Be Sweet (21 page)

“Don't ‘Hi, Mom' me. You should be dressed and ready to go.” She adjusts her purse on her shoulder.

“Be nice to her, Mom. She bruised her ankle and had to have a tooth filled in the middle of the night,” Janni says, grabbing her coat from the closet.

“She what?” Mom looks at me as though she can't believe she gave birth to me.

Janni explains everything. I haven't the strength. To my surprise, Mom's face turns soft.

“I'm sorry, dear,” she says, tucking the blanket in around me. “Do you need me to stay home with you?”

The music to
Psycho
screeches through my mind, and my body gives an involuntary shudder.

“I'm staying with her,” Stephanie says in no uncertain terms.

Mom looks from her to me. “Well, if you're okay with that, Char?”

“Yes, Mom, that's fine.” It's kind of nice to have Mom's attention like this, though I wouldn't go so far as to say I want her to stay here with me.

“Well, all right then.” Mom turns to Janni. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. The boys and Candy went with Daniel. He had to be there early to work the sound system. They wanted to go over to the coffee shop and grab something before church.”

Mom nods. “Char, behave yourself.” She waves and shoots out the door before I can reply.

Janni looks at me, and we both laugh. “How much trouble does she think I can get into when I can't walk?” I ask.

“You have a reputation.” Janni chuckles.

“Don't remind me.”

“The chicken and noodles are in the Crock-Pot. The oven timer is set for the broccoli casserole. The salad is in the fridge, and I'll prepare the rolls when I get home,” Janni says.

“What, no dessert?” I tease.

“Blueberry pies.”

My mouth dangles open. She laughs.

“You are a saint.” One glance at Stephanie makes me want to ask, “Or are you?”

“Planning a meal hardly qualifies me for sainthood.” She shrugs. “You do what you've got to do,” she says. “See you later.”

As soon as the door pulls closed behind Janni, I turn to Steph. “All right, let's get down to business.” No way I can wait another minute. We need to resolve this now.

She takes a deep breath. “I've been searching for quite some time for my biological mom. She went to college in Illinois, got pregnant, gave me up for adoption. With the help of an Internet agency, I began my search to find my mom and ultimately that led me here to Tappery.”

My tongue won't move, and this time it has nothing to do with the shot Russ gave me.

Another deep breath. “It was sheer luck that day at the coffee shop when Daniel talked to the barista about needing help. In the course of their conversation, he mentioned that his father-in-law was Pastor Haverford and his wife's name was Janni. That's when I knew I had to come and check it out. My mother's name was Janet Elise Haverford.”

My breath lingers between my chest and mouth. My tongue still won't move. I try to take it all in. She has to be telling the truth because she knows Janni's full name. Still, this world is full of sly people who try to deceive others. Maybe she wants money from Janni and figures if she's one of the kids . . . Wonder if she's seen the carpet or noticed Daniel's coupon fetish?

“I don't want anything from her,” she says, as though she's read my thoughts. “I've just always wanted to know my real mother.”

“But you don't eat carbs,” I say in utter amazement.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Listen, I don't mean to be rude, Stephanie, but it's highly unlikely that Janni had a baby without the rest of us knowing about it. Saying nothing of the fact that it would be totally out of character for her. The woman is a saint.” My fingers work the cover around me, tucking it in for warmth.

“People mess up.”

“Yeah, but not Janni. Trust me on this, I know. After you get to know her, you'll see. There's got to be some mistake.”

“No mistake, Char.”

No use arguing with her about it. She'll see. “And your mother in Illinois, what's her name?”

“Carol Sherwood.”

“Does she mind that you're seeking out your mother?”

“No. Said she always knew I would someday.”

“Does she know you're staying at Janni's house?”

“Yeah. Char, just so you know, I tried to tell you about this that night in the barn, remember?”

For a minute, I think back. “Yes, I remember. So what now?”

She looks down at her hands. “I don't know. Guess I just wanted to get to know her a little.”

