How Sweet It Is

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Helen didn’t answer him.

  He read a few more lines before a strange unease caused him to lower his paper. Helen sat with the knitting gone still in her lap. She wore an odd expression, one he couldn’t describe. He spoke her name, but she didn’t meet his gaze, didn’t move. She sat still, eyes unfocused.

  “Helen?” He put the paper aside. “What is it?”

  At last she spoke, but the words made no sense to him. It was as if she spoke another language.

  He got up from the chair. Ignoring the stab of pain in his back, he went to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Up close, he finally understood why her expression looked odd. The left side of her face drooped.

  “Oh, God,” he whispered, heart hammering. “Help her.”

  He turned away and went to the telephone to call for an ambulance. It seemed both forever and no time at all before he was able to return to her. By the time he did, the droop in her face had lessened some. Focus had returned to her eyes.

  “An ambulance is on its way,” he told her, once again placing his hand on her shoulder.

  “I . . . I don’t need an ambulance.”

  Realizing his knees felt weak, he sat on the sofa beside her. “They’re coming anyway.”

  “I felt odd, but whatever it was, it’s gone.” She looked at her left hand, raising it a few inches and lowering it again to her lap. “Really, Andrew. I’m all right.”

  “Just stay put.”

  “Don’t make a fuss.”

  She looked normal. She sounded normal. She talked clearly. Maybe he’d imagined the distress she’d been in minutes before.

  No. He hadn’t imagined it. Something had been very wrong, and he needed to know what.

  Chapter 9

  Jed called his mom on Saturday morning, as he’d done the previous three Saturdays since arriving in Boise.

  After the usual words of greeting, she said, “I talked to your dad earlier. He planned to go out on the sailboat this afternoon, but it’s raining cats and dogs, so he won’t be going. You should call him.”

  “Yeah.” He felt a sting of guilt, especially after his conversation with Grant the previous Sunday. “I should. I’ll do that next.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s beautiful here. Lots of sunshine. It’s supposed to hit close to seventy degrees this afternoon.” He rose from the sofa and went to the door, opening it to the pleasant weather he’d told her about.

  “Spring in Boise was always lovely.”

  “Are you ever sorry you and Dad moved?”

  “No. Except for being farther away from our families. That’s the only thing I ever minded.”

  “I’m going out to Ben’s place later today. He’s going to show me his equine therapy operation. I didn’t get a chance to look around last time I was there.”

  “Has the farm changed a lot?”

  “Judging by the photos I’ve been going through from the thirties and forties, the house is pretty much the same and the barn too. But there are some new outbuildings and pastures where crops used to be.”

  “Do you remember going out there with Ben when you were kids?”

  “A little. Mostly I remember that one horse we both liked to ride.”

  “Yes. I remember him too. I think his name was Rover.”

  Jed closed the door and leaned his back against it. “Ben’s fiancée’s going to fix us dinner. This will be my first chance to meet her.”

  “I’m glad you’re getting to spend time with Ben while you’re there.” There was a small catch in her voice.

  He understood why, of course. She was thinking about Chris. “I haven’t talked to him again, but I’ve tried plenty. He’s back to not taking my calls.”

  “I thought that by now—” She broke off suddenly.

  He didn’t hear his mom’s tears through the phone, but he felt them in his chest. He would gladly strangle his brother if he could find him. It was one thing for Chris to leave Jed and Laffriot in the lurch. Hurting their mom this way was unforgivable. It didn’t matter so much that Chris cut himself off from Jed, but doing the same to their mom was another. “I’ll find out where he is, Mom. I’ll make sure he lets you know he’s okay.” He hoped he was telling the truth.

  “Thanks, honey. I . . . I’d better get off the phone.”

  “Sure.”

  “Take care of yourself. I love you. Give my love to Ben and his Ashley.”

  “I will. Love you too. Talk to you next week.”

  As soon as the call ended, he punched his brother’s name and listened to the phone ring. It went to voice mail as usual. “Listen, Chris. Stop being such a selfish—” He stopped himself before he called his brother something he shouldn’t. Taking a breath, he continued, “Call Mom. It’s killing her, not knowing where you are or what’s happening to you. I just got off the phone with her, and she was crying. Be mad at me all you want, but she doesn’t deserve this.” He took the phone away from his ear, prepared to hit End, then pulled it back. “Man up, bro, and meet with me. This has gone on long enough.”

  He returned to the sofa and sat on it, anger tightening his gut. Words he’d wanted to say to his brother, names he’d wanted to call him, roiled in his head. Hateful words. Punishing words. Accusing words. But as he sat there, other words drifted into his head from the past.

  “You’re being too hard on him, Thomas.” Jed’s mom looked at his dad, pleading in her eyes. “Chris isn’t like you.”

  “He should be if he wants to get anywhere in this world.”

  Jed took a step back into the hallway. He didn’t want to end up in the middle of his parents’ latest argument about his kid brother. It seemed like all they did was fight about Chris. Good thing it wouldn’t be much longer before Jed was gone from home and he didn’t have to hear it anymore.

  “And if I’m too hard on him,” his dad continued, “then you’re too easy. You’ve coddled him, Gloria.”

