How Sweet It Is

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  He raised an eyebrow in her direction.

  “She hardly talks to anybody. Even to me. But she sure seems to have warmed up to you.”

  “Huh. Don’t think it was anything I said. She seems like a nice girl.”

  Holly leaned closer and lowered her voice even more. “Should I be jealous?” The teasing lilt was back.

  “No need.” He wasn’t teasing. “She can’t hold a candle to you.”

  Holly blushed, and it made him grin.

  “Isn’t it ten minutes yet?” Madalyn asked. “We’re ready to try it out.”

  Jed and Holly turned from the sink, and while Holly headed toward the cooling lasagna, Jed wondered if she noticed the knowing looks on the faces of the other women.

  Tuesday, October 28, 1969

  “An arteriovenous malformation of the brain.”

  The words reverberated in Andrew’s mind.

  Dr. Schwimmer leaned back in his desk chair, his expression grim. “You should take time to think about this.” His gaze moved from Helen to Andrew and back again.

  “Amenable to surgery, but high risk of sequellae or death.”

  Andrew gave his head a slow shake, trying to clear it, to make sense of it all. The medical terminology was beyond him. The word death was not. “If she’d had the test sooner?”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference.”

  “Should we get a second opinion?”

  “That is certainly your prerogative, Mr. Henning. In my professional opinion, you won’t get different answers. However, you and your wife should make your decision based on as much information as possible. If you feel you want to see another neurologist, I can make some recommendations.”

  Andrew looked at Helen. “We could go to Seattle or Salt Lake. There might be—”

  She put her left hand on top of his right, silencing him with the gentle touch. “Dr. Schwimmer, we’ll go home and pray about it. Thank you for explaining things so that I can understand what you’re telling me.”

  “You’re very welcome, Mrs. Henning.” The physician didn’t say he was sorry, yet the words were in his eyes.

  Andrew stood, then took Helen’s arm and tenderly drew her to her feet. With a nod toward the doctor, he turned his wife toward the door to the office, and they walked out in silence. Much as they’d done four weeks earlier.

  Outside on the sidewalk, Helen stopped and tipped her head back, eyes closed. Sunlight bathed her face.

  “You’re as beautiful now as you were as a young girl.”

  She smiled but didn’t open her eyes or lower her head.

  “It’s true.”

  His wife was sixty-one years old, yet her face was still surprisingly smooth. Oh, there were small lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, but nothing like other women her age. Her hair—once richly dark—had turned silver over the past decade. She wore it short now and had it permed to try to disguise how much thinner it was. Yes, she’d changed through the years, but she truly was as beautiful as she’d been when he’d seen her the first time.

  “Come on.” He took her arm again. “Let’s go home.”

  She looked at him now, the smile slowly fading from her lips. “Andrew, I’m not going to have the surgery.”

  His heart seemed to stop beating.

  “If I survived it, I would most likely be handicapped. Perhaps severely. The doctor made that clear. That isn’t how I want to end my days with you.”

  “But without the surgery—”

  “I know. I might have weeks. I might have months. I might even have longer.”

  He’d known. Somewhere down deep in his soul, he’d known from the moment of that first TIA what the results would be, and that he couldn’t stop it from happening.

  “I’m going to choose to live fully while I can. No babying myself for fear of causing a rupture of the . . . What did Dr. Schwimmer call it?”

  “An AVM.” Saying it tasted like sawdust in his mouth.

  Helen touched his cheek with her fingertips. “In God’s book are written all the days that were ordained for me. They were written in it before I was born.”

  “I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m supposed to support you.” The pain in his chest told him how truly weak he was.

  “You’re very old-fashioned, Mr. Henning.” Her tone was teasing, as if they hadn’t just received devastating news. “And I love you for it.”

  He opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace, resting the side of her face against his chest.

  “‘In God I have put my trust,’” she quoted softly. “‘I shall not be afraid.’”

  “In God we have put our trust. We shall not be afraid.”

