God In The Kitchen

by Brooke Williams

  We made a color chart on which we had hoped to keep track of how much money we had raised and how much we had left to go. I had even contacted the hospital to get an exact figure so we would have the goal right in front of us. I could already see that the chart would have to be ignored until later in the day, when we had more help on hand. It was going to take every pair of hands I had asked to come. And then some.

  As the news crew got their establishing shots and I heard the reporter talk about how hot it was and how good a tall glass of lemonade would taste, I took a moment to think of my dad. Had he been around, his boisterous laugh would have been lighting up the air as he squeezed as many lemons as he could behind that table. He would have done anything to help anyone, even a little boy he didn’t know. If he hadn’t been behind the table, you better believe he would have at least been in the line, buying his own expensive glass of lemonade. He probably would have even gone back for seconds.

  As I pictured his smiling face and his big, wiry beard, I felt as if he was next to me for the first time in a long time. It had been a while since I’d had time to think about him at all and he always felt slightly out of reach since I could no longer pick up the phone and talk to him. But in that moment, it was as if he was right there next to me, urging me on. I knew without a doubt that what I was doing for Ian was making him proud.

  “We’re ready for you over here,” the producer from the local news show called and I jogged over to the camera, ready for my close up, as they say. I still wasn’t comfortable with cameras, but I was very comfortable with what we were doing that day and I was positive my passion played out well on camera. When they were done with me, the cameraman headed over to the line behind the table, which had only grown longer.

  I overheard a variety of things as he asked various people why they had come out that day.

  “We were at the farmer’s market and we saw the signs,” one of them said.

  “We listen to Jared Jones every morning and he said this was the place to be,” another said.

  “It’s for a little boy,” a motherly voice stated. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my own son and I wanted to help this mother’s son if I could. It’s the least I can do.”

  I hoped her comments made it on the air in front of the others. Whatever the reason they came, however, they had come. And by the looks of the line, which had now curled down the parking lot, they were still coming.

  By noon we had emptied one of the tubs of lemonade and the extra pairs of hands I had asked for had arrived. Lemons were being squeezed furiously to keep up with the demand and I was starting to wonder if I had made a mistake by not simply buying some mixes to add to water. It was too late now and so far, we were keeping our heads above the water.

  I heard a slight rumbling go through the big line and I glanced up from my own station at the ice bin where I was trying to chip some of the ice away and into cups. Chloe and Ian were making their way to the table and some of the people in the line had obviously recognized them, though they had never appeared on TV themselves.

  I remembered the descriptions I had given on the radio and there was no mistaking the wispy blonde hair on Ian’s head and the bright blue eyes that blinked from beneath his lashes. His mother was also carrying him and his skin looked extra pale. And they weren’t getting in line for their own glass. All of those things quickly added up and people began to talk.

  Chloe made it to the booth and I quickly placed my arm around her shoulders and drew her behind the table.

  “Jared, your hands are freezing!” she said pulling away a little with surprise.

  “Sorry,” I said, gesturing to the ice bin at my feet. “I’ve been working with the ice.”

  “I can tell,” she replied and then she looked back at the line. “This is amazing! Are all these people here for us?”

  “They’re here for him,” I said, ruffling Ian’s hair as he gave me a shy smile from his mother’s shoulder.

  “Music Man,” he said, pointing a thin finger at my shoulder.

  “Hey buddy. You thirsty?” Surely we could spare a glass of lemonade for our star…the reason we were here.

  Ian nodded and I reached around a worker and grabbed a fresh glass from the table, handing it to Ian.

  “Mmm,” he said as he took his first gulp. “Num!”

  Chloe smiled. “I hope we’re not late. I thought we were supposed to get here at noon?” the question in her eyes told me that she was worried she had gotten the time wrong.

  “That’s right, we officially opened at noon,” I told her as I wiped the sweat from my forehead. She was right, my hands were cold and they felt good against my hot skin. “We opened early because there was already a line and we had enough lemonade to help things along.”

  “Wow, I just can’t believe it,” she said, looking out to the people again. The mild line that had started to form at 11 was not a mass of people and it snaked back and forth across the parking lot. Fists were extending over the counter with wads of bills and lemonade was going back over. It was amazing what modern technology and word of mouth had made possible in one short week.

  “Would you mind talking with some of the people out there?” I asked nodding to the crowd. “I think it would really help them endure the wait to hear what you have to say. You know, just thank them for coming, point Ian out, that sort of thing.”

  Chloe looked worriedly down at Ian, who had not yet come up from air from his glass of lemonade.

  “He doesn’t have to go with you,” I said. “I know it would be too hot out there in the sun for him. He can stay back here in the shade. We have a fan over there and he can help me by unwrapping the glasses. We could really use the help and I think he’d have fun.”

  “He DOES love to take things apart,” Chloe said as I felt her guard lowering. “You want to stay here with Ja…I mean, the Music Man and help for a bit while Mommy goes and talks to some of the nice people?”

