Scrap Everything

by Leslie Gould

  “Patrick will understand once you explain.”

  “No, he was right. I shouldn’t have gone. It was too much to ask of Polly. Life is too hard for her. I was only thinking about my own desperation.”

  “And Pepper’s needs.”

  Rebekah rested her chin on her hand.

  “When does Patrick come home?” Elise asked.

  “Tomorrow.” Rebekah bit the scar on her lip. “Unless he takes a late flight tonight. Elise—” Rebekah wanted to ask her about trust. Did she trust God to take care of Ted? to take care of her and the boys?

  Pepper pranced back into the room. “Mom, I have a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday.”

  “Really?”

  “They left a message. It’s at 2:15.”

  Rebekah checked the calendar. “Reid has a basketball game that afternoon.”

  “He can come to our house before the game,” Elise said.

  “I wonder if I can get Sandi to watch the shop again. I hate to keep asking her.”

  “I don’t think she minds. If she does, John could watch the boys, and I can watch the shop.”

  “Thanks.” Rebekah put her arm around Elise. “Thanks for everything.”

  Elise hugged her back, a dainty hug, but still, it was something.

  Rebekah headed up the stairs with a stack of clean towels that Elise had left in the dryer. All of the laundry was caught up for a few minutes, thanks to Elise, until the kids took their dirty clothes off. Rebekah couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t have piles of laundry to wash. Reid sat at his computer on the landing, and Pepper stood over him, both of her hands glued to the back of the chair.

  “It’s my turn,” Pepper wailed.

  “Use Mom’s computer.”

  “It’s too slow.”

  “It’s as fast as this one.” Reid slammed his back against Pepper’s hands and clicked onto his e-mail.

  “I want to check my mail.” Pepper yanked her hands out from behind her brother’s back and planted them on her hips.

  “Pepper, go downstairs.” Rebekah crammed the stack of towels into the hall closet.

  “He always gets his way.” Pepper yanked on the back of Reid’s chair.

  “I wish we’d never adopted you.” Reid stood and pulled the chair back toward the computer.

  “Stop.” Rebekah stepped between her children. Why would Reid say that? “Pepper, go downstairs. Reid, you have five minutes.” Rebekah crossed her arms, opened her mouth again, and then closed it.

  “You know what’s ironic?” Reid hunkered over the keyboard. “That Dad is a computer geek, and we have the slowest computers in the entire state.”

  “Be thankful you have a computer.” Rebekah headed down the stairs.

  Reid pushed back from the computer and stood over the railing. “Mom?”

  “What, Reid?”

  “Thanks for sticking up for me in front of Pepper.”

  “Reid, that’s not what I did.” She climbed to the top stair. “And you shouldn’t have made that comment about wishing we hadn’t adopted Pepper. That’s hurtful.”

  “You know what else is ironic?” Reid hunkered back down in his chair.

  “What?”

  “That Pepper thinks you favor me when she’s so obviously your favorite.”

  “Reid, that’s not true.”

  “Mom!” Pepper called from the kitchen. “Your computer just froze.”

  “It’s time for bed anyway. Pepper, you can use this computer tomorrow,” she yelled, her voice growing shrill. She was too tired to deal with them for another second. She turned back to Reid. “I do not favor Pepper.”

  “Do you remember when I wore my socks outside and you made me buy my own?”

  She did. They were living in Portland, and he would run outside and shoot baskets in his stocking feet. “And?”

  “Pepper wears her socks outside all the time, and you don’t even tell her not to.”

  An hour later, after Rebekah had checked the horses and fed Bear, she pulled back the comforter. Clean sheets. Rebekah’s eyes filled with tears; Elise had done too much. Just as she settled her head on her pillow, Bear began to bark, and a car turned into the driveway. A door slammed.

  Rebekah hopped out of bed and stood at the window. Patrick grabbed his laptop and bag out of the trunk and tipped his head back, scanning the house. Did he see her? Could she fake being asleep? She climbed back into bed.

