Those eyes.
My open journal on my lap, I wondered what Jeremy would think of me now, lost in the past where he hated to go, endlessly analyzing it so I could figure out how to not care anymore.
Chapter Seven
My sister and her family are here,” is what I ended up saying to Jeremy’s mom that day of our first visit.
Mrs. London nodded as though it made perfect sense. I began to like her a little bit. Upon first impression, her abrupt way of speaking had seemed rude, but gradually I saw it was simply her way. She was a no-nonsense, get to the point type of woman. I still couldn’t tell if she approved of me or not.
“Jeremy and me, we are Mormons,” Mrs. London had told me then. I must have looked surprised, because she laughed shortly and said, “Bet you didn’t know that, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
I glanced at my boyfriend, polishing off the last drops of his beer. He had never mentioned being Mormon or part of any religion. He liked everything that Mormons said no to– alcohol, coffee, premarital sex.
“Yeah, Jeremy and me, we go way back in the church history. My great-great grandfather crossed the plains in a handcart. He was part of the Willie Handcart Company,” she said with some pride in her voice.
“Mom,” Jeremy added. “None of that stuff matters any more. It’s ancient history. Why do you always bring it up anyway? Nobody cares.”
“Did you ever hear of the Willie Handcart Company?” she asked me, ignoring her son.
Now she was addressing me and ignoring him. I must be rising in her esteem, I thought. I admitted that I had not heard of the handcart company. “I did tour the Temple Square with my sister when I moved out here but I don’t remember that part of it.”
She crushed her cigarette and finished her beer. “I always heard the story growing up, from the grandparents on Mom’s side. They were real good LDS, strict in the church, temple-workers and everything. My grandpa was a stake president.”
“Here we go,” Jeremy muttered. He fidgeted and ran his hands through his hair.
“They used to take me to church with them when I was little. My mom, their daughter, got disaffected at some point—I think it was before she married my dad—and my parents never went to church. They had no use for it. Couldn’t stand it, in fact.”
I perked up at this family history. Finally I was getting some background on Jeremy’s family.
Mrs. London continued, “My great-great grandfather, the one who crossed the plains pulling a handcart, his wife died in childbirth, leaving him with three small children to raise. He had to leave her and the newborn baby out there in Wyoming along the trail. He dug the grave. He tucked the baby in his wife’s arms and buried them like that.”
“Oh, how sad,” I murmured, imagining the tragic scene.
“Isn’t it though? Poor folk. When he got to Salt Lake, he married a girl who had just emigrated from Sweden and had no family. That way it worked out for both of them. The Swedish wife took care of those three little ones like they were her own, and then they went ahead and had eight more besides.”
Jeremy pounded out a tune with the palms of his hands against his thighs.
“The third from the youngest was my great-grandmother.” His mom ended her story abruptly, lighting another cigarette as she did.
Jeremy crushed his beer can and set it on the side table. “Okay, Mom, now Karoline knows our grand family history.” He put his arm around me and gave me an affectionate squeeze. “Babe, we should probably go.” He edged forward on the couch.
I made a move to stand but didn’t want to offend Mrs. London by seeming in a rush. “It’s been nice to meet you, Mrs. London,” I said, as a precursor to our departure, “and to learn more about Jeremy’s background. I’m impressed that you know stories from back that far. I don’t know anything like that about my ancestors.”
“It’s the way of the LDS. Genealogy and all that.”
Jeremy stood. “Yeah, Mom, like you’re such an expert. When was the last time you set foot inside a church? When you were baptized at the age of eight?”
She glared at him. “No, son, it was when you were baptized at the age of eight. My grandma made sure I got baptized, and I made sure you were. You can thank me for it later.”
Jeremy made a huffing sound. “I’ll never thank you for that. I want nothing to do with the church. It’s a bunch of lies.”
I hadn’t been to church since leaving home and I was glad to be free of the obligation I’d felt growing up as a pastor’s daughter; but still, I would never have spoken disrespectfully to my parents about the religious beliefs they held dear.
