Life on the Porcelain Edge

by C. E. Hilbert

  Emma galloped toward Joe’s chair and launched herself on his back.

  “Great.” Lunch with gooey JT and gushing Tessa. The cheeseburger would likely fight against the rising bile in his throat. But, he’d walk over hot coals or fight a Russian dictator for his baby girl. Gagging down a meal while he watched his life-long love lavish her affection on his best friend was only one of the many sacrifices he was willing to make for Emma.

  Dropping the basket of chicken fingers on the table, Ryland snatched a napkin from the holder and lifted Emma with one arm from Joe’s lap, setting her on an empty chair to his left.

  “Aww, I guess I don’t get to eat lunch with my best gal.” Joe said with a tweak of Emma’s nose.

  “Buts I’m right here Uncle Joey. I didn’t goes nowhere.” She snagged a chicken finger and chomped the end with her molars.

  “Emma…” Ryland said sliding onto the seat beside her.

  “Oh, sorry, Daddy.” She dropped her chicken on the table and clasped her hands together. Her face scrunched tight. “God, please bless this food. Bless our talkings. Bless my daddy. Bless my Uncle Joey. Bless G-ma, Grammy and Poppy. And bless Miss Tessa, cause she seems real nice. And PS, could you tell momma I miss her wider than the sky and deeper than the ocean? Amen.” Swiping her loose bangs from her forehead, she reached for her chicken and resumed her gator chomp.

  “That was a lovely prayer, Miss Emma.” Tessa’s voice held the tinge of a tear.

  “Thanks. Sometimes, I forgets to pray. But Daddy says it’s super importants to remember to thanks God for all our stuff. Helps us to remembers how much He does for us.”

  The burger in Ryland’s hands melted. Pickles slopped into the basket, ketchup and mustard dripped down his fingers. He resisted the tug of Tessa’s watchful eyes. He was so unabashedly proud of the tender steps of faith his daughter was taking, but he didn’t want others—particularly Tessa—to think Emma was performing, or merely a parrot spouting out the words her father taught her.

  “My daddy taught me the same thing, but I must admit I’m a bit derelict in that particular discipline.” Tessa smiled.

  After dunking a chicken tender in honey sauce, Emma chomped half the length in a single bite. “What’s dare-licked mean?” She mumbled, sauce oozing down her chin.

  “Smaller bites.” Ryland said, dropping his burger in the basket. Tearing open the foil packet of a moist towelette, the aroma of ammonia burned his nostrils countering the feel of the cool, damp cloth in his fingers. He tugged Emma’s chin to him and swiped at the sticky honey residue. With a lowered voice, he locked his eyes with hers. “We don’t talk with full mouths.”

  “Buts I just wants to know what the word means. You said know-wedge is super importants.” She matched his whispered tone, her eyes stretched wide with emphasis.

  “Yes, I did.” He kissed her forehead. “Derelict means neglected or to ignore something to the point of forgetting.”

  “So are you dare-licked about having a wife?”

  The power of Joe’s snort shot Ryland’s gaze to the table anticipating a soda stream from his friend’s nose. Lifting a single eyebrow, he shifted his focus to Joe, and tried to ignore the sudden rise of heat blanketing his cheeks.

  “Dude, your kid’s got you pegged.” Joe rocked in his chair, balancing on the back legs.

  “I don’t think that’s fair.” Tessa’s brows pulled to a V over her forehead—her eyes filled with tender compassion, mixed with pity.

  Locking his arms over his chest, he narrowed his focus and jutted his chin toward the door. “I do just fine. My life’s not perfect—but it’s a good life. You don’t know squat about me, baseball hero. You’re so consumed with your little life, you don’t care about anyone else.” He rested his forearms on the table, leaning towards JT. “You appear to be an expert on my pitiful existence, but you haven’t been forthcoming with your own. You want to share what’s going on with you and that shoulder? You seem to be doing much better. Taking any short cuts? Talked to Scott lately?” His stomach churned with the offensive attack on Joe. He didn’t want to start with the questions that had been burning the edges of every conversation they’d had since Joe came home for Christmas.

