by Sally John
But she didn’t like this distance between them either. She began again, “If you’ll come too, tomorrow after church, or Monday, we can—”
“I told you I can’t come. I have two full weeks until my scheduled vacation time. It’s Easter season. If you can’t rest at home and come to grips with this, then go.” He spun on his heel and strode from the office.
She spun on her own heel and marched down the hall, pulling bobby pins from her hair and letting it fall to her shoulders.
He really was an infuriating man. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed before.
Twenty-Four
They were on page 115.
Pepper hunched back against a pillow, rubbed lotion into her hands, and didn’t even pretend to read. “Mick.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s Saturday night and Kenzie’s not back yet from Phoenix.”
“Tell me you didn’t call him.”
“Well.” Of course she had called Aidan. “I seem to be assuming this role of meddling mother-in-law faster than a speeding bullet.”
“I noticed. He didn’t hang up on you?”
“No, but I didn’t learn anything more from him, either. I should have listened to your mother. I probably could have learned a lot.”
He ignored that. “Aidan told you yesterday that there was no schedule for Kenzie’s return. It’s typical of them. I have no clue how they ever get to a performance on time.”
“What if they’re fighting?”
“It’s none of our business.”
“What if she doesn’t come back?”
“It’s none of our business.”
Pepper bolted upright. “Of course it’s our business! That’s our grandchild she’s carrying across the country!”
“Six hours is hardly across the country.”
“Young married people don’t take separate vacations! They love being together all the time. They can’t get enough of each other.”
“This is a different generation.”
“Not to mention they’re not even married. Is there honestly any commitment between them? How could we tell? It doesn’t exactly show with her taking off and probably losing her job and him getting all quiet and working extra.”
Mick shut the book on a finger and looked at her. “We knew this was going to be a long rough haul for them. Aidan has professed his love and commitment. Kenzie is obviously nuts about him. Do you think we can fix it for them? Pressure them into marriage? Guarantee that they’ll live happily ever after if only they look and act just like us? Or her parents?”
She stuck out her lower lip.
“Mm-hmm. Exactly,” he said. “Pepper Sprout, this isn’t like you to get so unnerved. Why can’t you let it go?”
“Because this is about me being a grandma.”
“So it’s all about you.”
“Yeah.”
He smiled and opened the book again. “Bingo.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled. “Read with me. Give your mind a rest.”
The phone rang beside her on the nightstand. Although the clock read ten twenty, she wasn’t surprised. Family and friends called all hours. She picked it up. “Hello.”
“Pepper? This is Susan Starr.”
Now that surprised her. “Hi, Susan.”
“I am so sorry to call this late, but I just wanted you to know I’m back at the beach house for a while. By myself.”
“Okay.” That message of course was for her daughter. “Um, Kenzie’s in Phoenix. At Dakota’s.”
“Geez Louise.” She exhaled loudly and then began humming. It sounded like a hymn. “Well, will you just tell her when you see her? Please?”
“Sure.”
“You’re welcome to stop by again. Better yet, come run away with me.” She giggled. “I really enjoyed our visit. Bring Mickey Junior. I’ll bake monster cookies for him. They’re Kenzie’s favorite, so will you tell her that too? Oh, and I have ingredients for fettucine alfredo with chicken. That’s her favorite. Actually I’m at the Ralphs in Pacific Beach and my grocery cart is overflowing with her favorites. I’m thinking maybe I can win her over through her taste buds. And will you tell her I want to give her some money? I’m sure they could use it. Oh my goodness, I’m keeping you. I’ll let you go. Thanks, Pepper.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For joining me in the boat.”
She laughed. “Bye.”
“Bye.” Pepper hung up the phone. “Oh, man!”
Mick said, “Kenzie’s mom?”
“I think! Or someone impersonating her. No, on second thought it was her for sure. She started humming a hymn.”
“Like the other day?”
“Yes. I think this one was ‘Great Is Thy Faithfulness.’” She touched his arm. “Mick! Maybe she’s not so bad after all. After the last two conversations, I would swear she wants to shower Kenzie with a hands-on love. She even referred to ‘they,’ to Kenzie and Aidan.”
He smiled. “Feel better knowing you’ve got a shipmate?”
“Yes, I do.” She nodded. “Amen.”
Twenty-Five
“Kenz.” Aidan set down his tea mug. “Do you want to hear the latest?”
Kenzie smiled. “I love you.”
He grinned. “Why?”
“That shorthand talk. I know exactly what you’re referring to.”
“Of course you do.” He reached across the table between lunch remains and squeezed her hand.
They sat in the apartment’s kitchenette, large enough to hold two chairs and the small table pushed against the wall. The dining set was fifties retro, made of metal. Thin orange vinyl padded the seats and backs. Kenzie loved his Salvation Army decor.
Actually she loved everything about him. Which explained why she was back already from Phoenix. She missed him so much she convinced Jenae, her friend with the car, that if they didn’t leave in time to reach San Diego by dawn she’d hitchhike. Jenae and Dakota were angry at her for cutting the visit short. It couldn’t be helped.
