this morning, he’d looked in the mirror and taken note of his gray hair. Like many other things in life, turning gray had happened so slowly he’d hardly noticed. From dark to salt-and-pepper to stone-colored. From young man to middle-aged to senior citizen. In the blink of an eye.

  Grant set the horse’s hoof down and looked at his grandfather. “Are Aunt Francine and Pat still up at the house?”

  “Yes. I think they plan to stay until after lunch.”

  “I suppose Aunt Francine let you know what she thinks about me and Charlotte living here after the wedding.”

  “Of course. Who hasn’t shared their opinion?” He heard the voices of his children in his head. Nobody seemed to think it was a good idea. Nobody except for him and Helen, Grant and Charlotte.

  “Grandpa, does it matter what the others say as long as the four of us are good with it?”

  Andrew gave the cane a good spin. “Perhaps not. On the other hand, I want to make certain I’m not being selfish, thinking of only what will make me happy. I have to ask, is it fair to you to start off your married life living with your grandparents? Even if it’s for a good reason and the ultimate outcome you desire.”

  “I’ve already answered that question. And if you don’t believe Charlotte feels the same way, ask her.”

  He was about to say he would do that when his granddaughter Pat ran into the barn.

  “Grandpa, something’s wrong with Grandma.”

  He rose quickly, grimacing at the pain, and hurried toward the house. When he arrived in the kitchen, he found Helen looking shaken and tired, but the worst of the episode seemed to be over. According to what the physician at the hospital had said, that was one sign it wasn’t a stroke. TIAs lasted a shorter time, and the effects didn’t remain long either.

  Francine stood near her mother at the kitchen table. “Dad?” She looked at him, fear in her eyes.

  He nodded to show he understood what hadn’t been said.

  “Don’t you . . . dare call . . . for an ambulance.” Helen didn’t lift her gaze from her hands, folded on the table. “There is nothing . . . they can do for me . . . but tell me to rest.”

  Francine leaned forward, trying to force her mother to see her. “You should at least call your doctor. What if this is more serious than last time?”

  Andrew went to his wife’s other side and managed to kneel down so he could study her face. He tried to hide the concern he felt. Instead, he wanted to reassure her.

  “Please.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “No hospital.”

  He nodded. “Into bed, then.”

  Francine helped Andrew get Helen to the bedroom, but afterward, he shooed his daughter away while he helped his wife remove her clothes, put on her nightgown, and get into bed. Then he sat on a nearby chair and waited for her to drift off to sleep.

  God, he prayed, she knows You. She loves You. Be merciful to her and to us.

  When he was sure she slept, he went to the living room where the others waited for him. “She’s resting.”

  “Dad, it isn’t even two weeks since this happened the first time.”

  “I’m aware of that, Francine.”

  “It scared me, seeing her like that.”

  “I know.” He sank onto his favorite chair. Although not the same chair he used to call his favorite, it was in the same spot the other one had been. During the war years, he’d been able to reach out and turn on the radio. That radio was long since gone. But the old bookshelf remained nearby, filled with a collection of books. It was comforting to see the familiar items beside him.

  “Dad.”

  He pulled his attention to his daughter.

  “I’ve been doing some research, and I think you should take Mom to see a vascular neurologist. They have experience in the diagnosis and management of strokes.”

  “Your mother didn’t have a stroke. A transient ischemic attack is similar but still different. That’s what we were told.”

  Francine leaned forward and took hold of his right hand. “But a TIA is often a sign that a stroke could be next.”

  Andrew heard her words. He even knew she was right. But he wanted to resist acknowledging it as long as possible. It would become too real once he did that.

  “Why don’t I ask around for recommendations for a neurologist in Boise? There must be someone good who can answer our questions. I’m sure the doctor who cared for her in the hospital was competent, but I want her to see a specialist. Please.”

  Was he a coward because he didn’t want to ask those questions aloud to another physician? But he knew the answer. He had to ask. Like it or not, he had to ask.

  O Lord, help us. Have mercy on us.

  Chapter 12

  Willow Flynn came alone to Sweet Caroline’s on Monday morning. While Holly was delighted to see her, it was a disappointment when more women didn’t come for lessons. Still, she’d learned not to take it personally. The gals at the shelter often had other commitments that couldn’t be shifted to another day or time.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Holly said as Willow tied the apron around her waist. “I looked for you after the service yesterday, just in case you changed your mind about a ride home.”