  He would double-check that both doors were locked, drink a glass of water, and make sure the dryer was off before coming to bed. Five minutes later she heard his footsteps on the stairway and then across the landing. “Rebekah, I know you’re awake.” He turned on the lamp. “All you had to do was answer your phone.”

  She turned toward him. “I know. I should have.”

  “I was frantic.” He sat down on the bed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t imagine the things that ran through my head.”

  Actually, she could.

  He stood and hung up his jacket. “I thought we had decided we wouldn’t ask Polly about donating a kidney.”

  “You decided that.” She sat cross-legged on the bed. “But I shouldn’t have asked Polly.”

  Patrick’s hand froze on the top button of his shirt.

  “You were right.” She knew he liked to hear those words, but she didn’t often say them. “I need to trust God for a kidney. I’m just not sure that I can.”

  Patrick sat down on the bed. “Maybe it would be easier for you to trust if I stopped worrying so much.”

  Rebekah nodded.

  “I’m sorry.” He put his arm around her.

  She shook her head and began to cry.

  Patrick handed her a tissue and took her in his arms. “It will be all right.”

  “I know.”

  “Why are you crying?”

  Rebekah shook her head. She leaned against his shoulder, soaking his shirt. Fear. That’s why she was crying. She was so afraid.

  The smells of the shop comforted Rebekah—the Murphy Oil Soap she used on the old oak floors, the hint of coffee, and the crisp scent of paper. She flipped the sign from Closed to Open. Sandi had moved the patriotic section to the front. It looked good.

  Rebekah turned on the computer to make fliers for the Thursday morning class and Midnight Madness. What should she teach on Thursday? Creating timeless albums? Was it possible? Pepper’s first album was full of gingham-patterned paper that Rebekah now despised, but maybe in another decade she would find it endearing.

  Elise hurried by the window and through the door of the shop. “I had a few errands to run and thought I would stop by. How are you doing?”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Not so fine.” Rebekah opened Word to make the flier. “I’m in a funk.”

  Elise unwound her green scarf from around her neck.

  “Listen to what the transplant coordinator told me this morning.” Rebekah stepped away from the computer. “We were chatting on the phone about the list and surgery. She said that kidney transplants are considered elective.”

  “What?” Elise held her scarf in midair. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Rebekah continued, “You have to have a liver, pancreas, heart, and lungs to live, but you can survive on dialysis. So technically almost any surgery can bump a kidney transplant.”

  “Except nose jobs, right?”

  Rebekah nodded. “And liposuction.”

  Elise unzipped her jacket.

  “Oh, well, surgery is a ways off.” Rebekah shrugged. “Now we’ll wait and see what happens with the list and work toward dialysis, just in case.”

  “Have you talked to Patrick?”

  “I apologized. He came home late last night.” Rebekah leaned against the counter. “What are you up to today? Besides errands.”

  “I’m going to volunteer in the library this afternoon—after I run into Salem to get money pouches for the boys to carry their passports.”

&
nbsp; Rebekah picked up a box of Disney products off the floor. Maybe she could host a card-making class that would appeal to Pepper and her friends. “Check on Pepper after lunch, would you? We had a rough morning.”

  Elise nodded and flung her scarf back around her neck.

  Rebekah’s cell rang. “Mom, I’m not feeling so hot.” Pepper’s voice fell flat.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t concentrate, and I feel kind of sick. And itchy.”

  “I’m on my way.” Rebekah stuffed the phone into her pocket.

  “Is Pepper sick? I can watch the shop while you go get her.” Elise pulled her scarf off again.

  “But you need to get to Salem.”

  “No. I can go tonight.”

  “I’ll bring her here and see how bad she is.” Rebekah grabbed her purse and hurried out the door.

  A few minutes later she stood in the middle of the school hall during passing period. Reid and Michael jostled each other.

  “Hey, Reid,” she called.

  He turned.

  “Pepper’s sick.”

  He shrugged.

  “I came to get her.”

