One Perfect Day

by Lauraine Snelling

  “We’re lucky, huh.”

  “ ‘Blessed’ is more the word.” A wave of weariness washed over her, battering her against the sand of responsibility.

  Heather forced her eyes wide open when it was obvious she’d rather drift off. “You don’t have to worry about me now, Mom. I’m getting better every day. Call Uncle Randy and tell him it’s okay to come visit this weekend.”

  “I will.”

  Heather lost the battle to keep her eyes open, and her hand stroking Elmer rested on his fur.

  Jenna sat on the edge of the bed and reveled in the privilege of watching her daughter breathe, seeing the healthy color in her face, actually hearing the air moving in and out, in spite of the motor rumbling beside her. She stroked the cat’s head and down his back. At first, he’d given her the aloof nose, refusing to look at her, but never Heather. She set the monitor so she could hear Heather from her bedroom and dragged herself across the hall, collapsing on the bed. Call Randy. Obedient to the thought command, she picked up the phone and dialed his cell. The question of why she was so tired bugged her as she listened to the repeated ringing. When it switched to voice mail, she half-smiled at the sound of his voice inviting her to leave a brief message. She did.

  “We are home safe. All is well. I’m going to bed.” She should have left the time. The thought lasted only as long as it took to crawl under the covers, clothes and all.

  She woke to the sound of the television, even though it was turned on low. Heather was up and she’d not even heard her. So much for the value of the monitor. Was this part of what their new life would be like? Her sleeping through things and Heather doing what she wanted, not just what she was able? One of the nurses asked her if she was prepared for this new life and she’d glibly answered in the affirmative. She’d spent most of her life thinking on and doing what was most important for her fragile daughter. Now, at the age of twenty, Heather could really develop that stubborn streak that most likely had helped her survive the many emergencies. I’ll think about this later, she promised herself.

  She threw back the covers and made her way into the living room, yawning and stretching as she went. Inhaling food fragrances, she picked up her pace. She glanced in the living room, cat asleep on sofa, television on low, no Heather. The Christmas tree they had decorated before they left now twinkled and glowed in front of the window. Good thing they had an artificial tree. She stopped in the arched doorway to the kitchen. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, Heather was pulling what looked like a homemade pizza from the oven. Had Matilda stocked their refrigerator?

  “That looks awfully good.”

  “Hi, Mom, did you sleep well?” Heather smiled and glanced down at the pizza as she set it on the stovetop. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  “Yes and yes. That smells heavenly.” She glanced around the kitchen. According to the stuff on the counter, Heather had made the pizza. She’d used a tube of crust mix that Jenna always kept available in the refrigerator, but she’d assembled the remaining ingredients, even grating the mozzarella cheese. You’re doing too much; you should be taking it easy; you’ll pay for this by being so tired you can’t function. The thoughts screamed around in her head and beat upon her lips. The urge to take the pizza cutter away and do it herself made her fingers twitch.

  “Are you…?” Sure you should be doing that? What force of will it took to chop the sentence in half.

  Heather glanced up. “You want to eat in here or the living room?”

  “How about since you cooked, I serve?” And clean up.

  Heather rolled her eyes. “Like how hard is it to carry the pizza pan into the living room?” The slight tightening around her mouth would have been missed—had Jenna not been watching closely.

  Jenna backed off, inside if not on the outside. “You take the pizza, I’ll bring the drinks.” She opened the door to the fridge and continued, “You want root beer or…?”

  “Root beer sounds good.”

  They settled on the sofa, cat stretched out on the back, and propped their feet on the coffee table, the pizza pan between them as they inhaled a first piece each.

  “This might be the best pizza I’ve ever tasted.” Jenna wound the string of cheese around her finger and sucked it off before biting off the small end of the next triangle. “You done good.”

  “I know. Been so long since I made one, I almost forgot how.” Heather hooked her string of cheese back on top of the slice. “I’d have put olives on, but we didn’t have any.”

