Dearest Dorothy, Slow Down, You're Wearing Us Out!

by Charlene Ann Baumbich

  “For both of them?”

  “Yes. Oh, wait, the buttons I attached were already in my sewing kit.”

  “The buttons,” Katie said. She set the baskets down, then picked up the larger of the two so she could explore it with both hands. That was the first she noticed that the few strategically and perfectly placed dangles hanging from the bounty of arching twigs were made out of buttons. “Jessica, you never told me you were an artist!”

  “Oh, goodness no, I’m not an artist. I just enjoy doing crafts.”

  “No. You are an artist,” Katie said with a definitive tone that left no room for backtalk, especially not from an artist.

  “You know,” Jessica said while tearing up, “my mom used to call me her little artist every once in a while.” She leaned down and kissed the top of Sarah Sue’s head as tenderly as if it were the most fragile of hand-blown glass. “And you? You, my little wiggle worm, what will I one day call you?” She closed her eyes and rested her cheek atop her warm baby’s head while she maneuvered her forefinger into her daughter’s tiny fingers until they nestled round her own.

  “Your mother was certainly right to call you that,” Katie said reverently. One thought after another began to fly through her head. Gift of grace. I remember Mom sometimes calling me her blessed gift of grace when I was a child. She bit her lower lip as she recalled the warm tone in her mother’s voice and the way her eyes seemed to cloud over when she would bend down, tilt her daughter’s chin upward and utter those words. Then she would swoop Katie up in her arms and hug her tightly. Katie never did quite understand why her mom called her that or what it really meant.

  “What do you call Joshua?” Jessica queried between tiny kisses to her child’s silky angel hair.

  A long silence followed the question. Katie was now chewing on her bottom lip, aghast at her own truth: she had never called him anything other than Josh, Joshua or Joshua Matthew when she was angry. Her son had never heard a sweet, mother’s affirmation. Tears started pouring down her cheeks.

  “Katie! What is it, honey?” Jessica reached over and took Katie’s hand.

  “What is it about the two of us being together that causes us to flit so easily between laughter and tears?”

  “Hormones,” Jessica immediately replied. “Hormones.” Through her tears, Katie began to laugh. She laughed so long and hard that her laughter spilled over into full-blown weeping, which of course sent Jessica down the same path. Before they knew it, they were both heading toward the bathroom to grab some toilet paper with which to blow their noses.

  15

  Katie gave an audible sigh of relief when Dorothy, Earl right by her side, greeted her on May Belle’s front porch. She was elated to see for herself that Dorothy wasn’t bruised from head to toe and that she was quite ambulatory and spunky, albeit a bit slower. Elation was short-lived, however, for as soon as they entered the living room where Dorothy’s men were seated, an emotional chill blasted Katie.

  Although Vincent had been friendly enough during their introduction, extending his hand in welcome to both Katie and Josh, when it was Jacob’s turn to meet the city slickers, he simply glared and nodded his head, leaving Katie’s hand awkwardly dangling in front of her. To say he was openly hostile was no exaggeration. Josh, witnessing the overt shunning, quickly stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans when it came time for his introduction.

  The fact that Dorothy had entered the living room with her arm around Josh’s waist and his around hers had unexpectedly tilted her grandsons toward a jealous edge. Although they both shook hands with Josh, the exchange was limp at best. It was obvious they were giving him a careful looking over. He wished Alex had been able to make this trip so he wouldn’t feel outnumbered in the teen department. Dorothy pulled Josh a little closer to her side during the eyeballing interlude, clearly sending a physical message to her grandsons about Josh’s being welcome. Sensitive to her grandsons’ emotional needs, however, when she finally let go of Josh and after her grandsons reseated themselves, she marched straight across the room to the couch where they had plunked themselves and playfully wiggled her way between them, draping one arm over each of their shoulders.

  May Belle appeared from the kitchen, first wiping her hands down the front of her gingham apron, then tucking flyaway hairs behind her ears with her index fingers. She opened wide her stocky arms and greeted Katie and Josh with genuine warmth and welcome, then asked Earl to move a couple of dining room chairs into the living room so the new guests could be seated until it was time for dinner.

