by Lyn Cote
“Don’t you realize how Dena hated being so alone?”
She wasn’t alone. She had our father and me.”
“Your father traveled constantly while Dena was growing up. And you were ten years older than we were. Didn’t you ever notice how she was always next door at my house or with Lucy?”
“What are you saying? Are we going to have a contest over who loved Dena more?”
“No! You’re not listening to me!” Her heart pounded while the heaviness in her breast increased.
“What am I missing?”
“When you were growing up, your parents were still together—”
“I don’t want to go into that.”
“Just listen. After your mother left, you no longer were a complete family. Your father traveled. You were busy at school, busy with a different stage of life than Dena. You weren’t a kid when she was.”
“Are you making this up or did Dena really feel this way—that she didn’t have a family?”
Jane nodded, controlling her reactions to her inner distress. “We talked about it a lot when we were teens together. You were away at school, and then you went to Chicago to start your business.”
“If Dena resented this, why didn’t she say something?”
“She didn’t resent it. It wasn’t your fault. She wasn’t crippled by it. She was just glad she had me and Lucy and my parents.” Though filled with her own suffering, Jane watched Cash. She had to make him understand the part of Dena’s reasoning she had surmised. Dena hadn’t given her Angie in order to wound her brother.
Cash shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stared at the ground.
“Don’t you see? Dena wanted to share my family with Angie. Dena loved you, but she turned to my family for what she lacked.” Jane longed to add, Dena wanted Angie to love God, too, Cash, but she knew too well this would shatter the tentative link she was trying to forge. Cash had never understood Dena’s love for the Lord.
“I never knew she felt that way,” he muttered.
“Cash, you’ve decided to live your life solo, but I think Dena preferred Angie to be part of a choir.”
“What you’ve said really changes nothing.”
“Changes nothing?” Jane’s voice shrilled, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why do I always have to share my time with Angie, with you? I’d like to have her to myself.”
Though she had never feared that Cash would steal Angie, her panic accelerated.
“Why do you cling so tightly to Angie? Every time I come near it’s as though you’re pushing me away.”
“I don’t push you away,” Jane denied weakly.
“Yes, you do. I want to know why, and I want you to stop it.”
“But Angie is so little yet.” Jane quivered.
“What has that got to do with anything?”
“She still needs me to be with her.”
He shrugged his shoulders in a show of irritation. “You leave her with babysitters on and off every week.”
“Just my aunt, uncle, Tish and Lucy.” She felt herself crumbling inside.
“Why not me, then?”
“It’s not the same.” She looked down at the open toes of her sandals.
“Yes, it is. Why won’t you let me take charge of Angie some evenings?”
Her head snapped back up to face him. “Because that’s what you’d do—take charge of Angie, just like you did last night.”
“What do you mean by that?” His deep voice began to rise in volume. “Am I supposed to be in the wrong, because Angie and Lucy needed air-conditioning?”
“No, but don’t you see, you didn’t talk the matter over with me.” Her voice and body shook. “You just came in and took over. ‘You need this, so I’ll do that.’ No discussion. Just issuing orders.” She hugged herself, trying to mask her trembling.
“Why do you have to be so touchy?”
“Why do you have to be so bossy?”
“Bossy. Touchy. It comes down to this, Red. I’ve turned my life upside down to accommodate my sister’s twisted will and your lifestyle. I reorganized my business. I learned to fly. I moved north and started a whole new branch of my firm. Now I’m going to have Angie by myself one day a week or else.”
Jane felt her self-control disintegrate, just as it had that January day in the social worker’s office. Just the way it had over the past six months during private moments whenever she thought of Dena. To hide her tears, she rushed a few yards away into the forest of fir trees.
Casting a glance at the peacefully swinging baby, Cash pursued Jane. “Come back here,” he called through tightly clenched teeth.
He caught up with Jane easily and spun her around to face him. “Why are you crying like this? Do you think I’ll let you have your way if you cry hard enough?” He gripped her by the shoulders. “I won’t be manipulated by tears.”