  “She’s faking. She probably just wants to go shopping.” He hurried ahead, slapping Michael on the back.

  Rebekah had volunteered in the school last year, but that felt like ages ago. She felt lost as she hurried into the office. “Hi, sweet pea. Do you feel like you can go back to the shop with me?”

  Pepper nodded.

  “How much water have you had today?”

  Pepper gathered her coat and backpack. “None.”

  “Did you drink much last night?”

  “Not really.”

  “What did you have for breakfast?” Rebekah led the way through the crowded hall.

  “A donut.”

  Rebekah stopped. “Where did you get a donut?”

  “From Ainsley.”

  “Pepper, you can’t eat that stuff. I thought you made yourself whole-wheat toast.”

  “I didn’t have time to eat it.” Pepper wiggled into her silver ski coat as they headed out the front door of the school. “This morning was crazy.”

  It had been. It had taken Rebekah a few extra minutes to pull herself out of bed and to wake the kids since they didn’t get up when their alarms buzzed. Then the drain on the trough had plugged, and water had spilled over into the field. Bear had rolled in the mud and then splattered Pepper while she let the horses out, so she had to change—all before the bus arrived.

  “Let’s get you something to eat and plenty of water. You’re probably just dehydrated and overloaded with sugar.” Rebekah kicked through a pile of wet maple leaves in the parking lot and reached behind the driver’s seat of the truck for a bottle of water. She tossed it to Pepper. “I have oatmeal at the shop and some apples.”

  Rebekah pulled onto Main Street. “Look, they’re putting up the Christmas decorations,” Pepper said, pointing ahead. “Who’s at the shop, Mom?”

  “Elise.”

  “That was nice of her.”

  Elise was turning out to be a dependable friend after all. Rebekah smiled as she parked under a garland of greenery and white lights wound around the pole outside the shop.

  Pepper turned around in her seat. “Dad just pulled up behind us.”

  Rebekah climbed out of the truck. “How come you’re not at work?”

  “I decided to take comp time.” Patrick pulled his jacket from the car. “What’s wrong with Pepper?”

  “She’s not feeling well.”

  “I had a donut for breakfast.” Pepper grabbed her backpack from the truck and headed into the store.

  “Why did she have a donut?”

  Rebekah opened her mouth and then closed it. “Never mind.”

  “When is her next appointment?” Patrick’s pitch rose.

  “Tomorrow.” Rebekah hit the automatic lock on her key.

  Patrick opened the door to the shop. “I’ll take her.”

  “You said you would stop worrying.” Rebekah lowered her voice. Pepper ran up the stairs.

  “I’m not worrying.”

  Would it make it harder for Patrick if he took Pepper? Would he start obsessing about what percentage she was at? where she was on the list? her diet and exercise? Rebekah turned toward her husband. “They’ll check her kidney function. We’ll know how much closer she is to dialysis. They’ll probably want to go ahead and put a shunt in her arm, just so she’s ready.”

  “They’ll do the shunt tomorrow?”

  “No. They’ll schedule that for later.”

  “I’ll take her home now.” Patrick started toward the stairs. “Come on, Pepper.”

  “Make sure she gets some good food.”

  Patrick nodded. “How soon will she have to start dialysis?”

  Rebekah shrugged. “Ask tomorrow.”

  Turn up the heat.” Elise closed the garage door and headed for the kitchen. “And turn on the lights.” She hated a cold, dark house. She and Mark had picked Michael up after basketball practice and headed to Salem for dinner and the money pouches.

  Michael rushed through the house, turning on lights as he went. Mark headed down the hall.

  “Don’t get on the computer.” Elise put her purse on the dining room table.

  “I haven’t had a chance to check my e-mail all day. The Internet was down during study hall.”

  “Check it tomorrow. It’s too late tonight.”

  “It will only take a minute.”

  “Mark, don’t get on the computer.”

  He stood in the study doorway, his hand raised against the doorframe, his bangs hanging in his eyes.