And it didn’t really matter, not with Aidan looking at her in that way of his, with those eyes the color of lapis lazuli nearly hidden behind black, black lashes, curly and thick.
“Kenz,” he said again.
No one had ever nicknamed her that. It was part of their private shorthand.
Of course, his voice added its own effect. Her skin tingled at the sound. It didn’t matter what he said. She’d fallen in love with his voice long before they met. She was fifteen and heard him sing at a concert. Low and sort of raspy with an unbelievable range, it wrapped itself around musical notes.
Years later he heard her sing. And the rest was history.
He said, “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“It’s okay. What’d my mother do now?”
“Let’s start with my mother. Achoo.”
Kenzie laughed at his pretend sneeze.
“She called after I got home last night.”
“After you got home?” The band had played in a club; Aidan didn’t get home until after three.
“At least she wasn’t on the doorstep waiting for me.” He shook his head. “Anyway, she was too excited to sleep. Your mom called her last night from the grocery store in PB and said she had a cartful of your favorite food.”
“This is getting weird.”
“Yeah. She said she’s back at the beach house—alone—and hopes you’ll come. She invited my mom and Mickey too. She also said she wants to give you some money. Sounds to me like she’s trying to buy your affection with food and cash.”
Kenzie didn’t reply. She wasn’t so sure. Aidan’s folks were always giving them food and cash. Not much—she suspected they didn’t have all that much to spare—but some. He said those were gifts of love, no strings attached.
“Maybe they’re peace offerings.”
He squeezed her hand. “Maybe. It gets weirder. On Friday my mom went to see your mom at the beach.
”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. Mom saw a huge change in your mom. I laughed and said she’d known her for five whole days. She insisted it’s true.”
“How has she changed?”
“Mom said she is totally not uptight.”
“No way.”
“That’s what I said and she said they drank coffee together and ate ice cream cones. In the middle of the day. Coffee, Kenz.”
“My mom would never—I can’t believe it! But I have to because your mom wouldn’t make it up. This is totally bizarre.”
“Let’s face it. We’ve thrown them for a loop. Mom says they’re on a boat together. She calls it the Grandmas out of Wedlock Boat.”
“They’ve got a little club going? Off the charts bizarre.”
“I know. So anyway, that’s the message from your mom to my mom to me to you. If it’s like the telephone game, we’d better disregard the whole thing.”
“Aidan, I want to go see her.”
He stared at her.
“I don’t know where that came from, but I think I really do.”
“Kenz, don’t let them guilt you into this.”
She shrugged. “She’s my mom.”
“You’re always a basket case after being with her. Four months away in Europe was the best thing for you.” He paused. “For us.”
“She’s my mom.”
“You’ll come home a basket case.”
“Probably.”
“Not probably. For sure.”
“Okay, for sure. Will you still love me?”
He picked up her hand and kissed the palm. “Yes, I will still love you.”
But what if he didn’t? What if he got tired of putting up with her? She was usually a basket case over something. Just ask her parents. And look what they did to her.
What she truly wanted was her mommy.
But…had that person ever even existed?
Twenty-Six
Susan bent over in front of Faith Fontaine’s ancient oven and pulled out a baking sheet of fresh hot cookies, humming as she worked.
Hymns flowed in her mind, one after another like the waves rolling toward shore. “All Creatures of Our God and King.” “O Worship the King.” “How Great Thou Art.” One…after…another. Verse upon verse. Crescendo upon crescendo.
Chasing away the guilt.
There were so many reasons for the guilt, not the least of which was how she’d spent that morning. She’d dawdled it away—the entire morning, the entire Sunday morning when she should have been in a church—with a long stroll with Pugsy, coffee at Kono’s, and more than an hour’s observation of an artist at work on the boardwalk. The woman painted the pier as the early sun stroked it, capturing all the fresh pink and yellow brilliance in water colors. Susan felt swept away in beauty and wanted to buy it.
Instead she returned to the beach house and mixed up a batch of cookies. They baked now, a slow process with only one cookie sheet and the old unreliable oven. The rhythm of kitchen work and the luscious scents of baking cinnamon and sugar and chocolate whittled at her doubts. Eventually the apologies to God and the defensive conversations with Drake faded from her mind. The music gained ground and she hummed more loudly.
She blamed her broken heart for such uncharacteristic behavior. Leaving home? Leaving home angry at Drake and he at her? Staying away from home? Unbelievable conduct from the pastor’s wife.
But the pain of the broken heart burned like a hot fire under her, forcing her to see things differently, to react to a new set of priorities. She was in a battle for reconciliation with Kenzie. It could not be fought hiding at home, carrying on as if nothing had happened, hoping their daughter would forget she was an outcast and come back with marriage plans. Or better yet, with a marriage license.
Yes, setting up camp at the beach house was outlandish, foolish behavior. In the heat of that fire, though, she intuited that the house was neutral territory, the only way to make herself available to her daughter.
