For A Father's Love

by JoAnn A. Grote

  Mouthwatering aromas of roasting turkey and baking pumpkin pies greeted Mandy, Ellen, and the girls when they arrived in late morning. The girls carried the toys they’d brought into the living room to play with beneath Grandpa Seth’s watchful eyes while the women finished preparing the meal.

  The large country kitchen with its cheery yellow walls allowed Grandma Tillie, Mandy, and Ellen to work without crowding each other. Pots and pans filled with potatoes, carrots, green beans, and cranberries covered all four stove burners.

  Grandpa Seth’s great-great-grandmother’s woodburning stove still stood against one wall, but it was only used in emergencies when electricity fell victim to mountain storms. Grandma Tillie kept the stove’s cast iron gleaming. A huge old graniteware coffeepot sat on a burner like a proud watchman.

  Mandy, still humming the morning song, stood at the white rectangular table in the middle of the room and sliced celery for the relish tray. The fresh smell of soap and water and the enticing scent of aftershave warned her of Jason’s presence before she heard him. The sense of his nearness sent delightful tingles along her nerves.

  He reached around her and picked an olive from the crystal tray in front of her. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mandy.”

  The simple action provoked a sweet memory of the way her father loved to come up behind her mother when she worked in the kitchen, give her a hug with one arm to divert her attention while with the other he stole a tidbit from whatever she was preparing.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Jason.” She turned to smile at him and caught her breath softly. He’d changed from his usual jeans and flannel shirt into gray chinos and a black polo sweater.

  Ellen, holding a jar of spiced apple rings, stopped beside them. “You clean up good, J. P.”

  He certainly does, Mandy thought.

  “You ladies don’t look so bad yourselves.”

  “Why is it compliments are so hard to recognize coming from you? ‘Don’t look so bad.’ You couldn’t say we look movie-star gorgeous?” Ellen held out the jar of apple rings toward him. “Here. Make yourself useful.”

  He took the jar. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Take the rings out of the jar and put them on the relish dish.” Ellen explained slowly and distinctly as if speaking to a young child. “And use a fork, not your fingers.”

  Mandy grinned. Ellen and Jason had always teased each other this way. Mandy retrieved the jar from Jason. “You know better than to put him in charge of any kind of food, Ellen. There won’t be any apple rings left for the rest of us if he gets a chance at these.” She slapped lightly in the direction of Jason’s fingers as he reached for another olive. “See what I mean?”

  Jason shook his hand in pretend pain. “You are two tough ladies in a kitchen.”

  “Someone needs to guard the food,” Mandy retorted, “and make sure others get to eat today.” She enjoyed the everyday ordinariness of simple exchanges like this with him.

  Beth and Bonnie wandered into the kitchen. Bonnie held up a folded piece of white typing paper. “Look what I made for my daddy, J. P.”

  Jason looked at the paper. “Hey, it’s a turkey.”

  “It’s a Thanksgiving card,” she explained.

  Beth shook her head. “He can tell that, Silly.”

  Bonnie ignored her. “I made it myself. I held my hand on the paper and drew around my fingers.” She pointed to the colorful crayon turkey. “See? My fingers made the tail and my thumb made the head.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed.”

  Jason’s compliment brought a grin to Bonnie’s face.

  Beth shrugged her shoulders and brushed at her blond hair with one hand. “I learned how to do that in kindergarten.”

  Bonnie’s grin faded.

  “You must have attended more advanced kindergarten than I did,” Jason told them, “because I never learned how to do this.”

  Bonnie’s grin returned. “Do you think my daddy will like it?”

  “Of course he will.” Jason handed the card back to her. “He’ll think you’re a great artist.”

  Mandy’s heart caught in an unexpected sweet pain at Jason’s loving attitude toward the girls.

  Beth walked to the counter where Grandma Tillie stood counting serving bowls. “Can Bonnie and me help, Grandma Tillie?”

  The older woman wiped her hands on her terry-cloth apron and looked around the kitchen. “The dining room table isn’t set yet. Come along. I’ll show you where everything is.” She took a couple steps and stopped. “I forgot to iron the tablecloth. Ellen, would you do that?”

