How Sweet It Is

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  A grinning young man—barely into his twenties, by the look of him—bustled into the waiting room. “It’s a boy!”

  The two couples on the opposite side of the room were on their feet at once. There were hugs and back slaps exchanged and plenty of excited talk. But soon, the new dad led the delighted grandparents out of the room. Only silence was left behind, and Andrew felt the weight of it on his soul.

  Please, God. Protect Shari and her unborn child.

  Time ticked by with agonizing slowness. Andrew could see the strain of it on the faces of his loved ones. Unable to help ease their worries, he looked down, resting his forearms on his thighs, and prayed some more. Then someone—he couldn’t be sure who—sucked in a breath that caused him to look up.

  Michael stood in the doorway. Exhaustion was etched on his face, but the smile he wore told Andrew all he needed to know.

  Louisa rose and hurried across the room. “Shari’s okay?”

  “Yes.” Michael’s gaze took in the others in the waiting area. “It’s a girl. And she’s a beauty. Complaining about her entrance into the world for all she’s worth.”

  “Thank God.” Andrew stood.

  While the others talked and celebrated, Andrew’s thoughts went back in time again. He’d been twenty-five years old when they lost their firstborn, and the pain of the loss had been keen. He was thankful beyond words that his grandson didn’t have to endure the same pain.

  “She’s in the nursery,” Michael said. “Come and see her.”

  Andrew joined Helen, placing his arm around her back while they exchanged understanding looks. “God is good,” he said to her.

  “Always,” she replied.

  Then they followed the proud father and grandparents out of the waiting room.

  Chapter 17

  Jed was taken to the Lighthouse common room, the only room in the shelter where men were allowed.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve brought in the cake,” Holly told him, then left him there.

  Judging by the exterior, at one time the Lighthouse had housed a church. Extensive remodeling on the interior had removed any resemblance of that use. Perhaps the common room had been part of the sanctuary, but there was no way for him to be certain of that. He stood in the middle of the large room, letting his gaze roam over all of the mismatched furniture—sofas, loveseats, chairs, end tables. Donations, no doubt. Things that people no longer wanted in their homes and had gifted to the shelter. Shelves on two different walls were packed with books, some upright, some in piles. Framed prints hung on the walls. A worn area rug covered much of the floor.

  “Who’re you?” a young voice demanded from behind him.

  Jed turned, his gaze lowering to the dark-haired boy who wore a scowl, distrust written in his eyes.

  “You supposed to be in here?”

  “Yes, I am.” He held out a hand. “I’m Jed. Jed Henning.”

  The boy looked as if Jed was offering a snake instead of a handshake.

  He didn’t have much experience with kids, but he knew enough to lower his hand and take a step back, giving the boy some space. “I’m waiting for Miss Stanford. Do you know her?”

  “Ethan?” A woman appeared in the doorway, holding hands with a little girl. She looked as if she would say something to the boy, but then she saw Jed. “Oh. I didn’t know anyone was in here.” Her expression resembled Ethan’s. “Are you waiting for someone?”

  “I came with Holly. She’s in the kitchen, I think.” Again he held out a hand. “Jed Henning.”

  The woman’s expression was transformed by a smile. “Holly’s friends are always welcome at the Lighthouse. I’m Madalyn Hargrove. That’s my son, Ethan.” She shook Jed’s hand. “And this is my daughter, Olivia.”

  “Ethan and I were getting acquainted.” Jed glanced again at Ethan, but the boy still wore a frown. Apparently Jed’s friendship with Holly didn’t impress him.

  Madalyn motioned toward the nearest chairs. “Let’s sit down, shall we, Mr. Henning?”

  “Sure. And please, call me Jed.”

  Madalyn leaned down and said something to her daughter. The girl immediately headed to a corner where there were some toys and books. Ethan followed her there a few moments later.