Just what Janni needs right now. Someone to come along and stir up trouble. Talk about an emotional upheaval. “Are you planning to tell her?”

“I don't know.”

“I'm not sure she can take it right now,” I say. “As you know, she's had a lot of pressure on her lately, and she's going through—well, she's kind of going through some things.”

Steph's head jerks up. “She's not sick, is she?”

“No, nothing like that. I think she's going through the changes that women go through in midlife. It affects your emotions and all that. It's a difficult time to handle big things.”

Steph looks down again. “Maybe I should just leave.”

Part of me wishes she would leave to spare Janni the headache of it all, but I can see the hope fringing on despair in Stephanie's eyes. She won't rest until she finds her biological mother. She deserves to know it's not Janni.

“Do you still want to work at the coffee shop and stay in town?”

“For a little while. At least, that was my goal.”

My heart aches for her other mother, since she will have to share her only daughter—once Stephanie finds her biological mother. “What about Carol?”

“No one can ever take her place in my heart. She did the hard work of raising me. She will always be my true mother.”

I nod.

“Who all knows about me?”

“I think I can safely say no one.” My mind drifts back to those blurry days when Janni was in college. I had already left home by then, but I'd see her at all the school breaks. Surely I would have known if she had been pregnant. There was one Christmas break when she wore a lot of oversized sweatshirts. I shake the memory. It's ludicrous to even con-sider. “Listen, Stephanie, I know how badly you want Janni to be your mom, but just don't get your hopes up, okay?”

“You'll see that I'm right, Char. You'll see.”

Something about the confident way she says that causes a chill to shimmy up my spine. Maybe I should go home while there's still time.

“How ya feeling, Zip?” Daniel asks when every-
one stumbles into the house from church, shoving coats and hats into the hall closet.

“Stephanie has taken good care of me.” I smile, praying the storm that's soon to erupt won't leave a lot of debris behind. With a curious glance, Janni looks at Steph, then back to me. “The smell of chicken and noodles has been driving me wild,” I say.

Daniel goes up behind Janni, grabs her around the middle, then squeezes. “Nobody can cook like my Janni,” he says. She lifts her gaze to him. “But I'm still gonna take her to restaurants when she wants to go.”

We all laugh together. Does Janni have any clue how lucky she is to have a guy like Daniel? There just aren't many around. I should know. I've made a professional career of dating.

“I'm impressed you got your bedding put away. You could have stayed there all day, you know,” Janni says, stepping away from Daniel.

“What do you take me for, a slug?”

Janni chuckles. “Well, you just stay put until lunchtime. I don't need you and your crutches getting in my way in the kitchen.”

“Why don't you tell me how you really feel?”

“I'll help you, Janni.” Stephanie steps up to the plate. She tosses me a quick glance before trailing behind Janni into the kitchen.

I grab my sketch pad and pencil, and start drawing more ideas on the coastal home. As I work on the outside elevation, I pencil in an ocean setting which makes me a tad homesick for Maine.

Before I have time to think on that, Dad shoves through the front door. “Hey, Dad. I'm so glad you're joining us.” Just then Mom harrumphs loud enough for us to hear on her way to the kitchen.

“Don't mind her,” I whisper. “She'll come around.” I pat the seat beside me. Wiggles barks from his cage, whips his tail, and scampers about. “I wonder what's the matter with him?”

“It's spring. As a wise old owl once said, ‘He's twitterpated.'”

That little comment from my Dad renders me totally speechless. Never in all my born days could I have imagined hearing my dad say the word
twitterpated
. Quoting King Solomon is one thing, but quoting the owl on
Bambi
? Well, it's just a little frightening, that's all.

“How's my girl?” Dad gives me a sideways squeeze. “I heard you had a rough night.”

“I've had better, that's for sure.”

“I remember when you skinned your knee on your tricycle . . .” Dad goes into another story about the past, and I wonder who's struggling more with letting things go, him or me.

