Beth looked at her girls as a lump formed in her throat. They certainly needed some good things to remember about their childhood.
So did she.
After Rich died Beth spent a lot of time angry and sad and disappointed, mostly in herself for not being able to save him, not being able to find a way to have the happy marriage that might have kept him from doing the things he did. But after many hours in therapy, she’d finally been able to see their life together for what it was.
An abusive marriage full of manipulation, control, and dysfunction. That realization was almost more painful to deal with than Rich’s death, his crimes, his addictions.
But it was what it was.
Coming to terms with the truth of what her relationship with Rich had actually been, tainted every memory Beth had with him for a long time. But she had two little girls who needed to hear about him, about their life with him, and they looked to her to tell them. So she worked through those feelings until finally she was able to remember some of the happier moments in her marriage without the shadow of the unhappiness that settled over them after his death.
“Rich used to do all the cooking.” Beth waited, unsure if Nancy was in the same place.
Nancy stopped the mixer and handed Beth a rubber spatula. “That doesn’t surprise me.” She pointed at the bowl holding the butter. “Scrape the butter stuck to the sides into the bottom of the bowl and add in the sugar before you turn the mixer back on.” Nancy leaned on the peninsula separating the kitchen and the great room. “You girls want to hear a story about your daddy?”
“Yes!” Both girls jumped up from the rug and ran to the kitchen, climbing up on the stools at the counter, their eyes locked on Nancy, waiting.
“Is it the one about the goose?” Liza slid her hand across the counter, her fingers twitching as they reached for the open bag of chocolate chips waiting to find their place in the cookie dough Beth was attempting to make. “That one’s my favorite.”
Kate’s eyes bounced between Nancy and the bag of chips her sister almost had in her grip. “I like the one about the pond best.”
Nancy grabbed the bag Liza was nearly sprawled across the counter trying to reach and shook out a pile of chips onto the counter in front of them. “Nope. This is a new story you haven’t heard.”
Beth opened the container of white sugar and checked the recipe. She carefully scooped the specified amount into the silver measuring cup Nancy laid out and poured it on top of the ‘creamed’ butter, but cookie making was getting only half her attention at best. For the most part, Beth was focused on her mother-in-law and the little girls waiting patiently to hear a story about their daddy, obviously not the first they’d been told like this, popping chocolate chips into their mouth.
She’d never wanted to hug Nancy more. Knowing the weight of keeping their father’s memory alive, in the way they deserved, wouldn’t be left to fall solely on Beth’s shoulders was a huge relief.
Nancy peeked over the mixer bowl at Beth as she tried to measure out the wet sand sugar. “Smoosh it down in there so it’s all packed in nice and tight.” Nancy turned back to the girls. “Your daddy wanted to learn to cook when he was young. He would help me with dinner every night from the time he was your age until he was a big kid.”
Beth dropped the clump of brown sugar in the bowl but waited to turn on the mixer. She snuck a chocolate chip from the girl’s pile, giving Kate a wink and holding her pointer finger over her lips when her daughter giggled at the thievery.
Nancy added more chips to the pile before continuing with her story. “When the boys were young I always sent the same cookies to their school bake sales.” She leaned in, close to the girls. “It was a secret recipe and everyone wanted it.”
Kate’s eyes were wide. “Did you give it to them?”
Nancy scoffed. “No way. It was my own secret recipe for the best chocolate chip cookies in the whole world and I wasn’t going to share it with just anybody.” Nancy lowered the mixer into the bowl and switched in on to low. “So, in junior high your daddy and Uncle Tommy had to take a class where kids learn to cook. The teacher realized your daddy knew how to cook and that he might know my super-secret cookie recipe.”
“Did he know it?” Liza was popping chips into her mouth like they were popcorn, brown eyes glued to her Nana.
Nancy nodded her head. “He did.”
The girls gasped, holding their hands over their mouths.
“Did he tell?” Kate’s words were muffled as they traveled between her barely parted fingers.