  “I haven’t. I’ve respected his personality.”

  Jed turned and headed toward the back door. He had a date, and he didn’t want to be late. Emily Granger might just be the prettiest girl at the high school. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed her until last week. Sure, she was a couple of grades behind him, but sophomores and seniors shared the same hallways. He must’ve been sleepwalking through them not to have seen her before almost the end of the term.

  He stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind him. He turned to see Chris sitting on the back steps, a cigarette in hand. “You trying to get grounded?”

  His brother took a drag, then snubbed the butt of the cigarette on the step before tossing it out into the lawn. “You off on your date?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With Emily Granger.”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  “Word gets around.” Chris stood, shoving his fingers in his back pockets as soon as he was up. “How’d you meet her?”

  Jed shrugged. “Usual way. Walked up and introduced myself.”

  An odd expression crossed Chris’s face. Not belligerent, as was most often the case. No, more sad or disappointed or . . . or lost. For a second, something caught in Jed’s chest. Should he ask Chris what was wrong? No. He didn’t have time for that.

  His anger cooled by the memory of that long-ago evening, Jed lowered his gaze to the items on the coffee table. After a while, he picked up Andrew Henning’s Bible. He’d been reading a chapter or two a day from it, always pausing when he came to an underline or a note or a date in the margin. Sometimes he could tell why Andrew had selected a specific verse. Often he couldn’t know, only guess. On occasion, a word in the margin would make no sense to him at all. One thing that did make sense? This Bible had been personal and meaningful to his great-grandfather. Now it had begun to feel personal and meaningful to him too. In fact, holding it made him ashamed of what he’d wanted to say to his brother only minutes before.

  Opening the Holy Book, he returned to a chapter he’d read earlier in the week,
the one in Luke about the prodigal son. In the margin, Andrew had written two names, along with a few brief words of prayer: Bring the prodigal home to You, Lord. The first name was Oscar. Jed knew that had been Andrew’s middle child, the one who’d died in the closing days of World War II. The second was Ben’s mom’s name. Jed didn’t know Wendy Henning’s entire history, but he knew she’d never married and had remained estranged from most of the family, even to this day. Apparently, Andrew had prayed for his great-granddaughter the same way he’d prayed for his son.

  Jed took a moment to reread the words of Jesus as He told the story of the two sons. When done, he closed his eyes and asked God’s forgiveness. Too often he’d been self-righteous when it came to Chris—and to his dad—and he regretted it. He wanted that to change. “Bring the prodigal home to You, Jesus,” he whispered as he opened his eyes again. Then he picked up a nearby pen and wrote Chris’s name in the margin of the Bible, right beneath the other two names. Afterward, he set the Bible aside, grabbed his phone, and punched his dad’s name in his Favorites directory.

  * * *

  Holly was ready—more than ready, if she was honest with herself—by the time Jed knocked on her back door. On her way to answer it, she grabbed her purse and sweater. It was warm enough outside right now, but spring in Idaho guaranteed that the temperature would cool off quickly come evening.

  Jed grinned when he saw her, and she felt a wonderful-terrible flutter in her stomach at the sight of him. He wore jeans and a snug black T-shirt and had a jacket slung over his shoulder, hooked on the index finger of his left hand. He could have been posing for an ad in a magazine. He was that handsome.

  For several good, sound, logical reasons, she knew it wasn’t wise to let herself feel anything for Jed. Friendship at the absolute most. Even that came with risks. Feeling more than that was a guaranteed doorway to pain. However, Trixie was right. She had closed herself off from life. She didn’t want to give in to fear. She’d done too much of that over the last year. Jed seemed a nice man, and he was only in Boise temporarily. So how dangerous could he be?

  “All set?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Let’s go, then. We’ve got a perfect day for a visit to the old farm.”

  She stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her. As she turned the key in the lock, she said, “I feel like I’m playing hooky.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I’m not at the restaurant. I usually am at this time on a Saturday.”

  They walked toward the garage. “People tell me it’s good to take time off every now and then. Not that I have a whole lot of experience with it. Running my own company, I’ve often worked eighty-hour weeks. But I’ve been thinking maybe that’s not so healthy. Maybe I need to pay attention to other things.”

  “But it was important in the beginning, as you got your business off the ground. Right?”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “And then it got easier?”

  “Sure. It got easier.” He stopped beside his car and opened the passenger door.

  She didn’t get in at once. Instead, she looked up into his eyes. “Did you begin your business because you were passionate about it?”

  “Passionate?” One of his eyebrows rose higher than the other.

  “Was it something you always wanted to do?”

  “Sure.” He gave a small shrug. “I always wanted to run my own company. It didn’t matter so much what, exactly. That came about because of my brother. He’s a whiz with computers and program and design. He’s creative too. I’m the one with the business acumen.”

  “You’re lucky to have each other,” she said before slipping onto the passenger seat.

  He was silent a moment before saying, “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Then he closed the door.

  If only I had someone to do this with me, maybe I wouldn’t hate the restaurant so much.

