by Sally John
“I’m not sure what that looks like.” No jumping monkeys, maybe? “Is it allowed?”
“Oh, definitely. As a matter of fact, it’s required. Rule number seventy-three.”
She smiled, and the whirligig puttered to halt.
Drake’s secretary wanted to put Susan on hold while she went looking round the church for him, but Susan declined. The toll call was on Julian’s nickel. He wouldn’t hear of her paying for it or of her standing in the rain to use the public phone down the street. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome.
Besides, she was eager to finish the business at hand. Two little monkeys…
The woman patched her to voice mail.
“Drake,” she spoke in the perkiest of tones, the one he always accepted without question. Chimp chattering to Monkey Number One. “I just wanted you to know I’m fine, honey!”
Should she mention yesterday? Maybe not. It seemed somehow unkind to let him learn of Kenzie or Pepper or the Martha Mavens via a recording. She’d save all that for later.
“I will be home for the wedding rehearsal Friday.”
The instant she said “Friday,” her stomach roiled as if someone had punched it.
She didn’t want to go home. Not yet.
But she must.
“On second thought, maybe I will just go straight to the church. I won’t need to stop at the house. Rehearsal starts at five. It’s raining here. Have a nice day.”
She disconnected the call and then dialed Pepper Carlucci’s number for the second time in her life. She already knew it by heart.
Another automatic voice message ended the ringing.
“Carluccis.” It was a man’s voice. “Pepper Sprout and Mick are unavailable. You know what to do.”
In the background a female voice protested. “Mick! Don’t say that!”
“Everybody knows what to do with an answering machine.”
“I mean don’t say ‘Pepper Sprout’! That is not my name! Start it over!”
The teasing voices faded into muffled laughter and then the machine beeped.
“Uh, Pepper. This is Susan. Kenzie’s mom. I mentioned I’m leaving the beach house on Friday? I, uh, I plan to head out around four o’clock.” The chirpy tone trickled away. “I wanted to remind you just in case Kenzie was…thinking of coming down.” She paused. So much to say.
But she didn’t have the words.
“Thank you.”
She hung up the phone and pressed a hand to her stomach. The pain was still there, but the Drake and Kenzie monkeys had hopped off her shoulders. No more monkeys jumping on the bed.
Not true. There was one more clutching at her damp coat tails.
She called Natalie’s cell number and was surprised when her busy sister-in-law answered.
“Hello?”
“Natalie, it’s me.”
“You okay?” Immediate concern.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“I didn’t recognize the number.”
“I’m at Julian’s.”
“Suze, I know the fire hydrant struck again last night.”
Susan smiled. Natalie’s reference was to an old joke about how listening to her talk could be like taking a drink from a fire hydrant. Susan was supposed to say she wasn’t even thirsty. But she wasn’t up to playing along. Maybe last night she had been thirsty.
She said, “It’s okay. Today is better than yesterday. Julian’s at my house building a fire for me.”
“Great. And you’re okay?”
“Yes, Natalie! I’m okay. I’m just checking in to tell you I am so okay I don’t need company.”
She chuckled. “Is that a hint?”
“I guess it is. I know you mean well—”
“Suze! It’s all right! You can want to be alone. Try saying that, just for practice. Say ‘I want to be alone.’”
She kneaded her forehead and sighed. “I want to be alone. Oh! That sounds so rude!”
“It’s just a little honest assertiveness. People don’t always know what you want unless you tell them. Okay then, I won’t come today. As a matter of fact, I won’t come again until you tell me to.”
She held her breath. Emmylou probably wouldn’t return to the beach, nor the elderly twins, but Gwyn and Tess were likely to check in on her again soon. “And what about the others?”
“Wow. Who is this living inside my sister-in-law?”
“You started it by bringing them in on the situation. You told them I was here.”
“This is true. Okay, I will let them know.”
“Please thank them for prayers and yesterday’s visit and say I’m much better now.”