  As the four left the kitchen for the diningroom, Mandy heard Bonnie ask, “Will Daddy be here soon?”

  Jason leaned back against the kitchen table and glanced at the oak wall clock. “Eleven-thirty. Surprised Zach isn’t here yet. Thought he flew into Winston-Salem last night.”

  Mandy nodded. “That was his plan, and Winston-Salem is only a little over an hour from here.”

  “If he doesn’t show up after promising those kids. . .” Jason stopped without stating the implied threat.

  “I don’t know whether to be angry with him for keeping them waiting or glad he’s arriving late so there’s less time we need to spend with him.”

  Jason grinned. “Why, Mandy. That’s about the meanest comment I’ve ever heard you make.”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “Are you implying that I am a Pollyanna?”

  “I think that’s a pretty apt description.” He reached for another olive.

  “Just because I don’t think it’s necessary to say unkind things about people doesn’t mean I’m not realistic.”

  “True. You must be realistic about business. That’s a great store you created.”

  She debated a moment whether to allow him to so easily change the subject and decided carrying hurt feelings over such a small matter wasn’t worth the effort.

  He reached for a piece of celery. She brushed his fingers away. “One little compliment doesn’t entitle you to more food.”

  He chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was surprised when Gram said you’d be spending Thanksgiving with us. I thought you’d spend it in Asheville with your folks.”

  Did he resent her spending the holiday with his family? She searched his eyes but saw no anger there. “My parents moved to Texas two years ago. My brother and his family live in San Antonio. My parents like it there, and my brother’s family gave Mom and Dad the excuse they were looking for to move. They spend Easter with Ellen and me, and Thanksgiving and Christmas with our brother’s family.”

  “Do you miss living near them?”

  “Not as much now as I did at first. I don’t feel cheated that they’ve chosen to live closer to my brother than to me and Ellen, if that’s what you mean. In this day and age, it’s easy to travel. I plan to make a trip to San Antonio this winter when the Christmas rush is past. Speaking of distances, how are your partners in New York getting along without you?”

  She instantly regretted her question. His face looked suddenly tired.

  “Neal, the senior partner, likes to complain whenever we talk, but I’m not worried about the firm. It’s not like I’m the only knowledgeable player.”

  “No, of course not,” she murmured. “Grandpa Seth said you were working on a major merger at the time of his heart attack. He’s concerned that because you came here, your client didn’t receive the best representation.”

  “The client’s case turned out fine.” Jason straightened and wandered toward the stove.

  Mandy wondered whether he moved so she couldn’t see his expression.

  “I spent a lot of time on the phone and computer to the office until the deal was done,” Jason admitted.

  Worrying about his clients in addition to putting in fourteen- to eighteen-hour days here can’t be good for him.

  Ellen bustled back into the room. “Every five minutes all morning it’s been ‘How much longer until Daddy’s here?’ ”

  “Zach
knows you’re here at Gram and Gramps, right?” Jason asked.

  “He knows. I even gave him the phone number here and told him dinner is at noon. He’s just acting his usual unreliable self.”

  “There’s still a few minutes left before twelve,” Mandy tried to reassure her. “Zach will probably drive up right on the hour.”

  He didn’t.

  “We’ll just keep everything warm.” Grandma Tillie turned down the heat beneath the potatoes. “Won’t hurt things to cook awhile longer. Won’t be the first time we didn’t sit down to dinner right on the minute we planned.”

  “Does Zach carry a cell phone?” Mandy asked.

  Ellen shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  At twelve-thirty, they still waited. Ellen’s temper grew shorter. Everyone’s stomachs grew hungrier.

  Ellen called Zach’s California number. “Just in case he never left.” No answer.

  Mandy hurried back to the Christmas barn and checked their E-mail and answering machine. No message.

  By one o’clock, Zach still hadn’t arrived. Bonnie’s eager expression was changing to fear of disappointment. Beth’s I-don’t-care attitude had blossomed into outright belligerence.

  Seated at the kitchen table with Grandma Tillie and Ellen, Mandy looked over at her sister. Ellen’s lips were tight with fury.

