Scrap Everything

by Leslie Gould

  The boys stood side by side.

  “So nice to meet you.” Darla closed Pepper’s scrapbook.

  Pepper stood. “Mark rides with us sometimes.”

  “Once.” Mark flipped his bangs again. “I rode once.”

  “Whatever.” Pepper rolled her eyes.

  “What do you hear from your dad?” Rebekah took the scrapbook from her mom.

  “He arrived.” Michael shrugged his shoulders. “He’s fine.”

  “He just IM’d me last night.” Mark crossed his arms. “He said he would e-mail tonight.”

  The door buzzed again, and Rebekah hurried downstairs to wait on a customer. Another last-minute gift certificate. She expected the boys to follow her, but they stayed. Pepper’s giggle floated down. Mark was probably teasing her. That was good; maybe he’d lightened up since Monday morning.

  “So it’s your father who just got sent to Iraq.” Rebekah’s mother’s voice always carried. “Pepper was telling me about you.”

  Another giggle.

  Rebekah started back up the stairs.

  “We talk quite a bit. He has a satellite phone, and we e-mail all the time.” Michael sat down on the couch next to Rebekah’s mother.

  “Now what does your father do?”

  “He’s an anesthesiologist.” Mark spun the rack of sports stickers around.

  “Oh, a doctor.”

  Rebekah knew her mother would be impressed.

  “Too bad he’s not home. Maybe he could find Pepper a kidney.” Darla twirled her snowflake earring.

  “Mom.” Rebekah’s boots clicked on the last stair. “Doctors don’t find kidneys.” Especially not army anesthesiologists.

  “Actually, he did find Pepper a kidney.” Mark stepped away from the rack.

  “Yeah, right.” Pepper sat back down by her grandmother.

  Mark flicked his head. “At least he found someone with the same blood type.”

  “Who?”

  Mark turned toward Rebekah and said, “My mom.”

  Elise finished up her shopping—trying to compensate for the last-minute change in plans—and decided to swing by the Scrap Shack. It was only a couple of minutes until closing time.

  “Mom!” Michael said as she walked in the door. He glanced back at Rebekah and shoved something into his pocket.

  “Hi, guys. What are you doing here?” Elise wore wool pants, black granny boots, and a wool coat.

  “We just stopped by.” Mark pulled his hood onto his head.

  “To see Pepper,” Rebekah said. She was smiling, but Elise could see that something was bothering her.

  Pepper stood at the railing but walked away when Elise looked up.

  “I hope they weren’t too much trouble,” Elise said.

  “Not at all.” Rebekah smiled stiffly and then said, with obvious reluctance, “Oh, and they met my mom. She’s upstairs. Would you like to meet her?”

  “Sure. Mark and Michael, wait if you want a ride.” Elise followed Rebekah up the stairs slowly. Her back was hurting more than ever.

  Mark grunted and stayed by the door. Michael followed Rebekah and Elise up the stairs. Rebekah made the introductions.

  “So,” Darla said to Elise with a vinegar smile, “you’re the one with B blood.”

  “Mom!” Rebekah said. “It’s none of our business—”

  “I’m not saying it is,” Darla said. “I was just making sure that Mark had the story straight …”

  Elise didn’t hear anything else. She mumbled an apology, then rushed down the stairs and out the door. The boys followed her to the car.

  Elise pulled the Volvo onto the street. She wanted to hide. She wanted to go far, far away. She would talk with Mark about blabbing her blood type to Rebekah later, after she calmed down.

  “Mom.” Mark slumped in the front seat. “I was IM’ing Ainsley, and she said that Sandi told Pepper that Dad volunteered to go to Iraq.”

  Elise gripped the steering wheel. “It’s complicated.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Mark asked.

  “I was going to. He figured if he didn’t go to Iraq now, he would get orders in a year or so. This way he could go with his old unit, and then his service would be over.”

  “You always said he wouldn’t volunteer.”

  She rolled through the four-way stop. “That was our agreement.” The only way Mark could have found out about her blood type was if Ted had told him. “How did you know about my blood type?”

  Mark shrugged.