  “Help yourselves to the snacks there,” she said, pointing toward the sectioned, clear-glass food tray carefully arranged atop two flowered napkins. “There’s mild Colby cheese and Ritz crackers. The celery sticks are stuffed with cream cheese and a bit of freshly diced chives from my garden. And what can I get you to drink? I made some fresh lemonade, if that sounds all right. Otherwise I’ve always got iced tea available this time of year. But I tell you, Your Store’s lemons were just as ripe and juicy as I have ever seen them!”

  “Sold!” Josh said. “Sold on the lemonade.”

  “Make that two,” Katie added.

  “You won’t be sorry, I guarantee,” Dorothy said with gusto, downing a gulp herself. “So how was your trip down, aside from long?” she asked while Josh and Katie seated themselves side by side on the chairs Earl had dutifully pulled into the room—although he had disappeared immediately following.

  After a debriefing about the tardy start and the traffic snarl they’d endured, Katie switched the topic to Dorothy’s accident. “I am just so relieved to see for myself you’re up and about, Dorothy.”

  “Yeah, I guess the garbage truck driver didn’t know Miss Outtamyway was following him, huh?” Josh laughed at his own statement, as did Dorothy. In fact, the two of them got to laughing harder and harder, apparently lost in their own private jokes. Dorothy’s men simply looked at both of them as though they were daft.

  “Miss out of my way?” Steven finally asked when the laughter died down, looking at his grandmother.

  “Oh, that’s just the screen name I use for my e-mails with everyone who isn’t a blood relative, and the Joshmeister here seems to think that’s funny!”

  “Joshmeister?” Steven asked again, this time raising his eyebrows and making a face that indicated he thought this all a bit hokey.

  For whatever reason, Josh felt compelled to explain. “My buddy Alex started calling me that, and I just ended up keeping it as my e-mail name, for lack of the ability to come up with something more clever.” He paused a moment, then added, “And so your grandmother uses that name, too.”

  Silence. The boys stared at one another, Josh shifting his eyes from Steven to Bradley, then back to Steven again, hoping he’d see some sign of understanding or acceptance cross their faces—which he didn’t.

  “So, Dorothy,” Josh said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “I didn’t know you even had another screen name. What is it?”

  “GrandmaDW,” she replied. “Doesn’t sound as zippy, but it’s who I’m proud to be!” She winked at her grandsons, who broke out in grins.

  “Mother tells me you’re in real estate, Miss Durbin,” Jacob said, looking at Katie across the room and over the top of his glasses. “What type of real estate?”

  Katie, now venturing into her waters, felt her security slip back into place. “Commercial development,” she said without apology, “although you might say I’m currently unemployed.” Let him chew on that one awhile!

  “Unemployed?”

  “Yes.” She offered no more, but smiled her most pleasant of smiles.

  “Dinner is just about ready,” May Belle said, appearing once again in the doorway.

  “Can I help you with anything?” Katie asked, rising from her chair, hoping to leave her last statement dangling in the air.

  May Belle waved for her to sit back down. “Goodness me no! Why, I’ve got Earl as busy as a bee in here, and I’m sure
he wouldn’t want anyone taking over his job. You folks just continue visiting, and I’ll be calling you shortly.” In a flash, she disappeared back into the kitchen. Soon her happy music of spoons clanking against pans and bowls could be heard loudly rat-a-tatting its way into the living room.

  “Did you find you could quit your job after securing my mother’s estate?” Jacob asked, the tone in his voice accusatory.

  Katie opened her mouth to respond, but Dorothy jumped in first. “Jacob Henry,” she began, holding the line in her voice from verging into one of chastisement, knowing her son’s dander was already raised and that it would only further antagonize and rile him to embarrass him by using her motherly tone, “I do recall telling you, honey, that Katie was not acting in her professional capacity when she purchased the farm. I imagine that just slipped your mind. She bought it as a private citizen who, after years of good investments, is blessed enough by God to have the money to do so, and I continue to be grateful to God for His divine timing.”

