Be Sweet (15 page)

“How can you possibly say that? You're one of the busiest people I know, always taking care of other people, seeing to their needs, watching over your boys, your household.”

“You see, that's just it. I'm tired of taking care of everyone else.”

This is so not Janni.

“I know that sounds selfish, but it's true.” She stands up. “I'm sick of this stupid farm, the store, everything.” She throws the pillow onto the sofa, and I'm wondering if I should back out of the room and re-enter.

“Why did you buy this place last year if you didn't want to be here?”

“You couldn't understand.”

“What's to understand? I thought you loved this place and didn't want the family to lose it.”

“That's exactly it. Mom and Dad love this place and didn't want the family to lose it. For once in my life, I wanted to do the responsible thing.”

“What do you mean, for once in your life? You've always been the responsible one, Janni.” This conversation has definitely taken a turn south, a direction in which I hadn't planned to travel.

Just then the front door shoves open. “Anybody home?” Mom calls out.

“I need to go check on the animals,” Janni says.

“I'll do it. You just rest.”

Janni' s comments surprise me. She must be going
through some midlife crisis, perimenopause or something. Daniel would be well-advised to hibernate for a year or two.

Mr. Ed whinnies as I step inside the barn. I think he favors me because he gets his food and water quickly when I'm in charge.

“Well, hello, Mr. Ed.” His ears perk forward, and he edges toward me. I give him some oats and check his water supply. Grabbing the pitchfork I poke at some hay in the bale Janni threw down earlier this morning. He nudges me. I want to think it's his way of saying thanks, but the truth of the matter is he's checking my coat pockets for sugar.

We're alike, Mr. Ed and I.

I move forward to check on Elsie and Tipsy when I hear a noise. My heart freezes in my chest. I stop and listen. Nothing but Mr. Ed shifting in his stall and flapping his lips.

When I'm about to move on, I notice hay drifting from the hayloft. Someone is up there. My breath sticks in my chest.

“Who's there?” I call out. Yeah, right, like anyone's going to answer.

Clearing of throat. “Um, Aunt Char?”

My body teeters. Taking a moment to steady myself, I then look up to see Blake leaning over the hayloft with Stephanie right behind him.

My eyes grow wide. I know this, because I now see in a panoramic view.

“Aunt Char, this is not what you think,” he begins.

Yeah, whatever. “I thought you went to a movie.”

“We didn't go.”

Okay, do I look stupid? “You shouldn't be out here like this, Blake.” I'm irritated, and my voice shows it.

They climb down the ladder. “We were talking.”

“Let me handle this,” Stephanie insists. “I'm going to tell her, Blake.”

“That's not necessary, Steph,” he says.

“Excuse me, let me be the judge of that.”

“Don't tell Mom, okay, Aunt Char?”

“Tell her what?”

“I'm going to talk to your mom too,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, brushing hay from her shoulders.

“About what? Blake, we trusted you.” Though he's not my son, I've always loved these boys like they were my own.

“I didn't do anything, Aunt Char.” He holds up his hands as though I'm Marshal Dillon, and he's on the other side of the law.

“See, Blake. I'm going to tell her,” Miss Take Charge says, causing my blood pressure to rise.

“Would you please stop talking about it and just tell me?” My toe is tapping here, and it's not a happy tap.

“We were talking,” Blake says.

“That's the best you can do?”

“It's the truth.”

“Why not talk in the house?”

“We wanted some privacy,” he defends.

“You could have gone into the living room or the kitchen.”

“It's not the same.”

“It's like this,” Stephanie begins.

“Don't tell her.”

“Tell me what?”

They're going back and forth again. I'm tired, and they're getting on my last nerve. I lift the pitchfork in attack position, feeling every inch the bad cowboy caught up in an episode of
Bonanza
. “Tell me, doggone you.”

Blake looks worried—as well he should be.

“You have to promise not to tell Mom.”

“Excuse me, is there something in the way I'm holding this pitch-fork that gives you the idea you have bargaining power?”