  Ian nodded, his lemonade almost gone and Chloe lowered him to the ground.

  “Here you go, little man,” I said, leading him over to a cooler. “Just have a seat right on top of here and I’ll get you some glasses. You can unwrap them and set them right next to you, okay?”

  “Okay!” Ian shouted as if it was the most excitement he had seen all week. I wondered if he even realized that this even was all for him.

  Ian did a nice job unwrapping the glasses, though he was painstakingly slow and I began to chip away at the ice again while trying to keep an eye on both him and Chloe. Occasionally, I would make conversation with Ian about trains, his favorite Mickey cartoons, what he liked to do at the park and other things that I thought would interest a little man his age. Mostly, I let him do his work while I did mine and we were both happy. It was a strange, comfortable silence. As if we had known each other so long and so well that we did not have to talk in order to enjoy each other’s company. I wondered if that was what it would feel like to have a son. I would talk to him, of course, but when there was nothing more to say, it was okay to be silent as well.

  I smiled as I glanced up at Ian, his blonde hair shaking over a particularly stubborn package of glasses. Chloe looked like she was doing well with the crowd. She was working her way back through the line, smiling, shaking hands, laughing on some occasions and looking serious on others. She seemed to be a natural and I wondered if she should have gone into politics instead of waitressing at the diner. But then I reminded myself that she would do absolutely anything for her son, whether she was comfortable with it or not.

  After nearly an hour, Chloe returned to the booth and took one look at Ian, who had grown even more slowly at his task.

  “I better get you home, buddy,” she said, bending down in front of him.

  “I’m having fun,” he informed her without a hint of a whine.

  “I’m so glad,” she said, “but you need to rest.”

  Ian nodded and put down a half empty package of cups, opening his arms to his mother who
lifted him onto her hip with ease.

  “I’m sorry we have to go,” she said.

  “I completely understand,” I said as I stood beside her. “If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you are always going to do what’s best for your son.”

  Chloe nodded. “It’s all I know how to do.”

  “And it’s one of the things I love about you most,” I said, not even realizing I had used the word love.

  Chloe’s eyes grew tender and I almost thought she was going to say something back, but then a shadow crossed her face and she closed her mouth again before anything came out.

  “Truly, thank you for everything,” she said after a few beats had passed. “We’ll try to come back closer to closing time and see how things ended up.”

  “That’d be great,” I said and I watched them walk away, Ian already asleep on his mom’s shoulder and Chloe nodding and thanking people as she went.

  I was about to bend over the ice bin yet again, my hands half frozen from the hours I had already spent there when I thought I spotted a blonde ponytail near the back of the line. There could be hundreds of people in the city that had a blonde ponytail, but how many of them would wear a flannel shirt on this hot, sunny afternoon?

  I shook my head. All of the ice had frozen my thoughts and I was starting to imagine things. Even if there was someone back there with a ponytail and a flannel shirt, it didn’t really mean anything. Did it? It could be anyone. Or it could be no one. It most certainly wasn’t him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The rest of the lemonade stand went just as well as the first few hours. I was amazed at how well the community had come out to support one of its own. I got to hear a lot of similar stories about hardships that people had been through in the past and the fact that now, all they wanted to do was help someone else get through a rough time.

  When Chloe returned at 5 with Ian in tow, we were still serving beverages, though the line was finally starting to dwindle.

  “I’m sure you’re curious about the results,” I said in way of greeting.

  “Sure,” Chloe said as Ian ran his peeling train up her neck and through her braid.

  “We don’t have a clue,” I said with a chuckle. “Sorry.”

  Chloe looked at the few people that were still left in the line. “I can certainly see why and I completely understand. It’s not a problem at all. Just let me know when you know.”

  I stood from my station by the trash bags. I had finally stopped chipping ice and was beginning the clean up process. I placed one hand on each of Chloe’s arms and looked her in the eyes. “It went well. Really well.”

  “Can we go to the concert now?” Ian asked, breaking the short spell Chloe and I had going as we gazed at one another.

  “Is that all you think I’m good for?” I asked as I turned my attention to Ian.

  Ian vehemently shook his head. “No,” he said, his blonde hair still waving, though his head had stopped shaking. “You also have good lemonade.

  I laughed. “You want some more?”

  Ian nodded and made a train whistle sound.

  “Coming right up,” I said, reaching around a few of the workers who had stuck it out the entire day and grabbed one of the few remaining glasses.

  As Ian chugged his second glass of the cold liquid that day, I told Chloe how the remainder of the day would go. “We’re going to shut down as soon as these people get through. There’s not too much to clean up, but we want to make sure we leave things the way we found them. We’ll take the supplies we brought from the station back there and do the counting. It might get kind of late since we’re getting a later start than we had thought. Do you want me to just call you tomorrow?”

  “I don’t think I can wait that long,” Chloe said, wiping a bead of sweat from the lemonade glass away from her neck after it dripped off of Ian’s cup. “Would you mind stopping by tonight?”