I squeezed his hand. “Jeremy,” I told him in a quiet voice. “If it means something to your mom, you should respect that.”
“Screw it,” he said. “Look at her. She’s no more a Mormon than you or I am.” He grabbed his brown leather jacket from the couch and pulled it on. “Come on. Let’s go.”
At the door, I turned back to smile and wave goodbye to Mrs. London, but she didn’t notice my gesture. She had picked up the remote and was turning the channel to a game show, her eyes focused on the TV screen. She petted Fluffy, gave him a chocolate-covered cherry, took one herself and ignored us when we let ourselves out. Our visit had officially ended.
Jeremy kept hold of my hand as we rushed out to the car. Opening the passenger door for me, he said, “You did well, Karoline. I can tell she likes you. Sorry about the mess though. She never used to be like that.”
“Really?”
I slid into the seat, more curious than ever about Jeremy’s background. Once he settled himself behind the wheel, I ventured to ask a few questions, hoping he would be more forthcoming now that I had met his mom and seen her house. I saw no reason why he should be secretive about it any longer.
“What was she like when you were growing up?” I asked him, buckling my seat belt.
“Hey, let’s grab a bite to eat,” he suggested as though avoiding the question. “There’s an IHOP nearby, you up for pancakes?”
Jeremy loved pancakes and high carb meals, probably since he burned energy so fast. He skipped meals when working, but when he did stop to eat he liked calorie-rich dishes.
“Sure, or maybe I’ll have one of their sandwiches.”
It was early evening, dinner time, and a sandwich sounded good. I’d taken leftovers in Tupperware to work for lunch. Not my favorite but someone had to eat them. Jeremy never touched leftovers.
“Are you going to tell me about your mom, what she was like before?” I repeated as we backed out of the drive.
Jeremy relaxed as he got farther from her street and the Rose Park neighborhood where he had grown up. Finally, he seemed ready to talk.
“She was really pretty. I thought she was the prettiest mom in the world. I know probably every kid thinks that about his mother, but I’d see other moms come to school and there’d be no comparison. She had this long, thick hair she pulled back with a headband. It was dark blond, light brown, whatever you call it. Her eyes were large and wide, and they got all crinkly when she smiled. They were the bluest eyes I ever saw, clear blue like a cloudless sky.
“Mom never gained weight until later, maybe when I got in high school. When I was little, she was small and active and always willing to play ball with me or take me to the park, to play outside in the yard. She taught me how to ride a bike. Once or twice we went fishing up at Spring Lake.”
As I began to picture his childhood, he went silent. I wanted to know more. “When did your dad die?”
“When I was young. A baby. I don’t remember him. It was always just mom and me, and she tried really hard to take care of everything, not like now. Back then she kept things nice. She felt bad I didn’t have a dad to take me hunting and fishing and all that shit.” He shook his head in disgust. Jeremy didn’t like the idea of killing animals for sport.
Utah has mountain ranges everywhere and is an outdoorsy, active state. Practically every kid is raised
to go camping in the mountains and fishing in the plentiful streams and lakes. Opening day of deer season is the biggest event of the year. Deer, elk, moose, and all kinds of game are plentiful in the mountains, with a season for each one. I wondered if Jeremy would feel the same way about hunting if his dad had been around to take him up to the canyons.
“Did your dad like to hunt?” I persisted.
“I think so. I have no idea. Like I said, I never knew him.”
“Didn’t your mom and you talk about him?”
“Naw, not really. Although she tried to keep his memory alive. She would show me pictures of us together, but what’s the point? It’s past history. You can tell from how she talked today that she likes to live in the past. I don’t. Life’s too short to spend it looking backwards.”
Jeremy pulled into the restaurant parking lot. He shut off the ignition and gave me the look that melted my heart. “Karoline, you are my present. You are my family. It’s you and me I care about, not a bunch of dead ancestors.”