  “Sorry.” Jenna picked up the remote. “Anything special you want to watch?”

  “MTV?”

  Jenna took a turn at eye rolling. “Sorry, how about CSI?”

  “How can you watch that after working in the ER all the time?” Heather nibbled on the crust of her pizza slice.

  “I’ve always thought forensics fascinating.” Jenna found the right channel.

  “Well, whatever I do, I want to be as far away from anything medical as possible.”

  “What do you think you’d like to do?”

  “You mean now that I might have a life after all?” Heather flipped the rest of the crust back on the pan.

  Jenna flinched. “Living day-to-day is not necessarily a bad thing.” Had she given up dreams of the future? She sent her mind searching for a dream, other than Heather living, any dream would do. Or were all her dreams tied up in her daughter’s probable death and prayers for a new heart? Had she ever thought beyond that? She glanced over to see that Heather was studying the pizza pan as if it were an algebraic equation.

  “Can you believe it? I’m still hungry.” Heather stared up at her mother.

  “So, have another piece.”

  “I’m going to, but…”

  Jenna waited for the rest of the thought, at the same time contemplating a third piece for herself. She usually didn’t have time for a third slice of pizza, had she wanted one. Tonight seemed to be moving in slow motion. She didn’t have to be preparing to go to work at eleven, snatching a last-minute nap. She didn’t have to call Matilda to have her check on Heather. She didn’t have to be monitoring Heather’s breathing and heart rate.

  She reached for another slice of pizza, her hand colliding with Heather’s. They both raised their slices as if in a toast and took big bites.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Uncle Randy called. He’ll be here late tomorrow.”

  “Oh good.” Jenna hoped she sounded nonchalant, but at the same time, she felt like singing. Randy was coming. Not long after that, Jenna dozed off watching CSI and listening to the quiet clicking of the laptop computer keys.

  Heather nudged her mother’s arm. “Mom, why don’t you go to bed?”

  Jenna blinked and glanced at her watch. “My gosh, it’s eleven. You should be in bed.”

  Heather shook her head. “Mo-ther, I…”

  Jenna flinched at the emphasis on the word “mother,” two syllables, heavy enunciation, long word.

  “… I was just going there. Jared said he’s doing better.”

  “Wonderful. I’m glad to hear that.” Jenna glanced around for the pizza pan, but all traces of their supper had been cleared away. She stood, stretched and headed for the kitchen. The cooking mess was cleared away. Heather, you’re doing too much. You’re going to pay for all this effort. Instead, she poured herself a glass of water, drank it and headed for bed, leaving Heather closing up her laptop.

  When she was ready for bed, she went to say good night to her daughter. Cat and girl were sharing the pillow. “ ’Night, and thanks for supper.” She bent down and kissed Heather’s forehead. No temp.

  “You’re welcome. Can we have waffles for breakfast?”

  “You know Randy will want them too.”

  “Two days in a row, I don’t mind if you don’t. And can we leave the tree up for a few days?”

  “I guess.” Jenna paused at the doorway. “ ’Night.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom, okay?”

  “God bless.” Jenna left th
e door partially open, in case Elmer needed to go out, and returned to her own room. She picked up the monitor, started to turn it off and changed her mind. A little insurance was not a bad thing. Tomorrow Randy would be coming. Would things be the way they were in Omaha, or would it be like it used to be?

  Randy called just after three the next afternoon to say he was about an hour out and asked what he could bring for supper.

  “Nothing.” Heather had answered the phone. “We have it under control.”

  Jenna watched from the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “I am resting. On the sofa. You sound just like my mother.” She looked up at Jenna. “He wants to know if you need anything from the grocery.”

  Jenna shook her head. “I got it all. Just drive safely.”

  Heather repeated the orders and grinned at something Randy said. “Okay, bye.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Her arch smile dug at her mother.

  “Keeping secrets from your mother is not nice.”

  “Maybe not, but it sure is fun.”