Other than staying there, she didn’t know what else to do except bake cookies and pray. She was up to an eight-word prayer: Lord, please fix my relationship with Kenzie. Please.
Maybe it was only seven words since “please” entered in twice.
There was a knock at the door.
Pugsy barked and jumped up from the braided rug in front of the fireplace. Before Susan removed the hot pad mitten from her hand, he skittered across the room. Yapping for all he was worth, he spun in circles in front of the door.
He knew.
And then Susan knew.
Kenzie stood on the other side of the screen door, a tentative smile on her face. “I heard there were monster cookies here.”
And then she was in Susan’s arms.
Susan clung to her daughter, feeling eternity begin and end in that moment.
“Shh, Pugs!” Kenzie said, her voice muffled against Susan’s shoulder. “You’ll get your turn.”
The dog obeyed and resorted to whining and pushing his little body against their ankles.
Susan became aware of a round bump between her and Kenzie and blinked back tears. “Oh, my. Let me look at you.” Unable to completely let go of her, she grasped Kenzie’s arms and saw the big red plaid flannel shirt she wore. It was a maternity top! She smiled. “Oh, my.”
Grinning, Kenzie patted her abdomen. “Yeah, there he is. Or she. We don’t know which.”
“Oh, my.”
“Mom, your vocabulary is shot all to pieces.”
She laughed. “Have you felt him move yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You will soon. I remember a little fluttery sensation.”
“Like there’s a butterfly coming and going, a faint, tickly feeling?”
“That’s it.”
“Really? I thought it was my imagination. Or something I ate.” She sank to the floor to Pugsy, releasing Susan’s hold on her. “Okay! Okay! You silly dog.”
He went wild again as Kenzie nuzzled him.
An immediate sense of emptiness engulfed Susan, the same emotion she’d lived and moved in for three months. She looked down at Kenzie’s stiff spiky hair that moved with her head like a cap. Dangly silver earrings bounced, at least one pair per ear. The upturned nose was buried in Pugsy’s furry neck.
No. She refused to let her daughter go again. She would not give in to the emptiness.
Susan pulled her skirt out of the way and knelt on the floor beside Kenzie.
“Mom.” She sniffed. “The cookies are burning!”
“It’s okay. I have plenty.”
“Mom!” Kenzie popped up and scurried to the oven, Pugsy at her heels. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had monster cookies? I could eat dozens.” She busied herself in the kitchen. “I think they’re okay. Where’s the spatula? Oh, here it is.”
Susan sighed quietly but didn’t budge.
“Do you want me to put more in to bake?”
“I want you to come back here for a minute.”
“Just a sec.” She spooned batter onto the cookie sheet.
Susan realized a subtle shift in roles. Kenzie, the in-your-face imp, was avoiding her mother. Susan, the avoid-conflict-at-all-costs shrinking violet, felt like a bird-of-paradise breaking through solid concrete. She rearranged her skirt, sat cross-legged on the carpet, and waited.
At last, a new sheet of cookies in the oven and a handful of warm ones in her hand, Kenzie turned. “Is there some milk?”
Susan nodded.
She opened the fridge. “All right! Two percent. You’re spoiling me.”
“No, I’m not.”
Kenzie turned, surprise in her raised brows.
“I’m just trying to love you. Please, sweetheart, come sit down.”
Kenzie replaced the milk, set the cookies on the counter, and walked over. “What?” She sat on the floor.
“I am so sorry for sending you away.”
“I know. I’m sorry for being such a
pain—”
Susan held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being a better mom these nineteen years. Please forgive me. I hope you can forgive me, for your own sake.”
Kenzie stared at her.
Of course she was speechless. She had never heard such words from her mother.
“Hon, you don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. And…here.” She dug into her skirt pocket, pulled out a folded pack of bills, and handed it to Kenzie. “Five hundred dollars. It’s not much, but maybe you can use it. We were always short on money when we were first—” Married. Back up. “When you were a baby.”
“Mom! Are you on something?”
Faith. Freedom. Courage. Drake not screening…She shook her head. “Music.”
“Huh?”
“I’m just,” she pointed to her head, “singing.”
“This place needs a CD player. At least a radio. I can’t believe there’s still no television here.”
“It is electronically challenged, I’ll give you that.”
Kenzie stared again. “Um, thank you for this.” She held up the money.
“You’re welcome.”
“We might have an extra CD player around.”
“Does it play cassette tapes? I really want to listen to your music.”
“That reminds me, we’re making a CD! Professionally!”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty awesome.” She still held the bills in her hand, as if unsure what to do with them. “It won’t happen for a while, but there’s this producer who’s totally interested. He loves Aidan’s work. What are you smiling at?”
“Just you.” She grinned. She could not take her eyes off her child. No one else would notice the subtle roundness in her face, a soft but mature touch. “By the way, you can keep the money. No strings attached.”
“Well.” Kenzie looked down at it. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
“Honey.” She put a finger under Kenzie’s chin and lifted it. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Now, how about some milk and cookies?”