“But you love your mom, right?” I persisted, wondering why he rarely spoke of her and had seemed reluctant to visit.
“Of course I do. She’s my mom. Only I hate that she’s let herself go like this, and it’s hard for me to see how she has given up, like she has nothing to live for but her goddamn TV shows. It’s a waste. She’s an intelligent woman, not even sixty yet, and she sits there like she’s waiting to die.”
He stared out the window past me, like he saw things that bothered him.
“I’m glad you took me to see her,” I said tenderly. “I’m sorry if it brought back a lot of heartache and disappointment.”
“Not a lot,” he replied lightly, caressing my cheek and leaning in to kiss me. “I’d do anything for you, Karoline. You know that, right?”
As always, Jeremy left me breathless. His kiss, his touch, his voice. I was consumed by the presence and feel of him.
“I know, Jeremy.”
My fingers pulled through his long smooth hair. His skin was hot, his breath warm and sweet against my neck. “It meant a lot that you were willing to share that part of your life with me.”
“It’s what you wanted. Sorry I was such a prick about it before. I don’t know, sometimes it’s hard to face. And I didn’t want you to think she was awful.”
“She’s your mom! I would never think she’s awful. After all, she raised you, and I love you.”
He leaned into me again, stroking my side and gently exploring with his fingertips.
I giggled. “Seriously, Jeremy, we need to stop. You’re getting me turned on.”
He whispered into my ear. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Not here in the IHOP parking lot. I thought you wanted pancakes.”
“I want you, my beautiful Karoline, always you.” He kissed the nape of my neck and made a soft moaning sound, his hands moving under my sweater, sliding up and down my back.
“Okay, listen, Jeremy.” I pushed him away and made eye contact to make him pay attention. “I wanted to meet your mom and you complied. You’ve been asking to take the next step in our relationship and move in, and I know I’ve been hesitant. My parents are super strict about morals and sex before marriage and well, you know Suz is, too, being a Mormon. Bottom line, I was worried about what my family would think if we lived together.”
He gazed back at me with those soft brown eyes. His finger traced my lower lip as I talked. I let out another giggle and pushed his hand away. “I’m trying to say something here. Stop being so freakin’ hot right now.”
“You’re right,” he said, grinning. “I have got to stop that. Especially when you are being so serious and cute and pretty damn hot yourself.”
“Just let me get this out and we’ll go eat dinner.”
“Okay, I’ll be good.” He put his hands in his lap and gave me a wide-eyed innocent expression.
“Thank you. Now, here’s the thing. I needed to know more about your family before you moved in. And you have complied. I won’t press you further since I can tell it makes you uncomfortable. You took me to meet your mom and that means everything. So. Jeremy. Move in with me!”
I ended with a flourish and opened my arms to him.
He whooped and we embraced, enjoying a make-out session appropriate for a restaurant parking lot. Afterward, we went into IHOP to celebrate our new status as a serious, living-together couple by having a full-out pancake binge.
Homemade Chocolate-covered Cherries
(For people, not dogs.)
Makes 48 candy pieces
1 14-ounce bag of chocolate candy wafers—you can use milk or dark chocolate
2 12-ounce jars Maraschino cherries, drained, stem removed
1 cup basic fondant (recipe follows)
Add 1 to 2 teaspoons of Maraschino cherry juice to basic fondant and stir well. Fondant should be a medium consistency and slowly drip off the spoon. If it’s too thick, continue to add cherry juice until it becomes the consistency you prefer.
Pour chocolate candy wafers into the upper portion of the double-boiler pan; melt over medium-low heat; and gently stir until wafers are melted.
Using a teaspoon, fill each candy mold half-way with melted chocolate. Using a medium artist brush, paint the sides of each mold with the chocolate; making certain the inside of each candy mold is coated all the way to the top.
Place one Maraschino cherry in each mold. Add approximately ¼ teaspoon of fondant to each cherry.