“I can’t help it,” she spoke between sobs. She pressed her hands over her face. “I miss Dena so much.”
“We weren’t talking about Dena. Why did you bring her up? Is this some kind of emotional blackmail? Do you think if you can upset me, I’ll let this drop?”
“No, but whenever I think about being away from Angie, my grief over losing Dena bubbles up and I can’t stop it.”
“I can’t help that. I lost Dena, too.”
“I know, but in some way inside me, Angie and Dena are linked. Losing Angie feels like losing Dena.”
“Of course they’re linked. Why else would I want Angie? If you don’t let me have Angie one day a week, you’ll force me to take you to court.”
“No.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. Cash’s grip braced her, keeping her standing straight, bolstering her with his strength. A glance up into his pained face slowed her tears. She brushed away her tears with her fingertips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for understanding. “Truly, Cash.”
“I miss Dena, too,” he said gruffly, tugging her back to where Angie still swung peacefully.
“I know.” She wiped away her tears. “It’s still so hard to accept. I keep telling myself Dena is with God, beyond pain and sorrow. But that doesn’t ease away the hurt of loss.” For a moment Jane let herself imagine the comfort of resting her head on Cash’s broad shoulder.
They were silent awhile. Then Cash raised his chin. “When can I have Angie to myself?”
Jane made herself think. She had lost Dena, but in spite of her grief, she was bound by her faith to do what was right for Angie and Cash. Though she didn’t feel it right now, she knew God would provide the extra strength she would need to overcome her fears. “All right.” Saying the words turned her insides-to quivering jelly again, but she looked up into Cash’s face resolutely.
“When?” he demanded.
“In two months, Angie will be a year old.”
“I can have her on her birthday?”
“No, I’m planning a big party on that day. You can have her on the twenty-fourth?”
“The twenty-fourth.” He wanted to press her to move the date forward, but perhaps it was better to accept this hard-won concession. He’d just hold her to it. Reluctantly, he nodded.
Jane tugged at his arm and he followed her back to Angie, who was kicking her chubby legs and cooing skyward at the large white clouds overhead. At the sight of Jane, the baby gave one quick cry. “Want your bottle, sweetie?” Jane asked.
Cash carried the baby back to the quilt and laid her down. Jane rummaged through the denim bag and brought out a bottle of formula. With the bottle finally clutched between her chubby hands, Angie relaxed and sucked loudly.
“I feel like I’ve run a ten-mile race,” Jane murmured.
“Before we have lunch, would you mind if I stretched out for a few minutes?”
“Go ahead. I’ll watch Angie.”
Jane lay down beside the baby and closed her eyes. When Angie’s eyes also drifted shut as she sucked contentedly, Cash lay down, too.
He stared up into the blue sky for a long time, then glanced at Jane beside him. The lake breeze played with wisps of red hair around her tranquil face. One of her arms was extended and curved around Angie. The tiny freckles, flecks of gold, on Jane’s arm fascinated him. The blue-tinged shadows beneath her eyes touched his heart. Jane hadn’t begrudged any of the lost sleep and worry it had cost her to care for his niece.
He stirred inside and resented it. Why had he started noticing Red as an attractive woman? This afternoon when she’d wept he’d fought the urge to pull her into his arms. In all the years he’d known her, she had never meant more to him than his kid sister’s best friend.
Now every time he saw her—even when they argued—he imagined what her lips would taste like and how soft her skin would feel.
Chapter 6
“He hideth my life in the depths of His love, and covers me there with His hand,” Jane sang the final phrase of the chorus, then sat down along with the rest of the congregation. The gentle words of faith, penned by Fanny Crosby nearly a century before, soothed Jane’s heart like warm water bathing chilled fingers. During the showdown with Cash the day before, so many memories and so much sorrow had been stirred, she needed comfort.
On the wall to her right hung a wood panel on which the Beatitudes had been carved. “Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted” caught her eye. Quieting her spirit, she opened herself, asking for God’s comfort. The peace of the church settled around her like a cozy blanket.