  JT was naturally hyper, but in the past month he seemed to be “on” all the time. His friend was nursing a nagging injury that never fully healed after a spring training incident when he collided head first with a catcher at home plate. The past season’s numbers were well under his career average and his dipping stats had impacted his carefree, the-world-loves-everything-about-me, golden boy attitude.

  The few times Ryland had taken advantage of his summer off and caught games, JT rarely wanted to linger over a postgame meal. Their conversations since Macy’s death had transitioned from best friend to barely superficial.

  Joe was in a deep valley, and as his friend, Ryland wanted to help him climb back to the light, but at the moment he was struggling for his own ego’s survival and selfishness was rapidly winning. “No response? You’re reporting in what, six weeks? Will you be starting in the Show or will you be back home licking your wounds and bouncing around the minors?”

  Joe wiped his mouth with his napkin, swiveled to Tessa—shining his cereal box smile. “T.T. it’s been wonderful seeing you again, but I nearly forgot I need to help my brother with a project this afternoon. If you’ll excuse me.” The table rattled as he stood. Kissing Emma’s forehead, he whispered, “I’ll see you this week, slugger, OK?”

  “Do you hafta go, Uncle Joey?” Her head fell back to make eye contact.

  “I’m afraid so. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my brother.” Lifting his gaze from Emma to Ryland, twenty plus years of friendship transcended the need for words. His message was clear—Back off.

  Joe bent to eye level with Tessa. “I look forward to a longer reunion on Tuesday.” Tucking a stray strand behind her ear, he kissed her cheek with a subtle smack. Standing to his full six foot three, he nodded to Ryland. “Later.”

  Ryland scrubbed his face with his palm releasing a soft sigh. He’d crossed the unspoken line. The next few days would be a series of make-up hoop sessions and video game brawls. And he wouldn’t be any closer to discovering the truth behind the change in JT.

  “How could you?” Tessa hissed. “Every time I begin to think you’re a better version of yourself you end up being Ryland Jessup all over again.”

  “He gots to be. Ryland Jessup is Daddy’s name,” Emma said, as she shoved a spoonful of applesauce in her mouth.

  Tessa whipped her head to Emma—a look of shocked awareness splashed across her face. “I guess you’re right, Emma.” She lifted her gaze to Ryland. “I was just hoping your daddy was someone different.”

  “Then who’d he be?”

  “My friend.”

  15

  “Daddy, do you want to take a nap while Lily and I run to the market for dinner supplies?” Tessa asked as they walked through the front door of the parsonage.

  “T, we just ate lunch. How could you possibly be thinking of food? Do you have a tape worm?” Lily unraveled the scarf swathed around her neck and face.

  Really? Tessa said with her eyes.

  “On second thought,” Lily nodded. “We should get a head start if we’re making Mama’s mashed sweet potatoes, and chicken pot pies. How about a nice chocolate pie for dessert?”

  “I don’t think that’s on my diet, Lily.” Dad offered as he lowered onto the nearest overstuffed chair.

  “Oh, Rev. T., you just leave it to me. Beau’s daddy has a touch of the diabetes and we are constantly looking for ways to make good food healthy.” She patted him on the shoulder.

  Tessa crouched beside her father’s chair. “Will that be all right, Daddy? A little nap and a nice home-cooked meal—not by me.”

  “That’ll be fine, Tessa.” Despite overgrown hands, his touch was as light as an angel’s wing. His eyes shut before she stood.

  A twist in her heart squeezed guilt through her whole being. Today ha
d been too much for her father. She should have insisted on going home and waiting for him there so he could rest. But no, her recently awakened teenage hormones were in near constant control. If she had her grown up brain driving, she wouldn’t be on the emotional roller coaster of allowing childhood crushes and unruly anger consume her. Her focus needed to be solidly on her father and his recovery; that was why she was in Gibson’s Run. Starting now, she wouldn’t be swayed by messy-haired baseball players, or enraged by ex-jock coaches. Her sole focus would be on helping her dad. She kissed his forehead and nodded to Lily. Let’s go.

  ~*~

  The steering wheel rattled as Lily slammed the passenger door on Tessa’s ancient coupe.

  “Careful.”

  “Darlin’, not even Beau’s best duct tape job could fix this horrible excuse for a car. I’m shocked the po po haven’t yanked you right off the road for driver endangerment.” Lily flipped the visor. Swiping lip gloss over her bottom lip, she gave a little shrug. “You know I’m right, cher.”