Pour approximately ¼ teaspoon melted chocolate over the top of each cherry and using the bottom of the spoon, gently spread chocolate over the top to ensure that there is a seal over each candy mold.
Place cherries in the freezer for about 10 minutes.
Line a cookie sheet with wax paper. Remove cherries from the freezer and flip molds upside down on top of the wax paper. If the candy does not easily release from the molds, flex the molds a bit until the candy pops out.
Place each chocolate covered cherry into a paper candy cup or wrap individually in foil, and place into a gift box or airtight container.
Chocolate covered cherries should be stored at room temperature to retain the liquid center. If you refrigerate or freeze them, allow them to return to room temperature before eating them.
Basic Fondant Recipe
Makes 2 cups
2 cups granulated Sugar
⅛ teaspoon Cream of Tartar
1½ cups boiling water
Butter the sides of a 1½ quart saucepan. Combine all ingredients and stir over medium heat until sugar dissolves and mixture comes to a boil. Allow mixture to cook, without stirring, to a soft ball stage of 238º F. You’ll need a candy thermometer in order to gauge the temperature of the candy.
Pour the fondant onto a cookie sheet with sides. Do not scrape remaining fondant from sides of pan, as this could result in crystals forming in the fondant. With a rubber spatula or wooden spoon, scrape the fondant mixture from the edge of the cookie sheet toward the center. Spread the fondant evenly and let sit for 15 to 20 minutes.
When the fondant becomes stiff and turns white; pull it off the cookie sheet and knead it like bread dough, until it is free of lumps. Wrap the fondant in plastic wrap and place in a covered container for 24 to 48 hours.
Chapter Eight
I sat in Suzie’s basement salon, bemoaning my fate while she cut my hair.
“What am I going to do, Suz? Unemployment is boring me out of my skull and I have found nothing. Seriously, nothing!”
I disliked furthering my dependence on Rob and Suzie by working at Rob’s office but I was afraid I might have to. I craved work, I lived for work. Sitting at home without a job to go to was killing me.
“Oh, gosh, I know. That’s got to be really hard.” She massaged my scalp with her long fingernails. Damn that felt good. “Honey, why not talk to Rob? You don’t have to go through this. He would put you to work in no time. Seriously, Karoline, you’re being silly. I’ll say something to him tonight when he gets in.�
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“No, Suz. I’m not one of your kids. I’m a grown woman who happens to be going through a rough spot right now. Don’t say anything to Rob, I mean it. Give me some time. I’ll get a job.”
If I did have to break down and work for my brother-in-law, I’d do it on my own terms as an adult filling out an application, not as the kid sister of the rich doctor’s wife.
Suzie paused in her fluffing and finger-styling of my hair and frowned at me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to tell Rob? What’s the big deal, whether you work for him or someone else?”
“It’s the principle of the thing, I guess. Don’t be mad at me. I’m trying to be adult about the situation.”
“I know you are, sweetie, and of course I’m not mad. Only I don’t want you to have to go through difficulties if you don’t need to, that’s all.”
“And it’s not like I’ve been goofing off either.” I felt some inexplicable inner need to defend myself. Suzie never criticized me, at least not in so many words.
“Of course not! You’re a hard worker, you always have been. Remember when we were kids, and I’d run off to play while you stayed and helped mom with the dishes?”
“That’s me, Miss Responsible Second Daughter. Now I feel like a wreck.”
“Why?” Suzie asked, suddenly serious. “Is it because of the job thing? Or the divorce?”
“The divorce is part of it, I guess. Why did I stay with him that long, Suz? What made me turn into jelly around that guy?”
I stared into the mirror, seeing a morose-looking plain face. A woman is at her least attractive in the hairdresser’s chair, wearing that plastic cover-all, hair pulled back, skin pallid under the florescent lighting.
Suzie frowned as she fluffed up my brown hair with her hands. She had magic fingers when it came to hair. She rarely used a comb or brush or pick. Her technique was all in how she maneuvered her long slender fingers.
Lighting Candles in the Snow Page 6