  She frowned. Did she hate the restaurant, or did she hate the overwhelming amount of work, the lack of money, and the worries that went with it all? She wasn’t sure. It was difficult to sort through her feelings.

  Jed slid onto the seat to her left. “Ready for a day of fun?”

  “Yes,” she answered, willing it to be true, willing herself to cast off her cares for a few hours.

  They drove out of the city, the suburbs spreading for miles and miles to the south and west, eating up what had once been farmland. It amazed Holly how much the area had changed over the years. Growth and a robust economy were good things for businesses. Good for restaurants—like hers. All she needed was a way to make more people discover Sweet Caroline’s.

  Look at me. I can’t go more than fifteen minutes without my thoughts going back to it.

  Holly turned toward Jed, as much as the seat belt allowed. “Tell me about where you live. Are you in the city or out in the suburbs?”

  “City. I bought a place with a great view, but to be honest, I’m not there a lot. I spend more time at the office complex than anywhere else.”

  “Hobbies?”

  He gave his head a slight shake. “Not really. I run. Does that count as a hobby?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t think so either.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment the instant the words were out of her mouth. She’d wanted to change the direction of her thoughts, but not this way. “Sorry. Not my business.”

  He glanced over at her, then back at the road. Something in his profile told her he was choosing his words carefully. At last he answered, “No. I don’t have a girlfriend. I haven’t had a lot of luck in that department.”

  Holly found it hard to believe there wasn’t someone waiting for him back in Washington. In addition to being incredibly good looking, Jed had an easy charm. He must draw women like a magnet. Just the kind of man she should avoid.

  “One more thing, Holly,” he said, his voice low. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come out to Ben’s farm with me if I was seeing someone back home.”

  She felt even more embarrassed now. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

  He looked at her again. “But I like spending time with you.”

  It wasn’t her cheeks that warmed this time. It was something inside of her. Heat coiled in her belly, and she had to look away rather than risk him reading the fear and confusion in her eyes.

  A short silence settled between them before Jed said, “That’s the Harmony Barn up ahead on the right. You can just now see the sign.”

  She looked. The sign was made of logs and rough-cut boards. Placed near the road, the name was legible from a good distance away. As they drew closer, she saw additional information in smaller letters, although she couldn’t yet read what it said. They passed a row of trees running perpendicular to the road, and the pastures, horses, barn, and other outbuildings came into view.

  “Oh my.” She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this was more.

  Jed slowed and turned into a driveway. On Holly’s right there was a low fence made of lava rock. Up ahead on the left was a small house, white with a yellow front door and matching shutters. Without having met the woman, she was certain Ben’s fiancée was responsible for the added color.

  “There’s Ben.” Jed pointed in the direction of the barn as he parked near the house. He got out of the car and came around to open the door for Holly.

  “Hey, you two,” Ben called as he strode toward them. “Glad you could come out. Holly, good to see you again.”

  “Thanks for inviting me.”

  Ben looked toward the house as a young woman stepped onto the front porch, wiping her hands on a towel. “Ashley. Come meet Holly and Jed.”

  Ashley tossed the towel onto a nearby porch chair and came down the steps. Dressed in a cotton shirt, Levi’s, and boots, her hair in a ponytail, she moved with a long, easy stride. Her smile was warm and welcoming. “We’re so glad you came.” She shook each of their hands in turn. “I’m sorry I wasn
’t at church to meet you last Sunday, but this will be better anyway. We’ll have time to talk. I hear through the grapevine that you’re a terrific cook, Holly, so I’d better ask your forgiveness in advance.”

  Everyone laughed, and Holly believed right then that she and Ashley were destined to become good friends.

  Monday, July 21, 1969

  “They’re called transient ischemic attacks. TIA for short.” The doctor looked from Helen in the hospital bed back to Andrew and Grant, the two men standing nearby. “They’re often referred to as a mini stroke. A TIA can be a sign of a more devastating stroke in the waiting.”

  “What can be done about them?” Andrew asked.

  “TIA’s don’t usually have lasting side effects, but they are a warning. There are steps your wife can take to lessen the chances of a stroke. Diet and exercise are among them. I’ll make sure you have the necessary information when she is released.”

  Helen asked, “When will that be, doctor? When can I go home?”

  “We’ll keep you overnight, Mrs. Henning, but I see no reason to think you won’t go home in the morning.” He patted her foot beneath the sheet and blanket. “Get some rest. It’s the best thing for you now.” Then he left the room.

  Helen harrumphed. “This is a horrible waste of time and money.”

  “Better to be safe than sorry.” Andrew took hold of her hand. “Try to do what they tell you to do.”

  She gave him that certain look he knew so well.

  He met it with a smile of encouragement that he didn’t feel. After a few moments he stepped forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll go so that you’ll rest. Like the doctor ordered.”

  She frowned at him, making sure he knew how unhappy she was to be stuck there. “What about your dinner?”

  “We’ll grab something on the way home. Don’t worry. We can take care of ourselves for one night.”

  His parting words haunted him as he and his grandson made their way along the hospital hallways to the elevator and out to Grant’s pickup truck. He could take care of himself, even with a bad back. But what if . . .