  “Mom, I have a book report due tomorrow.” Michael sat at the dining room table and dug into his backpack.

  “Why didn’t you start it earlier?”

  “I did. I finished it Saturday.”

  Elise turned toward the hallway. “Does that mean Mark has a book report due too?”

  Michael nodded.

  “Mark,” Elise yelled, “did you finish your book report?”

  “Almost.”

  “Come show me.”

  “Just a minute.”

  Michael pulled everything from his backpack and then put books, notebooks, folders, pens, and pencils back in one at a time. “The thing I don’t like about going to a small school is having the same classes as Mark.” He zipped the pocket and stood.

  “Why?”

  “None of the teachers like him. It’s embarrassing.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder.

  Elise headed to the family room. “I told you not to check your e-mail.”

  Mark quickly minimized the screen. “I’m not. I’m working on my report.”

  Twenty minutes later Elise checked the family room again. No Mark. She climbed the stairs. His door was closed. She opened it. His room was dark, and he was asleep or at least pretending to be.

  Elise left the school library at 3:10, as the last bell rang, and searched for Mark in the hall. She couldn’t find him. Michael hurried toward the gym for practice, and she followed him, but he scooted into the locker room. She headed back to Mr. Jenkins’s room and found him sitting at his computer. She cleared her throat.

  “Mrs. Shelton.” He stood.

  “I wanted to check on Mark’s book report. Did he turn it in?”

  Mr. Jenkins shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. “Here’s Michael’s. No, I don’t see Mark’s.”

  “May he turn it in tomorrow?”

  “Has he completed it?”

  Elise nodded. “He was working on it last night.”

  “If it’s done, I’ll accept it tomorrow.”

  Elise hurried to the Volvo and scanned up and down the streets as she drove home. Gray clouds billowed on the horizon against the tree-covered hills. She had given the boys a ride this morning, and Mark had told her his book report was done, but she hadn’t had time to check it.

  Where was Mark now?

  She park
ed the car in front of the house and pulled the mail from the box. Three bills and a postcard from Ted from Heidelberg.

  She sat at the dining room table, eyed the box of photos, and sighed.

  “Hi.” Mark came through the front door. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” Elise turned her head. “Why didn’t you turn in your book report?”

  “I did.”

  “Mark, I checked with Mr. Jenkins. You didn’t.”

  “He must have lost it already.”

  “Mark, show me your report.”

  He grabbed a handful of cookies and turned to go upstairs. “I told you I turned it in.”

  Elise followed him, swinging her arms back and forth as she climbed the stairs, and knocked on his door. No answer. She opened it. He stood with his window open. “Mark, reprint your report and turn it in tomorrow.”

  He dropped a handful of cookie crumbs onto the ledge. “I don’t think I saved it.”

  “Then rewrite it and turn it in tomorrow.”

  “Could you please leave? That song sparrow in the birch tree wants some crumbs, and you’re scaring him.”

  Elise hurried out of the pharmacy with a bottle of Dramamine for the plane ride and pulled the hood of her parka over the top of her head. Mark often got nauseated when they traveled. She would give him a dose when they left Portland on their direct flight to Frankfurt. She hoped he would sleep for a good chunk of the way.

  Her anger at Mark had driven her out of the house and on a walk downtown. The last light of the day began to fade.

  It had been raining for the last week. The pungent smell of wood smoke mixed with the scent of the damp air and earth. She marched along in front of the Scrap Shack. Pepper waved frantically and ran to the door. “Hi!”

  Elise slipped through the door and flipped her hood off.

  “Elise.” Rebekah stood. Sandi sat at a table, pulling merchandise from boxes.

  Elise picked up a package with a little gadget inside. “Fastenater,” she read. “What is that?”

  “It’s like a stapler.” Pepper held up a light blue metal object. “But the staples are decorative, kind of like brads.”

  “How is everyone?” Elise unwound her scarf.

  “Fine.” Pepper held out her arm. “I got this new dealy at the doctor.”