  But a nugget of fear had lodged in his chest, despite him willing it to go away.

  Chapter 20

  Jed’s pulse jumped when he saw his dad’s ID on the phone screen, unsure what the call might mean. More than a month had passed since Thomas Henning issued his ultimatum. Had his patience reached its limit? Jed had emailed his dad last week after he saw Chris. Not that he’d had any details to share, but at least he’d been able to say there’d been a face-to-face meeting.

  “Morning, Dad,” he answered.

  “Good morning, Jed.” He cleared his throat, then in his all-business voice, he said, “I wanted you to know that operations will start up again at Laffriot on Monday.”

  He released a breath he hadn’t known he held. “That’s . . . unexpected.”

  “I was wrong.”

  His dad’s simple statement surprised Jed. He couldn’t recall hearing his father say those exact words before.

  “I was wrong to put all of the responsibility for what’s gone wrong with Chris on you. I was even more wrong to mix my displeasure about a personal situation with business. I’ve never done that before. I shouldn’t have done it now.”

  Should Jed say thanks? Should he say that he agreed? He wasn’t sure, so he kept silent.

  “Your mom helped me see all that.”

  “Mom did?” He raked the fingers of his free hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you two were talking.”

  His dad took an audible breath. “You and Chris aren’t the only ones who need to make things right. I’ve said I wanted to reconcile with your mother, but I haven’t done much of anything to make that happen. I’m trying to change that now.”

  “I . . . I’m glad to hear it, Dad. Do you want me to come back to Tacoma?”

  “No. That’s not necessary. Not yet. You’ve got good people at Laffriot. Get things worked out with Chris first. Then, hopefully, you can come back together.”

  Strange. He was relieved that he wasn’t expected to return immediately. He wasn’t ready to go back to Washington. And it wasn’t just because he wanted to accomplish what his dad had sent him to do in Boise. It was because he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Holly. He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to say goodbye to Holly.

  “Have you talked to him again?” his dad asked, intruding on Jed’s wandering thoughts.

  “Not yet. He said he’d text me. I’m giving him some space.”

  “Don’t let it drag out too long.”

  “I won’t.” He worried his lip a moment, then said, “Dad, I never knew Chris felt like he was being compared to me and always came up short. Shoot. He even said something about me taking a girl he liked from him. I don’t know who he was talking about. I thought he lacked ambition. I thought he was rebellious and a screwup. But I never thought he was—” He pictured his brother’s expression. “Hurt?”

  “Chris was always more sensitive than you. I saw it as a weakness. I was wrong about that too. I’ve told him I’m sorry for it. Not sure he believed me, but I am.”

  Jed was trying to figure out what to say to that when he heard a knock.

  “Hey, Dad, somebody’s at my door. Hold on, and I’ll see who it is.”

  “No. That’s okay. I’ve got other calls to make. Let me know when you talk to Chris again.”

 
“Okay. I will.”

  He punched End, slipped the phone into his pocket, and headed for the door. When he pulled it open, he discovered Willow Flynn standing on the other side, AJ in her arms.

  “Hi, Jed.”

  What on earth was she doing there?

  “Can I come in and talk to you a minute?”

  He hesitated, unsure. He didn’t know this young woman. Not really. Was it smart to be alone with her? In today’s world, a man had to be careful.

  “Please. It’s important.”

  He frowned. What could be so important that it brought her to his door? Perhaps he should suggest they meet some other time. But something about the way she looked at him wouldn’t let him send her away.

  “Uh, sure.” He took a step back, making room for her to enter. “Come on in.”

  Willow moved to the center of the small living room, her eyes taking in the two windows high on the walls, the sparse furnishings, and finally the photos spread out on the coffee table. She moved closer to them, her gaze unwavering. After a moment she picked one of them up.

  He walked over to see which photo had caught her interest. “That’s me and my kid brother, Chris.”

  “How old were you?”