  “Mark, my blood type is none of your business.”

  “It’s the same as my blood type, so I think it is my business.”

  Elise slowed. “Did Dad tell you that?”

  “No.”

  “Then how did you find out?”

  “I have my ways.” Mark crossed his arms.

  “E-mail.” Michael slumped against the backseat.

  “Pardon?”

  “He checks your e-mails.”

  “How?”

  “He looks at the preview pane without actually opening the message.”

  She pulled over to the side of the street. “Mark, you have no right to read my e-mail.” What else had she and Ted e-mailed back and forth? “And I couldn’t give Pepper a kidney even if I was a match.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve told you, and now it’s even worse. Dad is in Iraq. You and Michael, if you haven’t noticed, still need a parent around.”

  “That’s lame.” Mark scowled.

  “And I’ve had some medical problems—my back injuries.”

  Mark nodded toward the white pharmacy sack between the seats. “Here we go again.”

  “Mark.” She missed the turn toward their house and turned right to go around the block. Now she would need a password on her e-mail account. She would have to have Ted tell her how to do that—or ask Michael. “The bottom line is, you may not go on my e-mail account; it’s private.” She stopped at the four-way stop.

  “It’s private,” Mark mocked and opened the car door. “I’m walking.” He slammed the door and shoved his hands in his sweatshirt pockets.

  Michael scooted toward his door.

  “Michael.”

  “I’ll just keep him company.” He opened the door and then paused. “Mom, Rebekah said she would never expect you to donate a kidney. She wasn’t upset that you hadn’t said anything about your blood type.”

  Elise gripped the steering wheel.

  “Really, Mom. Don’t be mad.” He closed his door and ran after Mark.

  Elise took a pain pill, changed into a pair of sweatpants, and sat down on her bed, her eyes falling on the family picture on the dresser, taken just last year in Colorado as they snowshoed near Winter Park. Ted stood with his arms around the boys; Mark’s face was tanned from snowboarding, and Michael grinned like a goofball. Elise stood a step away—she had just handed the camera to a stranger and asked him to snap the photo. The Rockies towered behind them, sunshine glinting off the snowy peaks. She turned the photo facedown. She would take a nap and forget about Ted being in Iraq. She would forget about Pepper and the B blood that coursed through both of their bodies. She would forget about Michael’s disappointment and Mark’s anger.

  “Mom.” Michael pushed open her door. “I really want to go to Reid’s. He said I could spend the night. His mom and dad say it’s fine.”

  “No. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. They deserve some family time.” She pulled back her covers. “I’m going to read for a while.”

  “There’s nothing to do.” Michael yanked the door shut.

  She opened Their Eyes Were Watching God. Janie and Tea Cake had just survived the hurricane. Did she want to keep reading? Her vision blurred. She had to read through the hard part about Tea Cake to get to the end, to find Janie transformed and independent, changed by love.

  Mark stood over her. The room was dark, and her hand still clutched the book. “I was IM’ing Pepper. She said that they’re going to ride tomorrow and invited us to
come out because Rebekah is closing the shop at noon.”

  “No.” Elise’s voice sounded far, far away. “I’m sorry. It’s too close to Christmas.” She rolled away from him. “And stop IM’ing.”

  Ted’s time in Germany was supposed to be an epilogue to their army story. She hadn’t bargained for a whole new chapter. She hadn’t bargained for Iraq. She pulled the blanket over her head.

  Sometime later Mark dropped a bag on the bed beside her. “Rebekah brought this by. It’s fudge. She asked if we were coming out tomorrow.”

  Elise shook her head.

  The next time she opened her eyes it was pitch dark. “Dad’s on the phone.” Michael dropped the receiver beside her head.

  The red dots on the clock came into focus: 10:15 p.m. “Hello?”

  “Michael said your back is out. Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Did she sound as groggy as she felt? “Are you okay?”

  “Safe and sound.”

  She exhaled and sat up against the headboard. Had she taken one or two pain pills? It felt like three. “Ted.” She felt loopy. “You know when I was pregnant with Mark and you were gone and my back still hurt from the car accident the year before?” She paused. “Do you think the pills hurt him?”