“You doing okay, Dad? I mean, really?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” He pats his stomach. “Probably gained five pounds since your mom's been gone 'cause I'm eating a lot of junk food that she won't let me eat.” He lifts an ornery grin.

This makes me laugh. “Just make sure you eat some good stuff too. No cake for breakfast.”

He winks. “Okay, Zipper.”

“I'm flattered that you all are still calling me that, but it obviously doesn't apply any longer.”

Dad brushes the air with his hand. “Aw, you're as pretty as the day you were born, Charlene.” His eyes take on a glazed look. “I'll never for-get that day. You had the most perfect little round head, and such hair! Looked like your mom from the start—well, except you got my family's body type.”

I lean into him. “I thank you for that.”

“Your mom is small, but her family isn't.” He chuckles. “Yeah, it makes you wonder how anyone can give away a precious little one.”

His comment causes me to choke.

“What's wrong?”

“A tickle,” I explain with a raspy voice. Taking a moment to regain my composure, I look up to him. “What made you think that?”

“Oh, a family at our church dedicated their adopted baby this morn-ing. Just got me to thinking, that's all.”

“Well, sometimes circumstances call for the mother to give up the child.”

“I suppose they have their reasons. I just knew your mother and I never could.”

“And I'm glad.” Another hug.

The front door creaks open, and a gust of wind rushes into the living room, causing a chill on my arms. At least I think it's the wind that's causing it.

“Hi, Russ.” Dad stands to greet him. “Didn't know you were coming.” He shakes Russ's hand.

“House calls, you know. I had to come and check on my patient.” He winks and tosses me a grin.

Daddy rubs his jaw. “I didn't know doctors still made house calls.” He smiles at me. “I'll let you sit over there by your patient, and I'm going to go into the family room to see what's going on in there. That is, after I snitch something good from the kitchen.”

We smile after him. Russ peels off his coat, hangs it up in the closet and comes over to sit beside me. “So, how you doing?”

“Doing well, thanks to my fine dentist.” I smile, thankful that I finally have full control of my facial muscles.

“I do what I can. Looks like the swelling went down in your leg.” He points to my ankle that's resting on the coffee table.

“Yeah. Another day on the crutches, and I should be fine to walk on it.”

“What are you working on?” He points to my sketch pad.

“Some people knit. I sketch house plans.” I smile.

“That's a nice house. I like the layout.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe you should consider the building business instead of commercial real estate. With the way you love to sketch, I'm thinking that's your passion.”

“Say, are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”

He throws back his head and laughs—a rich, warm kind of laugh that makes me feel as though I've been wrapped in cashmere.

“Say, speaking of house drawings, we haven't done much with your house plans.”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe we can work on them after lunch.”

I nod.

“Listen, Charley, I've been feeling guilty all morning about something.”

“Church can do that.”

“It wasn't church. I let my mouth get in the way again.”

“How do you mean?”

“When I had you in the chair, working on your tooth, I pretty much forced you into saying you would go out with me.” Uncertainty clouds his dreamy blue eyes. “It's not like you could easily say no at that point.”

“Oh I see how it is. You're trying to back out gracefully,” I tease, praying it isn't so.

He covers my hand with his and pins me with his gaze. “That's not it, and you know it.”

I try to swallow here, but it's just not happening. My Adam's apple is stuck dead center. Russ's right hand intertwines with my own, and to my amazement, I don't shrink back. His eyes hold me perfectly still.

“How's the numbness?” Lifting his other hand, he outlines my lips with his finger, causing tingles to shoot from my lips to my toes.

I'm glad the novocaine wore off.

“Fine,” I squeak.

The liquid blue in his eyes makes my heart threaten to stop. My stomach is up where my Adam's apple is supposed to be. No wonder it won't move.

“I'm glad.” His warm, whispery breath fans my cheek as he leans his head toward me, his penetrating gaze looking straight into my soul.