  As the arrival time drew closer, Jenna reminded herself for the millionth time that this was just Randy coming. She checked her lipstick in the mirror and debated if she should change clothes—again. When the doorbell rang, she nodded to Heather to answer it. Surely, he could hear her heart beating.

  Was the hug longer than usual? Had she made a fool of herself, nearly bursting into tears? She took the shopping bags he handed her as he promised to be right back and headed for the entry door.

  “What did he bring this time?” Heather tried peeking in the bags.

  “None of your business, since I have no idea what all he brought.” She set the bags on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen to check on the lasagna she’d spent the morning putting together. The cheese was bubbling on top and the fragrance filled the room.

  “It smells heavenly,” Heather said from the doorway. “How long until we eat?”

  “Half an hour or so.”

  “I’m starving.”

  Oh, the changes. Heather starving, instead of pushing food around her plate. Jenna handed her the heel of the loaf of French bread she had heating in the oven. “Gnaw on this.”

  Randy opened the door and then paused to pick up more bags.

  “Why didn’t you say you could use some help?” Jenna crossed the room and closed the door behind him.

  “I didn’t realize how much there was, guess it grew while in the trunk.” He handed one bag to Heather and another to Jenna, who both peeked in the bags only to see wrapped packages.

  “But Christmas is over.” I don’t have anything for him.

  “This isn’t Christmas, this is New Year’s. I found some after-Christmas sales that I couldn’t resist.” He inhaled, his eyes closed in bliss. “Tell me that isn’t your lasagna that I smell?”

  “Why should I tell you that? I never lie.”

  “Really?” His right eyebrow arched in question.

  “Well”—she shushed her inner admonishing voice by pulling a tossed salad out of the refrigerator—“only when necessary.” She could feel him staring at her, making her neck heat up. Or perhaps that was from the oven. Ha, and she said she never lied. That had to include to herself. Handing him the salad bowl, she pointed to the table.

  “So how long can you stay?” Heather snatched one of the grape tomatoes off the salad.

  “Have to be back in Denver in time for an eight o’clock Monday-morning meeting.”

  “How come you make them so early?”

  “Only time they could get everyone together.”

  Jenna listened to the discussion, all the while arranging on a cut glass dish the homemade pickles their neighbor had given them. The leaf-shaped bowl had been a wedding present. One thought leaped to another, and it was as if Arlen stood beside, stealing pickles from the dish, his rear resting against the counter, his twinkling eyes daring her to warn him off. Strange, how even after all these years, he would take over her thoughts like this. While she couldn’t see the rest of his face clearly anymore, the sparkle of his eyes always came through. Perhaps that was because she saw his eyes every day in the face of their daughter. The sparkle had returned to hers since the surgery.

  Was she feeling so attracted to Randy because he bore such a strong resemblance to his older brother? Or because he was the only man in her life?

  Or because the deep friendship they’d always had was truly morphing into romantic love? She closed her eyes and let the warmth wash over her. Quit fighting and let the river carry you where it will. The inner whisper sounded an awful lot like Arlen’s voice. Would he approve? What about the rest of the family? What about Heather?

  She brushed away the thoughts and pulled the lasagna out of the oven. Setting it on a serving rack on the counter to rest, she removed the foil-wrapped bread from the other oven and set it into a napkin-lined long basket.

  “Want some help?” Randy leaned against the door frame.

  Her heart ramping up a notch or two, she handed him the basket and nodded at the pickle dish. “You and Heather sit down and I’ll bring in the lasagna.” She could smell the cheese and tomato that had dripped over the sides smoking on the oven floor, so she grabbed a turner and opened the oven to scrape up the residual. Black smoke burned her eyes.

  “You want me to call the fire department?”

  She looked up to scold him and fell into his eyes, the sparkling eyes that, no wonder, she’d never forgotten. Her breath caught in her throat and she blinked against the iridescence. Or perhaps it was the smoke. “Ah”—she cleared her throat and started again—“ah, no, that won’t be necessary.” Unless they had a method for putting out heart fires.