The pastor began his sermon. The summer sunshine glowed through the stained-glass window behind him, highlighting the dove of peace flying above the jewel-like blue Jordan River. The quiet of church, broken only by a few throats clearing and the turning of pages, soothed Jane.
Then Lucy patted Jane’s hand. The gentle touch filled with affection nearly brought tears to Jane’s eyes.
As usual, Jane, with Angie in her arms, sat in the middle of the pew between Lucy and Tish. On the other side of Tish sat Aunt Estelle and Uncle Henry. Beside Lucy were Jane’s parents. Never before had Jane comprehended the significance of her family’s placement along the church pew. The youngest, the most frail, nestled in the midst of loved ones.
When Dena and she had been children, Jane had thought they had been placed in the midst of parents so they could be watched for misbehavior. Now she wondered what it would feel like to sit all alone. No doubt Cash would insist on sitting alone. Jane shook her head a fraction. Cash’s armor had always been impenetrable. Once she’d hoped to pierce it to let him love her. Now she knew it was an impossible hope.
Restless in the quiet church, Angie left Jane and climbed onto Tish’s lap. Tish leaned forward and rubbed noses with the baby. Angie squealed her pleasure. When Jane automatically shook her head at Tish, she noticed a flash of white through Angie’s parted lips. She slid her index finger into the baby’s mouth.
“Ouch!” Jane gasped as Angie bit down.
Instant silence. The pastor stopped speaking and turned toward the Everett family. The small congregation imitated him.
Crimson with embarrassment, Jane spoke up, “I just discovered Angie’s first tooth—with my finger.”
Laughter, then spontaneous applause rippled through the church. The pastor grinned, cleared his throat and began again. When the service ended, a throng of grandmothers cooed and crooned over Angie.
Finally Jane joined her family, who were gathered in the shade of an old maple. Henry and Phil discussed the possible places to have lunch. Lucy turned to Jane. “I want you to invite Cash to our Fourth of July picnic.”
“Oh?” Jane tried to sound unconcerned.
“Yes, Marge or I could extend the invitation, but I think it should come from you.”
“Why?” The warm wind fluttered around them, catching Jane’s full white skirt.
“So he’ll know he’s really welcome.” Lucy stared into her granddaughter’s eyes significantly.
“Very well. I’ll call him from the shop later today. I have some paperwork to do.” And I’ll remind myself that Dena would want me to invite her brother to spend time with Angie. She stiffened her will to begin connecting Cash to their family. Though her human feelings fought against it, she would do what was right, with God’s help.
With Angie on her hip, Jane waited inside the back door of her parents’ summer cottage. In the background Jane heard her mother and grandmother teasing each other in the large country kitchen where they were making a “vat” of potato salad for the annual Fourth of July picnic. From a few cottages away, firecrackers burst in rapid pops like popcorn. Angie twisted in Jane’s arms, trying to see where this unusual noise came from.
“Those are firecrackers. It’s Independence Day, Angie,” Jane said soothingly. “We’re going to have fun. Uncle Cash is coming.” Jane kissed Angie’s soft, downy cheek. “But look. Here comes Aunty Estelle, Uncle Henry and our lovely but spoiled cousin, Tish.” The baby gave serious attention to the threesome walking up the steps. Jane opened the door for them. A hot wind blew against Jane’s cheeks warming her unpleasantly.
“Hello—” Uncle Henry started.
“Jane,” her aunt finished. They both kissed Angie and Jane lightly on the cheek and then went in, calling greetings to Lucy and Jane’s mother.
Tish paused beside Angie. “Hello, sweetie.” As was her custom, Tish gave Angie an Eskimo kiss.
Angie leaned toward Tish, asking to be taken. Jane tried to hold on to Angie, but the little girl pushed and grunted till Jane gave in. Triumphantly Tish hugged the baby to herself and walked toward the kitchen door.
Jane stepped outside. The lake wind wafted around her, doing its best to stir the humidity-laden heat. Cash’s Jeep swooped around the bend, making Jane’s stomach flutter wildly. “Don’t get edgy,” she whispered to herself. “I must share Angie and not let my grief spoil everything.” She tried to make herself decide how to handle Cash today. What if being with him stirred her ill-fated infatuation with him? Would she do or say something that would reveal this to Cash? The thought shook her to her toes.