  Jason sat down beside Mandy. She gave him a tired smile, but his attention was on Ellen. “I think it’s time we made some phone calls.”

  Anger drained away from Ellen’s face, leaving it pale. “You think Zach’s been in an accident?”

  “I think it’s possible. He lived in this area for years, so it’s not likely he’s lost. The weather’s good for travel—no rain, snow, ice, or fog—but accidents happen.”

  Ellen took a deep breath and nodded.

  Jason turned to his grandmother. “The girls are pretending to watch television with Gramps. Why don’t you make sure they stay there? It’s probably best if Ellen calls from the office. Less chance the girls will overhear her there.”

  Mandy kept her arm around Ellen’s waist as they followed Jason. An office window looked out over a pattern of Christmas tree plantings on a distant hill. Maps of cities covered a large bulletin board on one wall, red tacks marking Christmas tree lots. The opposite wall held maps of the Always Christmas Farm, with indications of the types of trees and stage of growth in each area.

  Jason first verified the plane Zach had been scheduled on had arrived on time. The state patrol knew of no accidents with a man of Zach’s description. Jason’s last call was to the local hospital. When he hung up, he shook his head. “Zach’s not there.”

  Ellen, looking dejected, sat in the green leather desk chair, swinging it back and forth with a push of her foot.

  Jason leaned against the old oak filing cabinet beside the desk. “I suppose we could call the California state patrol and see if Zach was in an accident there. Or call all the hospitals in Winston-Salem.”

  “Sounds like a lot of work,” Ellen said.

  Mandy stared at the ceiling. There must be a way to find him. “Where are his parents living now?”

  “Iowa. Not exactly on the flight pattern from Los Angeles to Winston-Salem,” Ellen clarified with a hint of sarcasm.

  “We called our parents this morning,” Mandy reminded her. “A lot of people call their parents on holidays.”

  Ellen stopped swinging the chair. “Zach does usually call his parents on holidays.” She stood up. “I’ll go down to the barn and get their phone number.”

  Jason dialed 4-1-1. “It’s quicker to dial information.” He handed Ellen the cell phone.

  Mandy sent up a silent prayer as Ellen said hello.

  When the call was over, Ellen set the phone down with exaggerated care. Then, fingertips on the top of the desk, she looked from Jason to Mandy. “Zach’s spending Thanksgiving with his agent’s family, who kindly invited him to join them since he hasn’t got family in the area.”

  Her voice was sweet. Too sweet. A blowup Mandy could understand, but this? “Ellen?”

  Ellen gave the desk chair a shove. It rolled across the room. “He could have called and told the girls something else came up and he’s sorry—horribly sorry—to miss Thanksgiving with them.”

  Mandy slipped off the desk and slid her arm across Ellen’s shoulder, wanting to give her a hug and share her pain.

  Ellen stepped away and stormed to the door. “Buckshot is too good for that man.”

  Mandy felt Jason’s hand on her shoulder and was grateful for it. She knew her sister was trying to stay strong, but Ellen’s rejection of her sympathy hurt. Mandy tried to put it aside. Ellen and the girls’ emotions were the ones that mattered now.

  Ellen yanked the door open. Then she closed it slowly and leaned her forehead against it. “What am I going to tell the girls?”

  Thirteen

  Anger at Zach’s selfishness surged through Jason’s veins. He crossed the room and cupped his hands about Ellen’s shoulders. “Tell them the truth, at least part of it. Tell them Zach didn’t make it because of business.”

  “They’ll wonder why he didn’t call.”

  “Say they can call him later. If you want to, that is.”

  “Want to?” Ellen gave a shaky imitation of a laugh. “I never want to speak to him again. But I won’t stop the girls from calling him.”

  “Shall I go with you to tell the girls?” Mandy asked.

  Ellen shook her head. “No. But I’d appreciate it if you’d tell Grandpa Seth and Grandma Tillie.” Ellen gave another shaky laugh. “I’m sure Grandpa Seth is more than ready to eat his Thanksgiving dinner.”