  “How many pills?”

  “Just one at a time. A few times.”

  “Hurt him? How?”

  “You know—how he doesn’t like school, how he gets so angry.”

  “Elise, the pills probably didn’t hurt him.”

  “I shouldn’t have taken the pills.” She wanted to go back to sleep.

  “Other things have made him angry, and lots of kids don’t like school.” Ted paused. “Michael told me what happened at Rebekah’s shop.”

  “Ted, I’m not donating a kidney; Rebekah doesn’t even want me to. I have our boys to take care of, remember?” Elise scooted back down on the bed.

  “The pills might have hurt your liver but not your kidneys.”

  “Ted, stop. You’re not here. You don’t get a say in this.”

  Silence.

  “I’ll try to call on Christmas Day,” he finally said. His voice sounded hurt.

  “Talk to you then.” When she woke again, it was 6 a.m. She patted Ted’s side of the bed before she remembered—it was Christmas Eve. Ted was in Iraq.

  “I’m going to take a shower.” Elise shuffled down the hall to her room.

  “May I go to Reid’s?” Michael asked, following her.

  Elise bent over, slightly. “His grandparents are there.”

  “So?”

  “They need family time.” Elise sat on her bed.

  “He said it’s fine.” Michael pushed her door open.

  “I’m sorry; not today.”

  Michael slammed the door. Elise stood and opened it to find Mark smirking down the hall, pointing at Michael. The cords in Elise’s neck tightened to match the muscles in her back. Why hadn’t she insisted last summer that they move to Seattle?

  She stood in front of her dresser and searched the mirror. Her hazel eyes were too big against her pale face, tiny wrinkles gathered around her downturned mouth, and her hair was dull.

  “Merry Christmas,” she muttered out loud. John had graciously invited them to spend Christmas with him as soon as he found out Ted was going to Iraq. Elise sat on her bed again. She hoped John could contain his pride. She shook her head. He had to be worried, just as she was.

  And Sandi would be there. Had they planned a private Christmas? Just the two of them? She hadn’t been willing to share Christmas with John, but he had been quick to include them.

  Rebekah scooped an armful of gold wrapping paper off the living room floor and shoveled it into the fireplace. Her mother picked a theme every year; this time it was gold snowflakes. The fire curled the edges of the paper and quickly consumed the wrappings.

  “We shouldn’t burn that.” Patrick wadded more paper into a pile. “I heard on the radio that it can start a roof fire. I’ll get a bag.”

  Pepper tore paper from a small box. “Oh, Grandma!” She pulled out an iPod. “It’s just what I wanted.”

  Rebekah shook her head. She had told her mother not to. Reid read a gold snowflake tag, smiled at his grandmother and then his grandfather, and shredded the paper off a Dell computer box. “A new PC. My own PC.” He smirked at Pepper. “Dad, it has a DVD burner.”

  “Really?” Patrick smashed wrapping paper into the bag.

  “Thanks, Grandma and Grandpa!” Reid wadded the paper into a ball.

  Rebekah’s father stood.

  “Bill, what do you need?” Patrick asked.

  “More coffee.”

  “I’ll get it for you.” Rebekah headed into the kitchen with her father’s mug; he followed.

  His dark hair had grayed, but his step was still spry and long. “All these gizmos.” He winked at Rebekah. “I have no idea what they even are. Your mother seems to know, but I’m out of touch. It makes me miss the ranch, the simpler days. If I was lucky, I might get a new hat. That was a big Christmas.”

  “That putter you got looks pretty nice.” Rebekah poured the coffee.

  “It is. I picked it out myself.” Her father winked again. “You know, honey, I’d do anything to give you what you need for Christmas, what you really want.”

  Rebekah nodded.

  “A kidney for Pepper. That’s what would really make this a happy day.” Her dad drew her close and pulled her head against his shoulder.

  Rebekah plunged the meat thermometer into the prime rib. It was their customary mouth-watering Christmas dinner, a tradition held over from holidays on the ranch. Her eyes and nose smarted from the heat of the oven and the richness of the beef. Another fifteen minutes and it would be done. Rebekah pulled out the crystal from the top shelf of the antique hutch.