  “And just how am I supposed to buy a new car? My current employment consists of eighty-five dollars a day substituting for my high school English teacher. And that’s pre-tax.”

  “That’s highway robbery.” Raising the visor, Lily swiveled in her seat. “But don’t you even try to play me. You and I both know that rainy-day-I’m-going-to-Europe fund is burning a hole in your overstuffed bank account. You’re forgetting I know how well your ghost writer self did before the terrible, awful day.”

  “I can’t dip into that money. It’s for Europe—or a rainy day which seems to be much more likely than a whirlwind trip to the South of France or the hills of Tuscany. Either way the money stays far away from my car. Wilma’s been just fine. We drove all the way from NOLA here didn’t we?”

  “I tried to forget you named this decrepit piece. At least you gave her a fitting name.”

  Tessa turned onto the open interstate connecting Gibson’s Run with the outside world. They could have picked up everything on their limited shopping list at the local specialty market around the corner from her dad’s house, but Tessa needed some time to think and some breathing room. Invariably, as soon as she picked up a basket at Dooley’s Fine Meats & Cheeses she would run into at least four of her father’s parishioners—and likely a Jessup or two. Ryland’s sisters and their offspring seemed to have multiplied exponentially since the last time she’d visited her father. Heading forty minutes out of town to the closest chain grocery seemed like the simplest and safest route.

  “You want to brood like a teen heartthrob or do you want to explain the urgent need to pick up dinner before lunch has fully settled in our bellies?”

  “Again. Two words—’what’s wrong?’—all you need, Lil.”

  “OK, boring much. What’s wrong?” Lily offered her best imitation of Tessa’s Midwestern accent.

  “Everything was fine at lunch—nice even. I probably flirted a little more than I should have with Joey.”

  “Long overdue if you ask me.”

  “And Ryland seemed to be the man I’ve glimpsed for the past week. Adult. Kind. Generous.”

  “Hmpf. I don’t know about all that, cher. He was pretty forceful when I threatened him.”

  Tessa swung her face to Lily. “You what?”

  “Threaten is too strong a word. I suggested—with great emphasis—he shouldn’t mess with you and Joey.”

  “Why would he mess with Joey and me? Ryland barely tolerates me.”

  “Umm…I think that’s a negative, Will Robinson.”

  “Could you join us in the English language, Lil?”

  “Mr. Jessup apparently had quite the crush on one Tessa Tarrington when she was six years old. It seems panty-gate was not ill intended. Rather, a diminutive Ryland Jessup was trying to impress you with his gift.”

  Slamming on her brakes, both women flung forward against their seatbelts whipping their hair about their shoulders.

  “Glory be, T. You trying to get that trip to the good and plenty sooner than our young years deserve?”

  “What did you say?”

  “Are you trying to kill us? I want to be a young bride—not make Beau a widower. You might want to put the jalopy back in drive before this nearly deserted highway fulfills its destiny and cars actually start progressing on the pavement.”

  “Ryland was trying to impress me?” Pressing the accelerator, her heart thumped against her chest in a matching pace.

  Patting her hair in place, Lily shrugged her shoulders. “That’s what the gaggle of Jessup sisters shared. It seems nearly every day when Ryland was not much older than his daughter, he waxed poetically about one Tessa—the fairy princess—Tarrington.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Ryland teased me nearly every day of elementary and junior high school. The only thing that made his sing-song, tone-deaf shouting of ‘here comes Pee-Pee Tee-Tee’ worse was the consistency of the taunt. Every day, Lil.”

  Lily pulled a single leg to her chest. “Didn’t you ever hear that when little boys tease you that’s their way of declaring their undying love? Not that adult men are much more evolved—but seriously, your momma never shared that tidbit?”

  “Well, sure, but she was more concerned with me not making a fuss with one of the most important families in the congregation. We moved here when I started kindergarten. For the first few years, momma felt we needed to always reflect the perfect, non-conflict family. So after a while, I stopped crying about the teasing to her. She was too busy to help.” Tessa swiped at the soft dew of perspiration sprinkling along her brow. “Besides, that was when he was like six. It’s not as if his crush survived elementary school. Right?”