His Adam's apple bobs with a loud gulp. “Then we're not telling you,” Blake says, giving Stephanie a warning glance. The firm set of his jaw shows me he means it. I've never seen Blake like this. I have half a mind to prick his boot.

“He was going to let me stay here tonight,” Stephanie says.

“Oh, man, Steph, why'd you go and tell her?”

My jaw slackens, and I stare at her. “Stay here? In the barn? All night?”

“She needs a place,” Blake jumps in.

“Why? Did it not work out with your new friend?” Referring to the place where she was staying with another girl she'd met only a few weeks ago.

“No. Her boyfriend moved in last night. Things got a little crazy.”

My heart squeezes. I turn to my nephew. “That still doesn't explain what you're doing out here.”

“She needed some blankets and stuff.” He stares at his boot.

“What's the big deal? You know your mom would want to help you. Why didn't you just ask her, Blake?”

“I know. But she's going through something right now. She's acting, I don't know, kind of weird. I didn't think she could handle it. She's all stressed out or something.”

“Your mom is a little tired, but that wouldn't stop her from helping Stephanie for a night or two.”

“Blake, are you out there?” Janni's voice calls from the porch.

“She must have spotted my car. Be right back.” He pokes his head through the door. “Yeah, I'll be right there, Mom.” He walks over to Stephanie and gives her hand a quick squeeze. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

When Blake leaves the barn, I look back to Stephanie. “I'm sure Janni would have no problem with you staying inside. You can't stay out here all night or you'll freeze.”

“I've stayed in worse than this.”

Something in the way she says that makes me believe her.

“I'm not sure where to begin, but I need to talk to you,” Steph says, as she gears up to tell me something. What's to begin? Is she planning to take up residence or something? An overnight stay does not merit a “serious discussion.” Hopefully, she and Blake aren't getting serious already. They've only known each other a few days, after all.

Before Stephanie can say anything further, a police siren screams in the distance, growing in volume. Tires squeal, gravel crunches, and all finally come to a stop just short of ramming into the barn—or so it sounds.

“What is going on, Officer?” I ask Toby Millington as we rush out of the barn. There he stands, by the squad car, red and blue lights swirling around us.

“Ask her,” he says, pointing to Mom as she steps sheepishly out of her car.

“Viney Haverford, I don't know what you think you were doing, trying to outrun the law like that. If your husband hadn't been my pastor all my life, I'd lock you up.”

Toby is plenty steamed, but Mom was his Sunday-school teacher years ago. I know good and well she put the fear of God in him. He won't mess with her. Though I'm thinking a night in jail could do her a world of good.

“Mom! What happened?” Janni asks, stepping out the front door. “You all right?” She climbs down the steps to stand by Mom.

“She's all right. You might want to check with Officer Millington here on how he's doing, though.” I chuckle.

“This is serious business, Char. Someone could have been killed,” he says.

“That's what I always tell her,” Mom joins in. “She thinks everything is a joke. I taught her better than that.”

“Wait. This is not about me.” Maybe I'll go back in the barn and get that pitchfork.

“All I know is some man was stalking me.” There's that gnarly finger again looking like it's going to poke out an eyeball. She strikes fear in my heart every time she does that. That's the very same finger she used to wag under my nose when I did something wrong as a kid. “I think your father put him up to it.”

“Oh, Mom, you can't be serious,” Janni says.

“I am too,” Mom snaps.

“She ran a red light—”

Janni and I gasp simultaneously.

“—almost hit another car and then when I came after her, she hit the gas and didn't stop till we got here.”

Janni turns to Mom. “What were you thinking? You could have been killed.”

Mom makes a face and stares at her shoe as she scuffs it into the dirt.

“I hate to do it, but I gotta give you a ticket, Viney.”

Mom's head shoots up. “You'll do no such thing, young man. I'll march you right over to your parents.”

“Mom.” Janni grabs Mom's arm. “Toby is no longer in your Sunday-school class. He represents the law in this town, and you can't talk to him that way.”