  Her mother took each goblet and set it on the breakfast bar. “I noticed it was a lean Christmas for you and Patrick. You didn’t get the kids much, and you didn’t get each other anything.”

  “We’re trying to be frugal, planning ahead for Pepper’s transplant.” Rebekah climbed down from the stepstool.

  “But you have insurance, right?”

  Rebekah nodded. “And Medicare. They have a special program for transplants. But I won’t be able to work, and I should pay Sandi while she fills in for me—and whoever else I need to hire. Plus we’ll have copays on all of Pepper’s antirejection medication.”

  “A few copays can’t be too much.”

  “It adds up. She’ll have to take over thirty medications.”

  “Good grief.” Darla swung a towel over her shoulder. “I wish I could help, but we’ve had some unexpected expenses ourselves.”

  “It’s fine, Mom. We can handle this. We just need to be careful.” Her father had sold his parents’ ranch in Montana several years ago and used the money to buy a home on a golf course outside Phoenix. Surely the ranch money wasn’t all gone.

  “Too bad the transplant didn’t work out.” Darla filled the sink with water. “I never got the scoop on your trip to Nevada. Is Pepper’s family a possibility?”

  Rebekah bumped against the stepstool. “Pepper’s family?”

  “You asked them for help, right? When you went to Nevada? Patrick called back and said that’s where you were. I didn’t ask you about it over the phone. I thought you might be embarrassed that I knew.”

  When they first took Pepper as a foster child, Rebekah’s mother would ask how “that drug baby” was doing. Then after they adopted Pepper, she would ask how the foster baby was. “Pepper,” Rebekah would say over and over. “Her name is Pepper. She is not a drug baby or a foster baby. She is our daughter.”

  For the first several years, Darla bought Reid nicer presents than Pepper. Finally Rebekah pointed it out. “Oh,” her mother had said, “I had no idea.”

  No idea. Rebekah was sure her mother had no idea now, either.

  “Pepper’s family?” Rebekah couldn’t help but play dumb.

&
nbsp; “Rebekah.” Darla squeezed soap into the water. “You know what I mean. Her real family.”

  “Her biological family? Her birth family? Is that what you mean?”

  “Of course it is. I just can’t keep track of the right terms. What did her real grandma say?”

  “Mother, you are her real grandma.”

  “I know.” Darla tossed the dishcloth into the water. “Rebekah, stop tormenting me.”

  “Neither her birth grandmother nor her birth aunt is in any shape to donate a kidney.”

  “How about to help financially?”

  “Mom.” Rebekah pulled the china from the bottom shelf of the hutch. “I would never ask them to help. Besides, they’re as poor as church mice.”

  “I didn’t know. Don’t get in a snit. It’s just that you’ve done so much for Pepper.”

  “Mother, stop.”

  Darla put the goblets in the rack, and Rebekah began to dry them.

  “Mom!” Pepper skipped into the kitchen followed by Reid, trying to imitate her. “This iPod holds a thousand songs.”

  “What a waste of money.” Reid poked Pepper in the side. “You’re just going to load it with country.”

  “Pepper, do you like country-western?” Darla dried her hands on the end of Rebekah’s dishtowel.

  “I love it!”

  “Me too!” Darla walked toward the table with two goblets. “But I never liked horses the way you do, much to your grandpa’s disappointment. Have I told you how we met?”

  Pepper shook her head and smiled at Rebekah.

  “We missed you at Thanksgiving,” Darla said as she dropped her napkin in her lap.

  “We had friends over,” Reid replied. “Their dad is in Iraq.”

  “He wasn’t there at Thanksgiving, though; he was in Germany.” Pepper took half a whole-wheat roll.

  “I met his wife. Right? And his boys.” Darla smiled.

  “You did?” Reid speared the largest slab of prime rib on the platter.

  “They were at the shop on Friday.” Rebekah sighed.

  “They were?” Reid giggled. He avoided the Scrap Shack at all costs.

  “It’s a shame Elise won’t give Pepper a kidney.” Darla smiled at Rebekah.