  “He was fourteen. I was eighteen. We were on a family camping trip just before I started my first year of college.”

  “Down,” AJ demanded as he tried to wriggle free. “Want down.”

  Willow looked at Jed, questioning.

  “Sure. He can’t hurt anything. I’ll put the photos out of reach.” He quickly did so. “Want some coffee or water or anything?”

  “No. I’m good.”

  Jed motioned toward the chair, and Willow settled onto it while keeping an eye on her son. Jed sat on the far side of the sofa, still wondering why she was there. As the wait for her explanation lengthened, he began to feel her tension. It unsettled him.

  At long last she spoke. “You’re lucky to have family. A family that loves each other.”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t have anybody. Except for AJ.”

  He wanted to ask about the boy’s father but thought better of it.

  “I came up through the foster-care system. I don’t remember my real parents much. They were both into drugs, and the state took me when I was pretty young.”

  Jed remembered Holly saying how quiet Willow was, how little she said to others. Why was she telling him all this?

  “I was barely eighteen when I met . . . when I met AJ’s father. Eighteen, afraid, and . . . and confused. I was invisible and—” Her voice caught but she pressed on. “Lonely and unloved. But AJ’s dad made me feel special. Cared for.” Unshed tears glittered in her eyes.

  Sympathy welled within Jed’s chest. He wanted to help in some way but didn’t know how.

  “I fell for him hard. We were together about five months, and then I . . . I found out I was pregnant.” Her gaze lowered to the coffee table between them, and she drew in a slow, deep breath. “He said . . . He said he wasn’t ready to be a father. He didn’t tell me I had to get an abortion, but that’s what he wanted. I couldn’t do it. I packed up what little I owned and left. I ended up living on the streets. Then somebody told me I’d be better off in Boise, so I caught a ride here.” She looked toward her son. “It’s where AJ was born. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” She smiled as she said it, although there were tears in her eyes.

  “What about his father? Shouldn’t he help support his son? Does he know where you and AJ are?”

  “He didn’t for a long time. I didn’t think he would care one way or the other. He didn’t want me to have the baby, so why would he want to know where we were? But after I ended up in the shelter, I was encouraged to make contact. I finally did a few months ago.”

  An odd feeling tightened Jed’s chest. As if he was waiting for the proverbial second shoe to drop. Which made no sense at all. Nothing she’d said concerned him.

  Willow pulled a tissue from her pocket, dried her eyes, and blew her nose. Then she held out her arms. “AJ, come to Mommy.” The toddler raced over to her. She pulled him onto her lap, holding him close. Then she looked at Jed as she ran a hand over the little boy’s hair. “His given name is Andrew Jedidiah.”

  “‘Andrew Jedidiah,’” he echoed softly, that odd feeling in his chest turning into a tight band as reality began to seep in.

  “Andrew for his great-great-grandfather. Jedidiah for his uncle.”

  “Andrew Jedidiah . . . Henning.”

  “Yes.”

  Jed took a breath, then said the words he knew were true, no matter how unbelievable they sounded. “AJ is Chris’s son.”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes went to the boy. The resemblance was clear to him now. The same chubby cheeks. The same impish smile. The same cowlick in his hair. “He giggles like Chris did when he was that age.”

  “Does he?” She smiled, but her eyes remained sad.

  “Me do it.” Jed wasn’t sure if the voice in his memory belonged to his brother from many years before or to AJ from a few days ago. They sounded so much the same. How could he not have guessed the truth immediately?

  He got up and walked to the door. Running his hands over his hair, he tried to make sense of it. Chris was AJ’s father. Chris had obviously followed Willow to Boise after learning about his son. That had to be the reason for his moods and his sudden departure. It explained so much. But why hadn’t he said anything to his family? Why had he kept it a secret? Maybe if Jed had known . . .

  He turned around and saw Willow kiss the top of AJ’s head. She held the little boy tight, and Jed wondered if his silence had made her even more nervous. He cleared his throat. “How long have you known I’m Chris’s brother?”