Nancy rocked her head from side to side. “Sort of. We’ll just say he accidentally got a few ingredients mixed up and the same teacher brought some very salty and very crunchy cookies to the next bake sale.”
The girls burst out in laughter.
So did their mother.
Beth stopped the mixer with one hand and wiped at the tear leaking from the corner of her eye with the other. “I have never heard that story before.” She glanced back at what she now assumed was the recipe for the best chocolate chip cookies in the world, double checking before she scraped the sugar and butter down into the center of the bowl.
Nancy set a giant vat of flour on the counter. “You’ll have to have the girls tell you their favorite stories later.”
Kate stood up on the footrest of her stool and peered into the bowl Beth was adding flour to. “Are those secret cookies?”
Nancy held one hand to the side of her mouth and whispered. “Maybe.”
“Can I learn to cook them too?” Kate was now on her knees, leaning half her body on the counter watching Beth’s every move.
“You know what? I bet your mommy would love to have help.” Nancy drug a step stool from beside the fridge and unfolded it, setting it beside Beth.
“I need all the help I can get.” Beth held the three by five index card covered in Nancy’s perfect printing up, reading the next ingredient. “I don’t even know what this is.”
Nancy handed a small yellow tub to Kate as the little girl climbed up on the step stool. “Cornstarch. But don’t tell anyone.”
Kate slowly unscrewed the blue lid. “Is this the secret?”
Nancy shrugged innocently dragging another giggle from Kate.
Beth slid the card in front of Kate. “How much does it say we need?”
Kate squinted at the card as she read the list of ingredients out loud until she reached cornstarch. “It says two tsss, tsppp—”
Beth grinned down at her and handed her the teaspoon. “T, S, P, period, is a short way to write teaspoon.”
Kate took the spoon and stuck it into the fine powder inside the tub. “Like an abbreviation?”
Beth beamed. “You are so smart.” She squeezed her oldest daughter tight and dropped a kiss on her head. “I love you.”
After just a few more minutes, and with more than a little help from Nancy and Kate, Beth slid the first tray of cookies into the oven. “Now we wait to see how we did.”
“You did a good job mommy.” Kate stuck a cookie dough covered finger in her mouth. “It’s yummy.”
“There’s hope for me yet.” Beth rinsed a dishrag with warm water and swiped it across the counter, working off bits of already dried dough and smudges from little chocolate covered fingers.
“Mommy Mister Don is outside.” Liza stood by the window at the back of the house, staring out at Don and Paul who were deep in conversation, pointing around the fenced yard.
“That’s nice honey.” Beth quickly turned her back to the window, taking her time putting away the sugars and flour, hoping to give the flush burning up her face time to calm down. It had almost been a week since she assaulted the poor man but the embarrassment was still fresh, especially with Nancy standing just behind her.
“What’s he doing?” Liza was still staring into the back yard when Beth finally turned back around.
Nancy gave Beth an odd look before going to stand beside Liza at the window. “He and Paul are figuring out
where to put my garden beds so we can plant our vegetables in the spring.”
“Already? There’s still five inches of snow on the ground.” Beth grinned at Nancy hoping she would jump on the opportunity to talk about her gardening instead of why Liza was pointing out Don’s presence to her mother.
That darn kid was too perceptive for her own good. And Beth’s. You think you can stare out the window innocently. Not necessarily innocently, but who would expect a five-year-old to immediately figure out just what you were looking out the window at?
Beth didn’t and now it was biting her in the butt.
“Well, I think the boys are going stir crazy waiting for the house they just finished to close.” Nancy waved at the men who just realized they had an audience and were making faces at Liza.
Beth switched on the oven light and forced herself to look at the cookies, instead of continuously trying to sneak unobserved peeks out the window. Nothing bad seemed to be happening to her first official batch of completely homemade cookies. They were puffing up a little but there wasn’t any smoke so everything might actually be going well. “When is that supposed to happen?”
