Be Sweet (34 page)

“Well, what is it?”

Janni looks around.

“Why don't you sit over there,” I say, pointing to fallen log. “I'll just go back to the house and leave you two alone.”

When I turn to leave, Janni clutches the hem of my blouse with all the charm of a pit bull. “Oh no, you don't,” she growls between clenched teeth. “You're staying for this one.”

“Well, hurry up. I'm cold.” Mom frowns when she sits on the tree bark.

“This will shock you, Mom, and probably hurt you, but please hear me out. First off, I want to apologize for any pain this will cause you. I never should have allowed myself to get caught up in the peer pressure. You and Dad did a wonderful job of raising Char and me and—”

“Well, for goodness' sakes, spit it out. My bones are so cold, they could break off right now,” Mom says, pulling her coat tighter to her.

She has such a way with words.

Janni blinks, looks at me, then back to Mom. Deep breath. “Okay. It's like this. When I was in college, I fell in love, made bad choices, ended up pregnant, and found out the guy didn't love me after all. He died three weeks before the birth of our baby girl. I put the baby up for adoption, and now I just found out my daughter wants to have a relationship with me.”

With all the courage she can muster, Janni spits out her words in rapid-fire succession. A gasp comes from Mom's direction, and I watch in sheer wonder as her eyelids flutter like a paper fan during a hot flash.

Her eyelids finally come to a halt, but her body is so rigid that I'm sure if I blow on her, she'll fall over and break into a bazillion pieces. For the span of a heartbeat, I'm wondering if Janni's confession has carried Mom to her eternal reward.

“Mom, are you okay?” Janni asks.

Finally, she swallows. “Why didn't you tell us?” Her words are vibrat-ing. I can only hope it's not the precursor to an erupting storm.

“I was afraid,” Janni states simply, staring at her hands, tears spilling on her coat.

“Did you go through this alone? Did anyone help you?” Mom's soft response causes both of us to blink.

Janni looks at her. “Only my roommate knew.”

“You told a stranger but not your mother?” Soft moment over.

“She wasn't exactly a stranger. Besides, I wanted to spare you and Dad the embarrassment in the church and all that.”

“What's more important than our daughters' well-being?” Mom stands up here. “When it comes to you and Char, we don't care what the church people think. We love you. I'm not condoning what you did, mind you, but nothing will stop us from loving you. We love and accept you, warts and all.”

She looks at me when she says the “warts and all” part.

“We pray daily that you will grow stronger in your walk with the Lord. If He can forgive you, why did you think
we
wouldn't?”

We're stunned to silence. In fact, it's as though the whole earth blinks at this surprising revelation.

Janni and Mom soon become a tangle of arms and hugs, while a chunk the size of a hundred-year-old maple lodges in my throat.

Mom finally pulls away from Janni and extends her arms to me to pull me into a hug with the two of them. Mom's bony arms never felt so good.

With emotions spent, Janni pulls a tissue from her pocket, wipes her nose, and turns to Mom. “I never dreamed you'd be so understanding. I've carried this around all these years, so fearful of hurting you, Dad, and Daniel.”

We discuss Stephanie's father, the accident, the adoption, how Daniel's handling everything, and how Janni is going to break the news to the boys.

“You said your daughter wants a relationship. Has she contacted you?” Mom wants to know as we head back to the house.

“Um, I'm glad you asked.” Janni turns to Mom. “She has contacted me. Mom, my daughter is Stephanie.”

By the time we make it back to the house, Dad
is in bed. The light in Carol's room is out, so we assume she's in bed, and Stephanie still isn't home. Mom's determined to wait up for her and be properly introduced to her only granddaughter.

We settle in around the kitchen table with mugs of decaf coffee in hand.

“So what's going on with you, Char, besides the fact you're working yourself to death and you're not giving me grandchildren?”

Okay, that was harsh. But Mom's been so good with Janni's news that I can't help but smile. “Same old, same old,” I say.

“Are you serious about this guy who came to visit you—what's his name?”

“Peter.”

Mom takes a drink from her cup. “Are you serious about him?”

“Peter is a friend.” Though after his visit, I'm wondering if we'll still have that.

Mom stares at me. “He came all the way from Maine to Tappery to visit a friend?”

“And to look over some property.”
Do I want to discuss this? No.
“He's been burned before. Doesn't want to marry again.”

“I see.” Mom continues to peer at me over the rim of her cup.

“What?”

“In other words, he's safe.”

“I guess you could say that.” Probably very safe now. As in, merely an acquaintance. A boss.

Mom puts her cup down. “Char, you're too pretty a woman to give up on life.”