“And you’d prefer no company.”
“You don’t have to say it so…so forthrightly.”
“I’ll use my best Susan Starr voice.” She laughed. “So what are you doing today?”
“Well, instead of just going through the motions of my normal routine, I think I’ll follow the rule book.” Susan told Natalie about the conversation with Julian and his made-up rules. “Which means I plan to sit in front of a fire with a book and walk Pugsy in the rain. He thinks he’s a duck. And I’ll eat some more chicken soup.”
“And brownies.”
“If you insist.”
“I insist. I think it’s in Julian’s rule book as well. Probably in the top ten.”
“Probably. I’d better go. I don’t want to abuse Julian’s generosity.”
“He won’t mind. I think he’s loaded. What was it he did? Designed and sold some stupendous software the entire world cannot live without?”
“Something like that, but still, I’d better go.”
“Okay. Have a good one.”
“You too. Bye.”
She hung up the phone.
No more monkeys jumping on the bed.
Twelve
Kenzie Starr adored Aidan’s mother. First off was her name. Pepper. How cool was that? The wildest thing about her name was the way she lived it out. No conversation or situation remained dull for long with her around. She spiced it up in no time. But, as Aidan pointed out, too much Pepper or pepper became an irritant. If his mom got on his nerves, he faked a sneeze. Of course he’d been doing that since the first grade, so Pepper usually called him on it. Then they would rag each other until they ended up nearly rolling on the floor in laughter.
That was another thing Kenzie adored about the woman, how she totally and openly loved Aidan, how she communicated he was the greatest son, brother, musician, whatever, that walked the face of the earth. Why weren’t all moms like her? It should come as a package deal with every pregnancy. If it’s genetic, my kid’s out of luck getting me for a mom.
Sitting now in Pepper’s eternally untidy kitchen, she watched her rummage through a catchall basket on the breakfast counter.
“What in the world did I do with my keys?”
Comparisons jumped to Kenzie’s mind. Her mother never lost a thing. If she did, she’d never admit it. She’d just search and search for it without letting anyone know she made a mistake or needed help. She was so closed up. She should have positively suffocated eons ago.
Now Pepper dug in the canvas bag that served as her purse and a tote for Mickey’s toys and snacks. Susan’s purses were small, neatly organized, and coordinated with her outfits.
“Kenzie, I really, really appreciate you coming over on your day off to take care of Mickey. If I don’t get my time away, I start to pull out my hair.”
She laughed. “I know. I’ve seen you.”
“I guess you have.”
Good or bad, Pepper’s feelings were no secret. Her laughter was contagious, and her hair pulling—she literally grabbed hunks of hair—was…well, it was real. As though negativity was an acceptable part of life, so just blow off some steam and get over it.
Pepper worked three afternoons a week at a musty bookshop that sold new and used copies of every book under the sun. She swore the place had been offering espresso ages before big chain sto
res with their chic coffee bars existed. It was a favorite of Aidan’s and Kenzie’s.
How cool was that? Not only did they like the same place she did, it was a funky place that regular fortysomething-year-olds like Susan and Drake wouldn’t be caught dead in.
Then there was Mick, Aidan’s dad, the obvious love of Pepper’s life. He was totally certifiable over her as well. At their age! And she even had love handles at her waist! And the two of them even kissed—really kissed, none of that air-kissing stuff—in front of whoever happened to be around at the time. And with their open door policy, that meant plenty of people were around day and night.
Pepper gave her a quick smile and jiggled the bag. No keys clanked. “Your mom called earlier. I didn’t talk to her, but she left a message. It’s still on the machine.”
“Oh.” After Pepper’s report on how yesterday’s meeting went with Susan, Kenzie resolved not to talk about her mom. She probably came across like a doofus, ignoring Pepper’s comment now, but it just hurt too much to go there. Despite Susan’s lame effort to communicate with Kenzie through Pepper, the bottom line was her parents had disowned her and Pepper and Mick Carlucci had taken her in.