  “Umm. Sure. That’s why he ran those boys breathless yesterday, left abruptly last night, and tried to make Joey look like an idiot over lunch. Sure—not a crush in sight.”

  The oxygen in the car seemed to evaporate. Breaths—shallow and soft—fought to grab air. Sweat poured down her spine. Ryland Jessup did not have feelings for her. What a ridiculous thought. She was his human teasing bag. Her rational, organized mine tore apart the story to diagram the plot—just as she had for dozens of projects—and Ryland Jessup as the villain didn’t add up. Regardless of how the better part of thirteen years were clouded by his near incessant torture, she couldn’t deny the kindness and generosity she’d witnessed and received of late. But kindness didn’t translate to romantic interest.

  Her breath steadied. Kindness was the gateway to friendship. Was she friends with Ryland? No. She was quite horrible to him, but he was consistently generous with her. Extending kindness that was beyond casual. And she rebuffed his outstretched hand at every turn. Tightening her grip over the steering wheel, her heart tripped. She needed to become Ryland Jessup’s friend. She might as well. She was living out all her teenage fantasies. She might as well face all her nightmares.

  16

  “That was amazing, Lily. I can’t believe the whole meal was low fat.” Tessa’s father reclined in his chair and rubbed his belly through his worn burgundy sweater.

  “The secret’s in the spices, Rev T. Beau’s daddy’s all about the spicier the better. I toned the chicken pot pie heat to a Yankee tolerated mild, but I believe the kick rounds out the flavor so you don’t even realize your using skim milk or low fat cheese.”

  Gulping down her fourth glass of water, Tessa’s eyes burned from the toned down spice mixture. Eight years in Louisiana—four in New Orleans—she could eat Cajun with the truest of natives. Lily’s idea of mild was anything but.

  “You OK over there, cher?” Lily reached for her hand.

  All Tessa could offer was a quick nod and a point to the kitchen for more water. She flipped on the faucet and resisted the urge to dunk her head under the spray. She drank and filled her glass two more times before the heat subsided. Closing her eyes she rested her hip against the sink rim, the surface cool against her over-spiced body.

  Lily was a creative culinary God-send—allowing her
father to escape a swirling pool of macaroni & cheese and tomato soup—but she was hopeful there were no leftovers to extend past Lil’s visit. With one additional glass of water, sipped rather than gulped, she filled her glass to the brim.

  “Hey, cher,” Lily shouted from the dining room. “You wanna cut the pie while you’re in there lollygagging?”

  “Sure.” Tessa’s voice held greater strength. Lifting the glass dome off of the cake plate, she sucked in the sweet, rich aroma of Lily Mae’s Grandma Delta’s Chocolate Meringue Pie. With quick efficient strokes perfected through decades of carry-in dinners, Tessa sliced the pie in eight equal pieces. An eighth seemed like a sensible portion.

  Lily’s baking magic created the pie and there was nothing low fat attached to the dessert.

  She loaded up her mother’s tea service tray with the pie, dessert plates, server, and her much needed water. If Daddy wanted coffee, she’d drop a pod in the one cup wonder, but she definitely didn’t need any additional stimulation for the evening.

  With measured steps, eyes focused on the delicate pie and its ride alongs, she tried to avoid the Thanksgiving debacle of age seven. She gently slid the tray onto the glossy surface of Grandma Jacobson’s mahogany dining room table. Greedily grabbing her glass, she downed the water to drown the rising flame in her throat. The cool glass against her lips was a delicious relief. She quickly gave in to the temptation to wipe the clinging condensation from the glass, relieving the heat continuing to build up her neck.

  “Ahem.” Daddy cleared his throat. “Tessa, we have company.”

  Tessa lazily opened her eyes and the glass slipped through her fingers, shattering at her bare feet. Ryland Jessup is everywhere.

  “Swizzle sticks,” she mumbled as she dropped to snag the big pieces.

  “I’ll grab a dustpan.” Lily scurried on tiptoes past the shattered mess.

  “Let me help.” Ryland was snatching chunks of glass before she could respond.

  “Hey, Miss Emma,” Pastor Tom said, “why don’t we take our pie in the living room? I think I have a new DVD you haven’t seen.” Chairs scooted and little feet shuffled.