  Jacob looked at his mom, aware of exactly what she was doing: trying to avoid conflict. He swallowed, twice, as though driving down his own words. After all, the deal was struck and there was nothing he could do about it. Of course he remembered every word his mother had told him about Miss Katie Durbin. Every ongoing word. In fact, it seemed his mother just could not stop talking about her. And like it or not, dinner was now being served to their entire gathering, according to May Belle’s announcement. They were each to find their place cards and be seated.

  Dorothy and May Belle were seated close together at the head and corner of the ample, ancient table; Jacob was at the foot. Vincent and his sons were along one side; Earl sat next to May Belle and Josh beside him, leaving Katie to fill out the other side—and sitting next to Jacob.

  Dorothy gave the blessing, as usual expressing her gratefulness for, and mentioning something unique about, each member seated at the table. Three times throughout her prayer, she repeated the use of the words “My family gathered around me.” The third time, Katie’s eyes couldn’t help but flutter open as she peeked toward Jacob—who was staring straight at her.

  “So, has Arthur got The Tank running yet, Dorothy?” Josh queried while scraping the last bits of cherry pie filling off his plate with his dessert fork.

  “Yeah, Gram. Good question,” Bradley added.

  Dorothy slowly wiped her mouth with her napkin, folded it back into a perfect square and set it on the table before she answered. “No. No, he hasn’t.”

  “You know, Mom, I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned The Tank yet,” Vinnie said. “So what’s up with her?”

  “How long do you think it will be before you’ve got your wheels back?” Steven asked.

  “What’s up with The Tank?” Dorothy asked, as though she had to repeat the question to take it in. “I’d say not much.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Mom?” Jacob asked, cutting himself another piece of pie, which gave Josh the same idea. Josh quietly asked his mom to please pass him the pie plate when Jacob finished serving himself.

  “Just that. No more, no less,” Dorothy said.

  “So when will you have her back?” Josh asked without making eye contact, since he was busy picking up piecrust crumbs that had fallen from his last serving onto May Belle’s powder blue tablecloth.

  Dorothy watched her own hand nervously play with the edge of her folded napkin, her silence and obvious avoidance in answering eventually commanding everyone’s attention. At last she looked up at the staring group and spoke in a voice that was barely audible. “Well, now,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “Arthur seems to believe The Tank has given us her last ride.”

  After a brief pause, Vinnie spoke. “Mom, I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. You mean The Tank is wrecked beyond repair?”

  “No, son. I mean The Tank was already having some technical difficulties before the accident, and this just seems to have been her last straw.”

  “Technical difficulties?” Bradley asked.

  “Cracked engine block,” Dorothy said, shaking her head back and forth, again staring at her napkin.

  May Belle’s eyes were as round and nearly as wide open as her favorite pie plate. “Dorothy! You never told me that!”

  “I haven’t told anyone. I just couldn’t bear to hear myself say it.”

  “So now what, Mom?” Jacob asked. Before she could respond, he added, “Surely you’re not going to get another car, are you?” Although everyone was thinking that, in Katie’s opinion, nobody should be rude enough to ask it!

  “Of course Grandma will get another car, Uncle Jacob!” Steven said. “Won’t you, Grandma?”

  “To tell you the absolute truth, I haven’t quite made up my mind what I’m going to do, honey. But never you mind, because me and the Lord will work it all out.”

  “Mother, to get another car at your age seems like a vast waste of money. And after all, you’ll be moving into town soon anyway. What on earth would you need a car for?” Jacob’s tone of voice came out a bit harsher than he’d meant.

  Katie had had it. “So she can visit whomever she likes whenever she wants!” she snapped. Even though she didn’t really think Dorothy should be driving, it was not a man’s place to tell her when she had to stop!

  Jacob’s head reared back. “Well, nearly all of her friends live in town, Miss Durbin,” he said sarcastically.

  “Well, we won’t. We won’t live in town. And neither do Arthur and Jessie Landers.”

  “No. Of course you won’t live in town,” Jacob tersely said. “You’ll be living at Crooked Creek Farm. Or will you? I imagine you could make quite the killing just turning that place over to one of your conglomerates.” Jacob pushed himself back in his chair, abruptly stood up and threw his napkin down onto his empty plate, somewhat hovering over Katie, who immediately stood her full height—albeit a good eight or nine inches shorter than Jacob—and tossed her shoulders back.