“I can and I will.”

This adds fuel to the flames. Toby's eyes turn a livid blaze of brown. He gets out his ticket holder and starts scribbling like there's no tomorrow.

I edge over beside Mom. When she sees him writing furiously on the ticket, she gets that look on her face that spells trouble and opens her mouth to speak, but Janni and I both clamp our hands over her mouth in the nick of time. She kicks up gravel with her feet, but we won't let her make nary a peep.

“I'm sorry to give you this, Viney, but I have to do my job.” Since we have her arms held down, he extends the ticket to Janni. Mom con-torts and twists her body and her feet paw at the ground while she tries to break free from our grasp. Picture a snorting bull in front of a waving red cape. If Toby knows what's good for him, he'll skip the lecture and get out of Dodge.

“See you later, ladies. Give my best to Pastor Haverford.” He tips his hat, climbs back into his car, and leaves.

Smart man.

Once he's out of earshot, we drop our hands. I rub my aching arms and shoulders, noting that I haven't exercised this much in months.

“Why did you cover my mouth?” Mom's eyes are shooting fire. Her arms are waving. “I aimed to give that young man a piece of my mind.”

“Come on, Grandma,” Blake says, putting his arm around her, “let's go in the house and get some ice cream.”

Janni rolls her eyes, and we all turn to go inside.

Before following the others, I take a quick glance behind me and get a glimpse of the back of Mom's car. The license plate stops me in my tracks. Instead of the usual numbers found on the plate, black letters tiptoe across it, spelling out the words BE SWEET.

It could be me, but I'm thinking that's just wrong.

twelve

“Hey, Aunt Char, you'd better hurry up and
get in here before Blake eats all the ice cream,” Ethan calls out when Stephanie and I enter the house. Ethan and Candy share a laugh, and he gives her a hug. I remember being young and in love once . . .

Spoons clack against bowls, spirits are high. Emotions tangle inside me.

“You'd better leave me some,” I say, giving Blake a playful punch in the arm.

“I saved you some. In fact,” he says, reaching into the cupboard for a bowl, “I will make you a special creation of my own.”

Janni turns and stares at him. “You're serving her?” She walks over and puts her palm on his forehead. “When is the last time you've had a checkup?”

“Hey, I have my moments of charity,” he says. “Especially where Aunt Char is concerned. She's my favorite aunt.”

“I'm your only aunt, but I'm okay with that.”

Blake shrugs, and the others laugh. Once he finishes his creation, he hands the bowl to me, and then we join the others at the table.

“Would you look at that,” Mom says in wonder when she sees my bowl piled high with ice cream, banana slices, maple syrup, and whipped cream.

“This boy has missed his calling,” I say, patting Blake on the back.

“For this we spend big bucks to send him to a university?” Daniel works the scissors around an ice cream coupon in the paper. “Can't you learn that at the community college?”

Blake drops his spoon and stares at his dad. “Their creative depart-ment is lacking, Dad.”

“What made you think someone was following you, Grandma?” Ethan asks abruptly.

We are now entering a war zone.

“Because he was,” she snaps, while using her spoon to chase the last slurp of ice cream around her bowl.

“How do you know he was following you and not just going in the same direction?” Blake asks with a grin and a wink.

Oh sure, stir up a hornets' nest, then go back to school.

“All I know is when I turned right, he turned right. When I went left, he did too. That's just beyond coincidence in my book,” she says with attitude.

“Mom, this is a small town. There aren't a whole lot of different ways to get somewhere,” I say dryly.

She stares at me so long, I'm afraid if the light catches in her glasses just right, she'll burn a hole in my face.

“He was following me.” Mom says this in such a way as to stop all further conversation right here and right now.

Janni and I exchange a glance. We have to get Mom help. The ques-tion is: how do we get Mom to do anything she doesn't want to do?

“I hope it warms up soon. Those taps aren't flow
ing as good as last year.” Daniel stomps his boots against the floor of the doorframe.