Nancy’s brow furrowed. “In the next couple of weeks I think.”
Beth crossed her arms and leaned against the wide doorway between the kitchen and great room trying to act calm and unaffected but she was dangerously close to throwing up as her nerves did a dance in her stomach. Don and Paul could only stand outside making garden plans for so long. Then they would come inside.
And she would be face to face with Don for the first time since she’d been lip to lip with the poor guy.
“I’m happy Paul’s been able to keep him busy in the meantime.” Nancy left the window and came to join Beth.
Beth pressed her lips together, trying to force them to stay shut. Asking questions about Don would only risk making Nancy suspicious. If she wasn’t already. Unfortunately, as was their new habit, her lips had ideas of their own. “Why is that?”
Nancy sighed. “I know you’ve heard bad things about him, but Don is one of the kindest people you could ever meet.” Nancy leaned to peek back at the men still wandering around her yard. “He just struggled to find his way.”
Nancy’s innocent statement brought a sting of emotion, like a gentle face slap followed by a soft elbow to the gut. Nothing harsh because it wasn’t intended, but it was still there.
Did she think Beth was the kind of person to believe what others said? To blindly agree with people she hardly knew? It appeared that maybe so.
Then she said Don was kind. It was a fact Beth already knew, but Nancy reinforcing that belief wasn’t going to help her resolve to forget about Don Jenkins and the feel of his strong body pressed against hers.
But the worst thing Nancy did was remind her about the life Don had. The struggles he faced. Even only knowing the small amount she did was enough to make Beth want to wrap her arms around him and kiss away the…
Oh wait. She did that already.
“I actually haven’t heard much about him.” Beth tried not to sound anything other than casual. Not a little offended Nancy would think she’d judge him. Not heart sick over the way he grew up. Definitely not like she’d imagined him naked.
“Really?” Nancy sounded shocked.
Beth shrugged. “Autumn and Jerry told me he had kind of a bad childhood.”
Nancy shook her head and her nostrils flared. “Bad doesn’t even begin to explain the hell that man went through.” She glanced at Don in the back yard. “Is still going through.”
“What do you mean?” As much as Beth tried to convince herself she didn’t want to know any more about Don, that she needed to just forget he even existed, it was turning out to be an impossible task. And not just logistically.
“His mother was a drug addict for years.” Nancy sighed. “She wasn’t a bad person, just couldn’t deal with life I guess.”
The timer went off on the oven and Beth wanted to scream. She rushed to turn it off hoping Nancy wouldn’t forget their conversation. She kept her eyes on Nancy and slipped one tray of cookies out and the next in. Thankfully her mother-in-law kept talking.
“Jeanie had a stroke last summer most likely brought on from all the crap she did to her body over the years.”
Beth dropped the hot tray on top of the stove and stood straight. Her hand went over her heart, pressing against the pain she could almost feel for him. “I didn’t know his mother died too.” She knew better than most that even when someone wasn’t all good, their death was still painful.
Sometimes more so.
Nancy shook her head. “She didn’t die but it would have been better for him if she had.” Nancy picked up a smooth, thin spatula and transferred the baked cookies, one at a time, to a rack. “She’s almost an invalid and has dementia like panic attacks. It’s an awful thing to see.”
Beth’s hand dropped. “Did she have to go to a nursing home?”
“He takes care of her.” Nancy’s face tightened. “Much better than she ever took care of him.”
Beth’s throat felt like a clenched fist as she tried to breathe through it. She wasn’t the only one Don was taking care of. “That’s an amazing thing of him to do.”
“He’s an amazing kid.” Nancy’s shoulders dropped. “I just wish he knew it.” Nancy pulled a plastic storage container from one of the richly stained upper cabinets. “I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for him.” She nodded at the back window where Liza had been standing. “Looks like I’m not the only girl in this family with one.”