  While Ellen spoke with the girls in the living room, Jason and Mandy told Grandpa Seth and Grandma Tillie in the kitchen. Anger and frustration registered on Grandpa Seth’s bearded face. “Some men never realize it’s a privilege to be a father and to spend time with their children.”

  Grandma Tillie, her lips tightened into a straight line, patted her husband’s arm.

  They’re thinking about Mom, Jason realized. Thinking how they’d give anything for another few minutes with their only child. I’d give anything for a few minutes with Mom too. The remembrance made Zach’s behavior appear even crueler.

  “Guess it’s time to get dinner on the table.” Grandma Tillie picked up quilted, scorched hotpads. “Expect your heart won’t keep you from carving the turkey, Seth.” At the oven she turned around. “Those young-uns will be upset enough without lookin’ at any more long faces. Let’s try to keep things cheerful for them.”

  By the time the serving pieces were all on the table, Bonnie had cried herself out, though her eyes appeared swollen and red-rimmed. Beth’s eyes looked suspiciously bright, but Jason doubted she’d allowed herself to cry over her father’s change in plans. She carried the I-don’t-care-what-my-Dad-does-he-can’t-hurt-me look with which Jason had become familiar. She was one tough little kid. On the outside anyway.

  “I’m sorry if your dinner’s ruined,” Ellen apologized to Grandma Tillie while everyone seated themselves.

  “Don’t you worry yourself about it. A little gravy and a lot of love makes anything taste good,” Gram assured.

  Mandy sat beside Jason, and when everyone held hands and repeated grace together, it gave Jason special pleasure to hear her sweet voice join with his in thanksgiving. It also brought back memories of holidays past he and Mandy had spent with Gram and Gramps, and a painful lump filled his throat when he acknowledged that today he and Mandy weren’t here as a couple. He tried to push the pain away. He and Mandy had at least formed a tentative friendship in the last few weeks. He should be satisfied with that and grateful for it.

  Gramps’s mildly outraged voice broke into Jason’s thoughts.

  “What are you doing, Woman? I can dish up my own food. Been doing it since I was old enough to hold a fork.”

  Gram, seated beside Gramps, put a tablespoon of mashed potatoes on his plate. “I’ve watched you dish up yo
ur own food for over fifty years. I know the way you pile up the most fattening food. Need to watch out for those arteries of yours.”

  “I’ll watch out for my own arteries.” Gramps grabbed the serving spoon.

  Gram gripped the spoon harder. “We’ve seen how well that worked out. Landed you flat on your back in the emergency room.”

  “I’m not apt to forget it. Let go of that spoon. You’ve fed me nothing but vegetables all week. It’s Thanksgiving. One decent meal isn’t going to put me back in the hospital.”

  Jason chuckled. “Might as well give in, Gramps. She’s bound and determined to keep you around.”

  “Even though you’re ornery as a mule.” Gram released the spoon and the bowl of potatoes. “Just remember what the doctor said and see that you watch your portions.”

  “Like living with a nurse,” Gramps grumbled. “Where’s the candied yams?”

  “Didn’t make any.” Gram handed him the turkey platter. “Enough other food today that’s bad for your heart.”

  “Hardly seems like Thanksgiving without candied yams. Suppose you didn’t make pumpkin pie and whipped cream either.”

  “Did so. Don’t be thinking you’ll get more than a sliver of dessert, though. Consider yourself fortunate your Thanksgiving dinner isn’t turnip greens and nothing more.”

  Jason, Ellen, and Mandy broke into laughter. Jason knew Gram’s nagging was her way of telling Gramps she loved him, and Jason knew Gramps knew it too.

  “Why are you all laughing?” Distress and fear filled Beth’s eyes. “Are you going to get sick again, Grandpa Seth?”

  Seeing her terror, Jason disciplined his grin and saw Mandy and Ellen do the same.

  Gramps handed the turkey platter to Gram and turned his full attention to Beth. “I’m going to do my best not to get sick again. It’s true I need to eat healthy foods, but one Thanksgiving meal isn’t going to hurt me, and Tillie knows that.” He grasped Gram’s hand. “Isn’t that right?”