  Before either of the adults could move to the chairs, voices announced the arrival of others. Seconds later, five women entered the common room, along with two young girls around Ethan’s age and a toddler, running on pudgy legs to keep up.

  “We heard there was cake,” one of the women said.

  A loud “Yes!” came from the children’s corner.

  The women began to sit down around the room while talking to one another. Overt glances were cast in Jed’s direction. Otherwise he was ignored.

  “Hey, everyone.” When Madalyn had everyone’s attention, she performed quick introductions. The last one was Willow Flynn, now seated in the chair to his right.

  Jed thanked God for a familiar face. He’d only met Willow that once at church, and they hadn’t said more than a few words to each other. Still, her presence made him feel a little more at ease. He was comfortable in board rooms but not so much in a room full of women and children. He’d be glad when Holly walked through those doors again.

  As if in answer to his unspoken hope, Holly wheeled in a silver cart with the cake riding in its center, another woman following behind her. Oohs and aahs resounded around the room. Well deserved, Jed thought. The cake looked different from any wedding cake he’d seen before. No thick frosting spread on the top and sides, but lots of fruit everywhere.

  From the lower shelf of the cart, the woman who’d come in with Holly brought out plates, napkins, and forks. Holly, in the meantime, had begun to cut slices of the cake with a knife. Before long, the dessert had been distributed to everyone, Jed included. Seeing what had happened, Willow’s toddler ran across the room to her with a squeal of delight. She drew him onto her lap with one hand while keeping the cake out of his reach.

  “Me do it. Me do it.”

  Jed looked at the little boy, the three-word phrase throwing his thoughts back in time to when Chris had been about the same age. Independent and headstrong to the core, Chris had demanded to do everything himself. “Me do it!” had been his cry as a two-year-old. From that time on, he hadn’t wanted help from anyone. He’d wanted his own way. “Butt out!” were the words he’d shouted at Jed not so long ago, but it had meant the same thing as his childhood cry.

  “AJ, sit still,” Willow commanded the wiggly child. “Sit still or you won’t get any cake.” The threat worked. AJ quieted.

  Chris had rarely obeyed when ordered to do something. Ultimatums had made him even more stubborn. Jed pictured his brother sitting across from him in that bar and grill on Thursday night. Jed hadn’t heard from him since. Should he be the one to call or text, or should he wait for Chris to make the next move? All he knew for certain was that he missed his brother. An unexpected emotion.

  “Are you all right?” Holly asked softly.

  He turned his head, surprised to find her standing in front of him. He blinked, then answered, “Yeah. I’m fine.” He held up the dessert plate in his hand and forced a smile. “And I can’t wait to taste this.”

  * * *

  Holly settled onto a chair to Jed’s left and watched him take his first bite of the cake. The smile he turned on her was more genuine than the one from moments before.

  “This is amazing.” He touched the frosting between the layers of cake with the tines of the fork. “It tastes like about a million calories a bite.”

  She laughed. “Something like that.”

  “Holly.”

  She looked across the room at Adele.

  Hand covering her mouth, the girl said, “Can you teach us to make a cake like this on Monday?”

  “Not this Monday,” she answered, “but maybe in a few weeks.”

  “Mmm. I can’t wait.”

  It might be the most Holly had heard Adele say at any one time.
It made her feel good, seeing the change in the teenager. She wondered how much more Adele would change once she got her new dentures.

  To her left, a newcomer to the Lighthouse said, “You’re the cooking teacher?”

  Holly smiled. “Yes, I am.” She held out her hand. “I’m Holly Stanford.”

  “Camila García.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Camila. I’d love to have you join us on Monday mornings. Anytime you wish.”

  “Thank you. I would like that.”

  “Mostly I teach how to make nutritious meals on a budget, but every so often, desserts find their way into the lessons.”

  “That is good.” A shy smile curved Camila’s mouth.

  Holly wondered what this young woman’s story was, what had brought her to the Lighthouse. She wondered the same thing with every new arrival, but she’d learned to let the women tell what they wanted, without any prompting, in their own time.