  “We left as soon as the pastor finished his prayer.”

  “I hope you’ll want to come back again.”

  Willow gave a slight nod. “Maybe.”

  Leaving well enough alone, Holly turned toward the items on the counter. “We’re making a Tex-Mex skillet today. I hope you’re hungry. The recipe serves eight, and there are only two of us. Why don’t you start by washing those vegetables?” She pointed at the lettuce, green bell pepper, tomato, and jalapeño.

  Except for brief words of instruction from Holly every now and then, the two women were silent as Willow shredded, diced, minced, and grated the various items on the work counter. It wasn’t until the lean ground beef was browning in a large skillet that Willow spoke again. “Your . . . friend . . . The one who was with you yesterday. Have you known him long?”

  “Jed?” She looked at Willow, wondering what prompted the question, but the younger woman was concentrating on the meat in the skillet, stirring it with a wooden spoon. “No, I haven’t known him long.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  Willow didn’t seem like a gamer, but Holly had to wonder if she’d recognized Jed’s name the same way Ricky had. “My house has a basement apartment,” she answered. “He’s renting it.”

  “I thought you said he was visiting.”

  “He is. He only rented the apartment for three months.”

  “An apartment,” Willow said as she turned to look at Holly. “If he’s only staying for three months, does that mean the apartment will be up for rent again?”

  Holly might not know why Willow asked about Jed, but she definitely understood her interest in the apartment. The young mother must hope for a place of her own to rent once she was ready to leave the shelter. Low-income housing was at a premium in the valley. To be honest, it was closer to nonexistent, which made things difficult for a single mother like Willow. She doubted the girl could afford the rent that Holly required. Rather than get Willow’s hopes up, Holly pointed to the other items on the counter. “We need to get everything into the skillet now.”

  Conversation ended as Willow added the frozen corn, beans, water, and spices to the browned meat. While the mixture simmered, Holly showed her how to make the salsa, adding jalapeño and a pinch of salt to the grated tomato and onion. Before long, the two women sat at a small table to sample the results of the morning’s efforts. Holly watched Willow take her first bite. A moment later a smile blossomed on the younger woman’s face.

  “This is really good.”

  “Surprised?”

  “No. Everything you teach us how to make is good.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “I
’m not just sayin’ it to be nice. It is always good. And it makes me happy to know I can make healthier food for AJ instead of giving him mac and cheese from a box.”

  The compliment brought a mist of tears to Holly’s eyes. She was so often miserable when working at the restaurant. But never in these few hours on a Monday. Blinking back the tears, she asked, “Do you think it’s too spicy for AJ?”

  Willow took another bite and waited until she swallowed before answering. “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t use the salsa for his meal, but I think he’d like the rest.”

  “He’s such a cute little boy. I hope he enjoyed being in the nursery at church.”

  “He did. I wasn’t sure how he’d like it. He can be real shy around strangers. Even other kids his age. He’s never been around many people up until we got to the shelter.”

  Holly silently debated her next question. She wanted to know where AJ’s father was, why he wasn’t helping to support his little family. But she decided to try to find out in a less direct way. “Does AJ look like his dad?”

  Sadness filled Willow’s eyes. “Yes. A little.” There was a small catch in her voice.

  “I’m sorry. Was that too personal?”

  “No.” Willow shook her head slowly.

  Holly knew the younger woman’s answer wasn’t completely the truth. The question had been too personal. She also knew Willow wasn’t going to say more about the man who’d fathered AJ. Not this time anyway.

  * * *

  Jed sat on the apartment sofa, Great-Grandpa Andrew’s Bible open on his lap, staring at the three names in the margin next to the story of the prodigal son. Andrew’s now-familiar hand had scrawled both Oscar and Wendy. Jed had written his brother’s name. He placed a finger on it, his chest aching as he wondered what he could have done in the past to have altered the way things were now.

  He’d lain awake a lot of the night, remembering Trixie’s declaration of his fame. Sure, he’d had a lot to do with the success of Laffriot. It took business sense to successfully launch a start-up. It took good management. It took strategic thinking. But without Chris . . .