  “Mr. Wetstra. I have every intention of moving onto that farm. AND, with all good will, I even helped your mother donate a portion of that estate to be designated as a park. Not to mention that what I do is none of your business! In fact, it doesn’t seem like what your mother does has been much of your business lately, either! Maybe that’s why she was looking for outside help!”

  “NOW, THAT IS ENOUGH!” Dorothy yelled, briskly standing. “That is just enough from both of you. Goodness me, I can’t remember when I’ve seen two adults make more of a mountain of mayhem out of a molehill. You’d think I was ten years old, or at the very least as deaf as a post, since you’re both talking like I’m not even here!”

  Suddenly Dorothy stooped over a bit, leaning on her chair. Before anyone else could react, Earl was out of his chair and behind Dorothy, steadying her in his strong arms. “Sit down, Dearest Dorothy,” he said softly. “Please sit down. Please sit down and be all right.” He’d never heard her yell in his life. Although raised voices always sent him scurrying, there was no way he would leave her now.

  With May Belle’s and Josh’s assistance, they pulled out Dorothy’s chair and helped get her seated. Earl ran to the kitchen for a glass of water, since that’s what he’d been asked to do the last time Dorothy was in distress. Dorothy leaned over in her chair and began fumbling under the table.

  “What do you need, Dorothy?” May Belle asked. “Please sit still and just tell me what you need.”

  “My handbag. Did you see where I put my handbag?”

  “I believe it’s over there on the couch,” May Belle said, glancing that way and then nodding her head with affirmation. “Yes, there it is. You just sit still, dear.”

  “Get it for me, quick, please,” Dorothy said weakly. She raised her hand to her chest. Before May Belle had barely moved, Jacob was back at the table handing the purse to his mother. Dorothy immediately began rifling through it until her hand felt the familiar little bottle. She popped off the lid, removed a tiny pill and slid it under her tongue. �
��I’ll be fine in a minute. Really, I’m fine. Everyone sit down and relax.” She smiled faintly, then rested her head on the palm of her hand, her elbow propped on the table.

  “What are you taking, Mom?” Vinnie asked.

  “Just a little nitroglycerin,” Dorothy said. “I’ll be better in a jiffy.” She lifted her head and broadly smiled at her younger son, trying to reassure him. Earl tapped Dorothy on the shoulder and handed her the giant glass of water he’d retrieved, then he began wringing his hands. Dorothy reached over and rested her hand atop his. “Earl, your Dearest Dorothy is going to be just fine, honey. Thank you so much for the water.” She looked at everyone at the table. They were all still standing. “Please sit down. I’m not dead or dying…just yet,” she said, then she began to laugh. Although they did cautiously sit down, glancing nervously from one to the other, no one else joined her in the laughter.

  “Mom, how long have you been using nitroglycerin?” Vinnie asked.

  “Oh, just for a while now. Look how quickly it works. It’s like a miracle, really. The pain is nearly gone already. I just need to sit here a bit longer, since sometimes the pill makes me kind of woozy—when I don’t make myself that way!” Again, she smiled a hearty smile.

  “What’s wrong with you, exactly, that you need to be taking nitroglycerin?” Jacob asked, trying to hold a soft and reassuring tone to his voice when in fact he was scared and still reeling from Katie’s barb—which, although he’d surely never let her know it, had pierced his conscience.

  “The old ticker’s just wearing down a bit. Me and The Tank are just heading toward the end of the road, I reckon.”

  “Mom! That is not funny!” Vinnie said emphatically.

  “Now is not the time for you to lose your sense of humor, Vincent Wetstra. But in fact, I didn’t mean for that to be funny. Just honest. And now you know another of the reasons I’m so glad to be moving into town. In fact, it wasn’t until this moment that I realized I should not be driving. I imagine since I didn’t have the good sense to quit driving on my own, the Lord has just figured out His own way to help me in that decision. Why, I wouldn’t put it past Him a bit to be able to put a crack in an engine block, whatever that is!”