  Camila’s attention was drawn away, giving Holly a chance to look around the room again. Except for AJ, the children had been served their cake at a small table near the dining room entrance. By this time their plates were empty, every trace of frosting licked clean. Most of the adults weren’t far behind them.

  “Mom,” Ethan said, “can we have more?”

  “Not now, honey,” Madalyn answered. “But maybe after dinner tonight.” She rose and went to the table. Probably to make sure hands were clean before the children returned to the toys. She was soon joined by two other women.

  As Holly looked around the room one more time, she thanked God that she could be a part of the lives of those who resided here. Bringing over the cake had seemed a small thing to her, but it wasn’t small to the people in this room. It brought pleasure and laughter. It was a break in the routine of a Saturday afternoon. It was a kindness that was foreign to too many of them.

  “Hey there, buddy.”

  Holly looked to her right. AJ had left his mom’s lap and was standing next to Jed, his hands on Jed’s thigh, looking up and grinning. Jed held his plate off to the opposite side, protecting the remaining cake crumbs.

  “He likes you,” Holly said.

  Jed chuckled. “He likes your cake.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. It was the plate that had AJ’s attention.

  “I’m sorry.” Willow set her own plate on the floor before scooping her son up in her arms.

  “It’s okay. He wasn’t bothering me.”

  AJ wriggled, trying to escape his mom’s grasp.

  “Really,” Jed added. “No worries. My kid brother was like that at his age. Never wanted to be still.”

  With a sigh of exasperation, Willow let AJ slide to the floor.

  Holly decided this was a good time to collect dirty plates and wheel the cart back to the kitchen. When she was almost halfway around the room, moving clockwise, she discovered that Jed had followed her lead and was collecting plates going in the counterclockwise direction. Thanks, she mouthed to him when their gazes met over the cart. He replied with a nod and a grin, and she felt the wall of resistance around her heart slipping away.

  Tuesday, September 30, 1969

  Andrew stared at the neurologist. “But Dr. Schwimmer, Helen hasn’t had any symptoms in almost two months.”

  “We still need to do the tests, Mr. Henning. The more information we have, the better care we can provide for your wife. My nurse is scheduling the arteriogram right now. It should be in the next week or two. Then we’ll have a follow-up appointment soon after the results are back.”

  Helen rose from her chair. “Thank you, doctor. We appreciate the time you’ve taken with us.”

  Frustrated—and more unsettled than he’d been in many weeks—Andrew got up, bid the doctor a good day, and left the office with Helen at his side. They were silent as they walked to the car, both of them trying to digest all that the neurologist had said to them, as well as what he hadn’t said.

  Once in the Jeep, Helen looked at Andrew. “I’m not afraid.”

  He wished he could say the same. As the physician had laid out the possibilities, a chill had run through him, settling in his heart, and it had yet to dissipate.

  “My love.” Helen’s hand pressed against the side of his face. “Tomorrow has enough trouble of its own. That’s what the Lord told us. We must have faith.”

  He covered her hand. “I know, but my faith feels rather weak today.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  “Shall we go to lunch before we drive home?” she asked as he drew back. “Or would you rather eat in our own kitchen?”

  Truth be told, he had no appetite, but he would do whatever Helen wanted. “You decide.”

  “Let’s go home, then. I’ll make chicken salad sandwiches.”

  He grinned. “Unless Grant ate the rest of the chicken from Sunday dinner.”

  “Well, there is that.” After a moment she laughed.

  He joined her, thankful for something to laugh about, even if it was a small thing. “Let’s take the risk.”

  As he turned the key in the ignition, he realized the chill was gone from his heart. Laughter truly was good medicine.

  “Drive by the old apartment on our way out of Boise.”

  Surprised by the request, he looked at Helen.

  “Remember the flowers our landlady had along the sidewalk? They were so beautiful that fall when we first moved in, even that late in the year. Autumn flowers are so vibrant. I want to see if they’re still there.”