  “Since the day Holly introduced us at church. Chris talked about you sometimes.”

  Jed stepped forward. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I was afraid.”

  “‘Afraid.’” He said the word beneath his breath.

  “First Chris came to Boise. Then you. I know your family’s got money. Chris always said your father likes to win and likes to do things his way. He said you were the same. I was afraid maybe you’d all try to take AJ from me. I’ve seen stuff like that happen before. I’ve seen foster kids get kidnapped by parents and even grandparents. And once a dad with a gun showed up where I was staying. I didn’t want anything like that happening to us.”

  Jed’s back stiffened. “Has Chris said he wants to take AJ away from you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “He says he wants to be part of his son’s life, and he’ll do whatever he has to do to make me want that to happen too.”

  Good for him, Jed thought, an unexpected feeling of pride welling in his chest. Then he asked, “If you were so afraid of the Hennings, why did you decide to tell me all of this?”

  A sad smile briefly curved her mouth. “Because I don’t want to keep secrets anymore. I don’t want to be afraid either. I’m learning stuff, about myself and about God. I’m learning how to be a better person and a better mom. I don’t want to run away again. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I don’t want to make my life worse by lying to anybody. Once I met you, once I got to talk to you, I knew staying quiet would be the same as a lie. I had to tell you who we are. So now you know.” Willow rose, shifting her son to ride on her hip. “I need to get back to the Lighthouse. I have a class later this afternoon.”

  “I could drive you back.”

  “No, thanks. It’s not far.” She started toward him and the door.

  He put up a hand. “Willow, wait.”

  She stopped.

  “Does Chris know you’re telling me about AJ?”

  “Yes. We . . . talked last night, and I told him I was going to.”

  “Is it okay if I let my parents know?”

  Trepidation filled her eyes. “I’d like Chris to tell them when he’s ready.”

  “But if he doesn’t?”

  “Then do
whatever you think is right. No more secrets. Remember?”

  With a nod, he stepped out of her way.

  She walked to the door and let herself out.

  Jed stood where he was, mulling the encounter. Of all of the things he’d imagined that might come out of this trip to Boise, discovering Chris had a son hadn’t been among them. Would it have made a difference if he’d known? Would he have shown more concern, talked to his brother in a different way, been a better brother?

  Grant’s comment at their lunch a couple of weeks ago echoed in his memory. “You can’t know the whole picture. You don’t have all the facts.” His cousin had been talking about Jed’s parents’ marriage, but it was just as true about Chris. Jed hadn’t known the whole picture. He hadn’t had all the facts. But he had them now. Some, at least. And he hoped having them would help him do the right thing when the time came. Whatever that meant.

  * * *

  When Holly got home from the restaurant on Tuesday evening, she discovered Jed sitting on her back stoop. He didn’t smile as she walked toward him. He looked . . . unsettled.

  “Hi,” she said as she drew near.

  He stood, his expression serious. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  She’d been so happy this past week. Happy because of him. She’d loved their dinner out and their hike and the cake sharing at the Lighthouse and his presence at yesterday’s cooking class. Was it over already? She’d warned herself not to be careless. Had her hopes been raised only to be dashed in so short a time?

  “Sure,” she answered him. “Come on in.” She unlocked the door and led the way into the kitchen, all the while trying to steel herself against bitter disappointment. Stopping near the center island, she turned to face him. “What’s up?”

  “Willow came to see me this morning.”

  His words confused her. “Who came?”

  “Willow.” He paused, took a breath. “She told me my brother is AJ’s father.”

  Holly had no idea how to reply. All she could do was shake her head. Willow and AJ and Chris Henning? How was that even possible?

  Jed glanced toward the living room. “Shall we sit down?”

  This time she nodded, and they both moved in that direction. Once they were seated, Jed shared what Willow had told him, then explained more about his estrangement from his brother. After that, he fell silent, his gaze lowered to the floor.