Liza was bounding in circles around Don, her hair loose and flying in the wind, as he struggled to drop his coat over her shoulders, laughing along with her daughter. Beth’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe she could find a way to admire him from a safe distance. Far enough she wouldn’t risk showing him her appreciation in inappropriate ways. Again.
Like trying to make him the rice inside her blanket burrito.
By the time Paul and Don shoved Liza back in the house, all the cookies were baked and packed into two containers. One to leave for Paul, and one for Beth to take home.
Beth loaded the last dirty bowl into the dishwasher and dropped a soap packet into the tray before setting the cycle and hitting the start button. “I should be going. I need to go to the grocery and then I have papers to grade before tomorrow.”
Nancy held out a small, hardcover journal. “I wrote down some of my favorite easy recipes.”
Beth took the book and flipped through the pages. Each was a short list of ingredients, followed by simple, well explained directions, perfectly printed in Nancy’s handwriting. She wrapped Nancy in a tight hug. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
Nancy squeezed her back. “Being a mom is hard. I wanted to help make dinner easy.” She kissed Beth’s cheek. “I love you honey.”
When Beth realized moving home wasn’t going to be an option, one that made sense anyway, she worried just a little about being so far away from her own parents. That maybe she would feel alone and a little stranded because who in the world would drag their son’s estranged widow into their family and claim her as one of their own?
Nancy did. And Beth loved her like a mother so it worked out for everyone.
“Okay ladies. Who’s ready to go to the grocery?” Beth grabbed her container of cookies off the counter on her way to herd the girls to the front door as they wrestled on their coats and yelled out requests.
“Mommy, I want more yogurts. But not the kind in a cup. I want the long kind.” Kate pulled up her zipper and shoved her feet into her snow boots. “And some crackers.”
Liza pushed past her sister to open the front door. “We need some marshmallows and I like cheese.”
“Well let’s go then so we can get home and eat it all.” She waved as Nancy shut the door behind them. Kate jumped in the seat behind Beth’s and wrapped the belt across her body, clicking it into place. Beth slid open the back passenger door and helped Liza get situated. As the door
slid shut she looked at the car parked beside hers. Beth fished around in her purse until her fingers grabbed onto a sharpie in the side pocket.
She glanced up at the house as she scrawled across the plastic top of the cookie container, checking to be sure the windows were clear, then quietly opened the unlocked driver’s door of the older model sedan that could only belong to one person. After placing the freshly baked ‘best cookies in the world’ on the seat, she bumped the door closed silently and jumped in her own car.
There weren’t only two girls in the family with a soft spot for Donnie Jenkins, but no one else had to know that.
EIGHT
Don turned onto the narrow street expecting to see Ladonna’s car in the driveway. Instead, his old car, which ironically was ten years newer than the car he currently drove, sat in front of the trailer. Tara managed to beat him home.
He pulled in beside her car and climbed out, happy to have the company even though her early arrival meant she had plans for the evening. He pulled open the unlocked door and stepped in to find her propped against the kitchen counter, snacking.
“I would have stopped at the store and grabbed some food on my way home if I knew you were going to ignore me and come home anyway.” He shook the droplets clinging to his hat off before hanging it up by the door. It was supposed to rain all night and it was off to a good start.
“Man I wish you had, this cookie is stale as hell.” Tara stepped across the tiny kitchen and chucked what was left of the last cookie Beth gave him into the garbage can.
He froze. His baby sister didn’t have any clue what she’d just done, making the urge to throttle her a completely unreasonable reaction. Don took a deep breath as Tara rummaged through the cabinets until she found a bag of pretzels and went back to her spot leaned against the aged and chipping Formica counter.
“How was mom this week?” She crunched into a thick chunk of hard sourdough pretzel as she opened the fridge and pulled out a soda. “She seemed okay when I went in to check on her.” She snapped the tab and the can let out a whoosh as the carbonation rushed out. Tara shrugged as she took a quick sip. “I mean I know that’s relative. She didn’t start screaming when I came in.”
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