  Again, he would do whatever his wife wanted. He turned at the next corner and headed through downtown Boise.

  Knowing their destination caused his thoughts to fly back in time. He remembered the blustery winter day when he’d been laid off from his job at the bank. That bank building was no longer standing. It had been demolished a decade ago. He remembered the feelings that had run through him as he’d gone home to tell his wife that he was unemployed. A mixture of fear and bravado. He remembered that basement apartment—the windows that hadn’t let in as much light as he liked, the worn rugs on the tiled floor, the tiny shower stall where it was hard to turn around without bruising an elbow. Despite the apartment’s drawbacks, he’d loved those few short months they’d lived in it.

  He slowed the Jeep as their destination came into sight. A few moments later he pulled to the curb and killed the engine.

  Helen released a deep breath. “The flowers are still there. I should plant some like them at the farm.” She placed her hand on the door as she stared out the passenger window. “The roof looks new, and so are those shrubs.” She pointed.

  “It’s been almost forty years since we lived there. Lots of things must be new.”

  “Forty years.”

  He almost couldn’t hear her.

  She looked at him, a touch of melancholy in her eyes. “Thanks for humoring me. I haven’t seen it since right after the war ended.”

  He didn’t need for her to explain which war, even though American soldiers had marched off to Korea and Vietnam in the years since. For the two of them, war would always mean the Second World War.

  “Okay.” Her expression brightened. “Now I’m getting hungry. Let’s get home so I can make those sandwiches.”

  “Righto. We’re on our way.” He started the engine again and pulled away from the curb.

  Chapter 18

  After church the next day, Jed drove to a trailhead in the Boise foothills, following directions he’d found on the internet, and parked his rental car in a leveled area. Half a dozen other vehicles were parked there already. The temperature had climbed to seventy-five degrees, and wispy clouds, undisturbed by any breeze, were scattered around the blue sky.

  “Perfect weather,” Holly said as she got out of the car. She was dressed all in yellow, from the visor on her head to her shirt and shorts to the athletic shoes on her feet.

  “You’re right. Perfect.” But he wasn’t thinking about the weather when he said it.

  Holly slid her arms through t
he straps of a backpack. “This was a great idea. I’ve spent way too much time cooped up indoors lately.” She drew a deep breath, head back and face toward the sun.

  Jed dropped the car keys into a small zippered pocket in his own backpack, and then the two of them set off along the trail.

  The foothills in early May were covered in long grasses, wildflowers, bitter brush, and sagebrush. According to Ben, the Boise front served as grazing land in the spring for about twenty-eight thousand sheep. With any luck, they might catch a glimpse of one of the large bands of ewes and lambs.

  “If you get near them,” his cousin had told him, “pay attention. Those Great Pyrenees they use for herding mean business if they feel the sheep are threatened.”

  Jed looked up the hillsides. If any sheep were within hiking distance, they were hidden by the rolling hillsides.

  “No sheep?” Holly asked, guessing his thoughts.

  “I don’t see any.” He glanced her way. “Grant says he remembers the sheep drives going right through downtown Boise on their way to the mountains when he was younger. That was back in the fifties and sixties. But they were doing the drives for decades before that. Can’t imagine what that must have looked like, seeing twenty thousand sheep trotting down Main Street. But then, the population of Boise was a whole lot less fifty years ago.”

  Holly grinned at him. “Sometimes you sound like a historian.”

  “Do I?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I do. I never used to care much about history. Did okay in it in school, but it wasn’t what I focused on. But these past few weeks, going through the boxes of old family photos and letters I got from a cousin, I have to admit, it’s piqued my interest more.”

  Conversation ended as they followed the trail up a steady incline. The ground was hard and dry beneath their feet, but evidence of earlier spring rains was carved into the earth. When they reached the top of the hill, they paused to take in the view—both in front of them and behind them.