Cash bounded up the steps. When he came abreast of Jane, a tantalizing excitement shivered through her. Pushing aside her reaction to him, she shaped her mouth into a welcoming smile.
“Where’s Angie?” he asked.
“Hello, Jane,” Jane said formally, trying to teach him manners. “Happy Independence Day.”
Cash paused. “Sorry. Happy Independence Day. Where’s Angie?”
Beckoning him ruefully with her hand, she turned. “Come on in. All the action’s in the kitchen.” The nonchalance in her tone pleased her.
She led him through the house into the large country kitchen. A sudden pride in her family filled Jane with joy. Her grandmother and mother stood side by side, tapping hard-boiled eggs against the sides of the stainless steel sink. The two women were a study in contrasts. Marge, a brunette with an ivory complexion, was fashionably thin and taller than fair Lucy. Marge wore a sporty pair of navy cotton slacks and a white blouse while Lucy wore a floral sundress in shades of peach and yellow.
Her aunt and uncle sat at the table with her father, Phil, who with his fair coloring, looked a great deal like his mother and daughter. For a moment Jane felt like saying something stupid like, This is my family!
“Cash!” Phil stood up. “Great to see you. Happy Independence Day!” Henry stood, also, and shook Cash’s hand warmly.
“Come here, Cash,” Marge instructed. Cash obeyed. When he was beside her, she turned and gave his cheek an affectionate peck. “We’re so glad you’ve joined us today.”
“We’ll see if he can put up with us for a whole picnic,” Lucy put in saucily.
Cash grinned and leaned over to kiss Lucy’s cheek.
At the far end of the room near the pantry, Tish was dancing a sort of waltz with Angie in her arms. When Angie caught sight of Cash, she squealed.
“Cash, this is my cousin, Tish.” Jane motioned toward Tish who blushed as though embarrassed. Ang
ie’s continued squealing forced Tish to bring her to Cash. At Phil’s invitation, Cash sat down beside Henry.
“Janie,” Phil ordered, “break out the new deck.”
From a kitchen shelf, Jane took down an unopened pack of ornate blue-and-white cards. She tossed it to her father.
Phil broke the seal and opened the box. “Hope you’re in the mood for Crazy Eights, Cash.”
“Haven’t played in a long time,” Cash admitted. “Why don’t I just watch—”
“No shirkers allowed in this family,” Henry said with a cheerful flourish. “In this world of constant change, there is one constant—on the Fourth of July, the men in this house play Crazy Eights. Now we don’t play for money, but we do play for honor. And I plan to defend my championship again this year.”
Aunt Estelle beamed at her husband.
“Estelle,” Phil chided, “I always told you, you married a card shark.” Phil began to deal three hands efficiently.
Tish sat down beside Cash. “I’ll help you remember the rules.” With her head tilted coquettishly, she smiled.
On the other side of Tish, Jane found herself squelching the urge to shake her cousin. Jane took a deep breath and went to her mother’s side. “Are all your eggs cracked?”
“Yes, all the Humpty-Dumpties have taken their great falls,” Lucy replied mournfully.
“Why don’t you finish the relish tray?” Marge motioned toward a large platter, piled high with fresh vegetables.
Jane nodded and brought out the cow-shaped, wooden cutting board. She began peeling carrots. Her eyes were on her task, but her ears monitored the banter of the card game.
Cash held Angie in his lap and glanced down once more at his cards. The little girl was in one of her serious moods when—either due to fatigue or a personality quirk—she became relaxed. He held his cards in both hands in front of him, and Angie, though drooling onto her terry cloth teething bib, almost looked as though she were studying his cards, too.
He heard Lucy and Marge, talking in easy tones about discarding the eggs that had green around the yolks and trying to fix blame for this blight. The sounds that Jane was making as she peeled and sliced the vegetables were rhythmic, assured, soothing.