  “Not at all,” I said since I had hoped that was what she would say anyways. Ian would likely be in bed and after I gave her the news, maybe we would finally get a chance to talk. Even though I felt close to her, I really hardly knew her and I was going to want to know where I stood relatively soon.

  Chloe looked relieved. She had played it cool with the crowd earlier, but I could see that she needed to know if we had the money Ian needed for his surgery sooner rather than later. The anticipation was killing her.

  “I don’t know how comfortable you are with this,” I said, “but the local news crew that was here earlier is back. Do you want to talk to them? With or without Ian?”

  “I get to be on TV?” Ian said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as some of the lemonade clung to his upper lip.

  Chloe looked at him in a thoughtful manner. “I do want to say thank you,” she said as she glanced at the camera that was being set up a few feet away from the stand. “Do you think they could make it quick? I don’t want to put too much strain on him,” she said rolling her eyes towards Ian.

  I nodded. “I’ll tell them they only get a minute,” I said and walked over to the news crew, Chloe following closely behind.

  After I had informed them that the mom and son who were the key to the whole event were not only there, but willing to talk to them, they were practically drooling. They didn’t care if they only had a minute, they wanted whatever they could get.

  I stood to the side and watched as the reporter thrust the microphone into Chloe’s face and Ian smiled. “What do you have to say about today’s events?” she asked.

  “I’m just so grateful for everyone coming out here in this heat,” Chloe said, turning her attention to Ian as he hammed it up for the camera. “We don’t know the results yet, but whatever they are, we couldn’t be happier with the way things went. I can’t say thank you enough to the radio station, the sponsors, and especially the people that simply got thirsty today and bought lemonade. My son has a long life ahead of him because of all of you,” she concluded with tears glistening in her eyes.

  Because of that last statement I knew Chloe was optimistic about the outcome. I also knew that what I thought about her initially was correct. It didn’t matter if we had enough money or not…she was going to find a way to get that surgery with whatever we had to offer her.

  “Do you have anything to add?” the reporter asked Ian as he placed his nose directly on the microphone.

  “I had two glasses of lemonade,” he stated in the loudest voice I had ever heard him use. “It was really good.”

  The reporter laughed and Chloe took a step back, thanking them for their help in getting the word out. She returned to the booth with Ian and I asked the news crew if they had any other questions and promised another interview once we knew the results of the sales that day.

  Chloe and Ian helped clean up until everything was loaded into the station vehicle and then she slung Ian over her shoulder and headed to her own car.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she mouthed over the already sleeping Ian. She was right, it had been a big day for him. He had likely missed a nap or two and he did a lot of things he wasn’t used to doing. But having him there, even for a little while, was a great boost to the event.

  I raised my hand in a silent wave and watched her walk back to her car, wishing that I could just hop in and go back to the apartment with them right then. But I couldn’t see Chloe again until I had something to tell her. It was time to go back to the station to count.

  I let the rest of the promotions crew bring in the station items and selfishly grabbed the moneybox and that was it. I hauled the box into the conference room and started separating bills into piles. After half an hour, I had help, but I was happy to do it on my own.

  Once the bills were separated, the counting began. After the first round, we decided to count again, positive there was some kind of mistake. The lemonade stand had done well. We were sure of that. But had we really raised thousands of dollars in a few hours? I couldn’t wait to tell Chloe, but I had to stay unt
il the second count was complete.

  When it was confirmed that we had only been a few dollars off the first time, the promotions director filled out a bank slip and vowed to take the cash to the bank to deposit into the station account first thing Monday morning. We would then write a check out to the hospital for the amount needed.

  Before the bills were collected and placed together back in the lock box for safety, I was out the door. I could wait no longer to tell Chloe the news.

  I arrived on her doorstep by 10 p.m. and realized as I knocked that I was suddenly very tired. I had spent the day on my feet, working hard, and it had been emotionally wearing as well.

  The door flew open after my first light rap and Chloe stood before me in a worn t-shirt and cotton shorts. Her hair was down and very wavy from the braided style it had held earlier in the day. It cascaded around her as her cheeks flushed and she said, “Come in,” as quickly as she had opened the door.

  I had all intentions of settling myself on the couch and teasing her for a while before telling her the final figure, but once I saw the anxious look on her face, I just couldn’t do it.

  “We did it,” I said, placing my arm around her shoulder as we walked towards the small living room. “The money. It’s all there. More, in fact.”

  “More?” Chloe asked, the shock on her face beginning to settle into her body and creating a tremor in her hands.

  “Lots more. You know I’ve been talking with the hospital and I know the exact amount for the surgery. Chloe…we nearly doubled it.”

  “You…you what? There’s…there’s over $100,000?”

  I nodded, turning to face her so I could see her eyes instead of just her profile. “We raised the money for you, Chloe. For you and Ian. The surgery will be paid for and you can do with the rest of the money what you please. You could start a college fund for Ian…buy him any train he wants…put a down payment on a house…whatever you’d like.”