  When he leaned slightly forward, she took a step back and wielded her turner like a sword between them. Anything to keep him from touching her, or her him. Because if he touched her and she couldn’t control her body any better than she could her thoughts, she’d be kissing him rather than serving the lasagna.

  She sidestepped, tossed the turner in the sink and picked up two pot holders; she grabbed the handles of the rack as if it were a life ring thrown to a drowning woman. “Let’s eat.” If she didn’t know better, she’d think she had run blocks or maybe miles from the rate her heart was going.

  After a meal of laughter and lasagna, when their gazes kept colliding across the table, she ignored the table clearing at their insistence and they gathered in the living room to open the packages, the first of which was a three-layered box of Godiva chocolates.

  “I couldn’t resist,” Randy said with a shrug. The three of them studied the confections, trying to remember which ones they liked best. When his hand brushed hers, sparks ran up her arm and burst in her heart. She grabbed a heart, marbled in cream and milk chocolate, and tossed it in her mouth. Anything to distract her from the internal fireworks. With a mouthful of candy, she glanced up to see him staring at her.

  “What?” The word came out garbled by too much chocolate.

  “Nothing.” But his eyes continued the dance he’d started previously.

  “Mom. Mom!”

  She tore her gaze away to answer her daughter. “What?”

  “Your box. It’s your turn to open a box.” She raised another from her bag. “So I can open another one? Hello?”

  “Oh, sorry.” Confusion was not a comfortable state of being. She dug a flat box out of the shopping bag and glanced at Randy with a question.

  “Just open it.” Heather rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to figure it out first.”

  “But that’s part of the pleasure.”

  Heather groaned, but her grin belied the sound.

  Jenna slid a fingernail under the folded and taped end; then when Heather groaned again, she ripped the paper off a black velvet box. When she lifted the lid, an intricately wrought silver bracelet lay on midnight blue velvet. As she lifted it from the box, she realized it was a charm bracelet with three charms. She fingered the fi
rst charm, a silver heart with an H engraved on it.

  “Heather’s new heart?” At his nod, she had to swallow. The gift of life, so perfect. She held the second. The U.S. Marine symbol, with “Semper Fi” engraved on the back. “For Arlen.” She blinked back tears. The next charm was twisted behind the link, but when she held it, she smiled at him. Two letters, entwined. RN. “Because I am a nurse.”

  “I thought of doing ‘MOM,’ but maybe we’ll do that another time. I have other ideas to add to it.”

  “I’m sure you do. Randy, this is just beautiful.” She held it out for him to snap it around her wrist, including the safety chain. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  “I try.” He stared into her eyes. “I try.”

  She started to say something, then swallowed and whispered a simple “thank you.”

  “Uncle Randy, you are one devious hombre.” Heather pulled out a square box and held it up to her ear to give it a shake.

  “Now look who’s stalling.” She could feel his gaze as if he were stroking her arm. Focusing on Heather, who was alternately shaking and unwrapping the box, she glanced at the man in the recliner, his feet propped on the coffee table, nibbling on another chocolate. She would never have guessed he would do something this perfect, that would make her think of him every time the bracelet jingled.

  “An iPod. How did you know?”

  “That yours died?” At her nod, he said, with a wink at Jenna, “I guess a little bird told me. I didn’t transfer any music to it, though.”

  “I have plenty to put on it.” She pressed the on switch. “Thank you. Your turn, Mom.”

  Jenna drew out a box that looked like the one Heather had just opened. “I know, rip it.” Please, I don’t need an iPod. But within the box was another smaller one. She opened it to find another charm lying on white cotton. Jenna laughed when she lifted it out. “A cell phone.”

  “Cell phones are the perfect link between friends.” His special emphasis on “friends” made her swallow again. Maybe it was better not to look into his eyes at this point.

  “Where did you ever find such perfect things?”

  “He’s a magician.” Heather caught back a yawn.