Kenzie changed the subject. “You know I love hanging out with Mickey J. Besides, I’m glad I’m available so you don’t have to send him to that flu-infested preschool today.” She smiled. “Maybe your keys are in the van. I’ll go look.”
She found them in the ignition, of all places, and Pepper left immediately for work.
Kenzie checked on Mickey J in his bedroom and found him entranced with a construction project. He was so like his dad. Or Aidan, for that matter, except he lost himself in music. Experience told her the little guy wouldn’t need her attention until the plastic block city was completely built.
Just the sight of him often sent a wave of intense emotion through Kenzie. It was a vague thing, a mix of melancholy and joy and hope and nausea. Was she really going to have her own kid?
She returned to the kitchen and stared at the answering machine. Pepper hadn’t insisted she listen to her mom’s message. She hadn’t even told her what she said. That was another cool thing about the woman. She respected boundaries.
Actually, her mother did that too. She let Kenzie be. She let her make choices. She let her sing wild rock music and quit college and go to Europe without harassing her about her off-the-wall decisions.
But with Susan, it just looked as though she didn’t care.
Kenzie punched the answering machine button.
“Uh, Pepper. This is Susan. Kenzie’s mom. I mentioned I’m leaving the beach house on Friday? I, uh, plan to head out around four o’clock.” That fake singsong beat of hers fizzled. “I wanted to remind you just in case Kenzie was…thinking of coming down.” Another pause. “Thank you.”
“Oh, Mom,” Kenzie whispered.
Thirteen
On the freeway, through a drizzly rain, Pepper drove her full-size van like a semi driver strung out on one of those supercharged caffeine/gotu kola drinks and making up for lost time.
Mickey Junior was healthy as a rock. He had been since the day he was born. Why did Pepper act as if not sending him to preschool was her own fantastic idea? The thought not to expose him to possible flu had never even entered her mind. Nope. It was Kenzie’s remonstration that did it. She said her pregnant body was vulnerable, and if Mickey brought home germs, she would be exposed and endangered. The grandbaby’s welfare was at stake. That was the reason Pepper decided he should stay home.
Eww. She was blaming her unnecessary choice on Aidan’s girlfriend’s opinion?
Resentment crept in, stiffening her neck.
She jerked the steering wheel and swerved into the exit lane.
And leaving her keys in the van? In the ignition? In their neighborhood? Even an old family vehicle with a dented fender screamed money to someone. What was she thinking?
Probably that she’d lost her son to a young hussy whose model for wife and mother was Susan Starr, the uptight picture-perfect pastor’s partner.
Mick’s words from last night nibbled at her resentment, the ones about his mother resenting Pepper because she had stolen away her son.
Kenzie was a beautiful person. Not a hussy. She couldn’t change the character of her mother or her parents’ marriage. She could use a different model. Was erasing her heritage even a possibility, though?
Pepper skimmed along the off-ramp and merged into traffic on a business district street.
“All right, Lord. I admit she is sweet and thoughtful. She always has been. She has not changed. Help me to accept her as a daughter-in-law, even in this technically nonlegal condition. If restructuring my relationship with Aidan is what that takes…Oh, nuts.”
If?
If she didn’t, their relationship would resemble her own mother-in-law’s with her son. Not a pretty sight.
“Okay, okay. I get it!”
She cruised into a parking lot, turned into the first vacant space she came to, slammed on the brakes, and shoved the gearshift into park—all prayed up and outside the shop with two minutes to spare.
Now if only her heart would slow down.
Fourteen
At the beach on Thursday, the sun shone from a cloudless sky. Azure blue.
No monkeys jumped on the bed or weighted down Susan’s shoulders. The previous day’s cozy fire, Helen MacInnes thriller, and chicken soup had worked wonders. Chocolate brownies had cinched the effect.
Chocolate, Susan? Drake’s voice. A novel? A cozy fire? It’s God who works wonders, not secular, material things.
She shrugged off his opinion and went through the motions of her everyday routine. Shower, two soft-boiled eggs, lightly buttered toast, tea, the one-word prayer and fruitless wait, walk the dog.
She and Pugsy headed north at a fast clip that took them beyond the pier, farther than they had yet explored. The scent of roasted coffee beans saturated the crisp air. She slowed at Kono’s kiosk alongside the boardwalk, a place which she vaguely remembered sold a nice variety of herbal teas.
Why don’t you drink coffee anymore? Now Natalie’s voice spoke in her thoughts.
In the past, Susan enjoyed coffee. She drank it with milk and sugar, just like her grandmother had. About five years ago, after a visit to the doctor, Drake announced that his bouts with trembling fingers and acid stomach were the effects of caffeine. He didn’t want to see or smell coffee in the house.
In support, she gave it up as well. After all, if she were forced to abstain, would she want to watch him drink it or smell its rich scent?
She fingered the ten-dollar bill and loose change she always carried in the pocket of her light jacket on Pugsy walks. One never knew…
“May I help you?”
She started, surprised to find herself under the green canopy in front of the counter. “I…I would like…” she exhaled the c-word, “coffee.”
“What kind?” The young woman reminded her of Kenzie. Too thin, too much black clothing, too much tummy showing, too many ear piercings. And a genuine smile that lit up her face and warmed Susan down to her toes.
She scanned the chalkboard’s long list of types and flavors and sizes. “Just regular. Whatever the special is.”
“French roast okay?”
“Fine.” She eyed the goodies displayed inside a large case.
“What size?”
“Big. The biggest.” She smiled. “And one of those apple muffins.”
“Coming right up, ma’am.”
The motions of everyday routine disintegrated.
Fifteen
Pepper leafed through a cookbook at her kitchen counter in search of a recipe for gnocchi. The recent talk about her mother-in-law produced a craving for one of her old dishes. Not that Bella Carlucci had ever shared an original recipe with her. Nope, she carried those things with her to her grave. Her daughter-in-law, that hussy who stole her son, would never know the correct way to prepare gnocchi.
The door
leading to the attached garage opened, and a laundry basket entered, followed by Kenzie.
Speaking of hussies for in-laws.
Kenzie set the basket on the floor beside the kitchen table. She was laundering her and Aidan’s things in Pepper’s washer and dryer, located in the garage. Although the girl had been at the house less than twenty-four hours ago to babysit Mickey Junior, she hadn’t brought laundry with her. Evidently none needed to be done yesterday. Pepper thought herself casual, but the young couple carried the adjective to stratosphere level.
“Pepper, are you sure you don’t mind me doing our laundry here?”
“Nope.” She turned a page in the cookbook.
“Aidan said it was fine.”
She looked up again. The girl was folding her second load of the morning, the third was in the dryer, and still she wanted reassurance of her welcome. “Kenzie, you’ve been around long enough to know how it is in this house. Mi casa es su casa.”
“Yeah, but that was before Aidan and I were living together.”
Pepper’s automatic response died in her throat. She couldn’t quite get out, So why should that change things? Their living together, their pregnancy, had indeed changed things. Despite Pepper’s brave words to accept Kenzie as a semi-daughter-in-law and accept the change in her own relationship with Aidan, and despite the fact that she prayed daily along those lines, discomfort crept in. Mick had nailed it, of course. She resented Kenzie for stealing away her son, for dumping on him the burden of raising a child before he was married.
Kenzie’s comment hung in the air between them. The girl turned her attention to folding towels at the table.
Pepper went back to her cookbook, but the print wavered as if she swam undersea. She gazed at Kenzie through her eyelashes. Slight of build like her mother, the girl-woman resembled a fragile urchin who craved love and acceptance and a place to belong.
I think the question is, does Jesus welcome us with open arms? With our faults? Did He die on the cross for us because we did everything right?