A few days ago, I would have argued that I hadn't given up on life, but now I see some truth to what she's saying.

“What about Russ?” Mom's eyes continue to bore into my soul. I hate it when she does that.

“What about him?”

“You know what I mean. Anything there?” Her thumb runs along the handle of her coffee cup while she keeps her eyes fixed on me.

Mom knows how to cut to the heart of the matter. I shrug.

“You know good and well there's something there, Charlene Marybelle. It's written all over your face.”

Her words hit me like a two-by-four. “That's news to me,” I say.

“Well, wake up and read the paper,” Mom says, causing Janni to laugh, but I'm still stunned to silence.

We all know Mom has a keen intuition about these sorts of things, so when she makes a comment such as this, I sit up and take notice. I mean, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that I care about Russ, but I haven't allowed myself to evaluate that too much. The truth is I'm afraid to explore those feelings for fear of where they might lead me.

“I don't want to go there again,” I say, wishing I hadn't, because Mom's up for this argument, and I'm not.

“One bad apple don't spoil the whole bunch, girl. Remember that song, Char?” Janni pipes up. “By the Osmonds?”

Suddenly, the tune plays in my head, and I smile. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Russ is way different from Eddie. No comparison,” Mom says. “Eddie always worried me.”

“How so?”

“The way he flirted.” Mom holds up her hand. “Oh, I know, you always said he was just outgoing, but I saw it as more than that. He had a wild streak, that one.”

“Does this mean you don't hold the divorce against me?”

Mom gives me an incredulous stare and reaches out her hand to me in a rare moment of tenderness. “Is that what you thought? I never held that divorce against you, Charlene Marybelle. He left you for another woman. There wasn't much you could do to fight it. His mind was made up. I just never quite knew what to say. Remember, when Eddie left, it felt like we lost a son too. It devastated the whole family.”

Being self-absorbed in my own pain, I had failed to see theirs. “I thought I had let you down.” Tears surface, and I try everything to hold them back.

“You could never let us down. We love you girls more than any-thing.” She squeezes my hand, then lets go. “I'm not good with words. Never have been. I speak my mind, and that's gotten us into trouble at the church on more than one occasion, I can tell you.”

I can only imagine.

“We're a lot alike, Char,” Mom continues. “We both speak our minds, and we're both independent.” Mom fingers the handle of her mug a moment, then looks up at me. “I suppose that's why I've always been a little harder on you, telling you to be sweet and mind your mouth, all that. I was hoping to spare you the same mistakes I've made over the years.”

Mom's little speech has left me, um, speechless. I've always seen her and Janni as being like-minded, both devoted to family and into the domestic side of life. Okay, I've seen them as the family saints—well, all except for Mom's tongue thing. Oh, yeah, and now Janni's college indiscretions. But Mom and I alike? It's kind of nice and scary all at the same time.

“You're an instigator, too. When there was a problem, I pretty much knew you were behind it.” Mom chuckles and shakes her head. “You'd get yourself into more trouble when you were growing up.” She turns to Janni. “Now, me and Janni, we're both a little manipulative.”

I didn't even know Mom knew what that meant.

Janni's eyes widen, and Mom smiles. “Admit it. We both see our-selves as the glue that holds the family together. We do what it takes to keep things in balance—or so we tell ourselves.”

Mom's comments smack of Dr. Phil, and I'm almost sure she's recording his shows.

“Guess I should follow my own advice to be sweet, huh?” Mom gives a chuckle, then goes back to her coffee.

Okay, I didn't see that one coming.

“That's an interesting way of looking at it,” Janni says, “and I think you're right.” She turns to me. “I'm ashamed to admit it, but in a way I was trying to make you more like me.”

“Yeah, like
that's
gonna happen,” I say with a laugh. Mom and Janni laugh too.

“It's not going to happen because you're wired differently,” Mom says. “And it's okay to be different.”

“It's not that I thought I was better or anything, but, well, you have to admit I didn't get into as much trouble as you.” Janni grins.

Mom winks at me, then turns to Janni. “You both have so much to offer. Janni, people know they can always count on you if they need you. You're dependable, and you have a servant's heart.” Mom puts her hand on Janni's arm. “You're always there for your dad and me, and we're grateful for you.” Mom looks at me. “And you, Char, are strong and independent. We know if there's a problem, you will find the solution.” This time she touches my arm. “We also know if we need you, you'll be here for us.”

“Okay, who are you, and what have you done with our mother?” Another loose-tongue moment, but I just can't help myself. This whole discussion has rocked my world.

“Now, don't think just because I've had a vulnerable moment, that I'm going to stop giving you advice. We all should strive to do and be better. But I just want you to know we never blamed you for the divorce.”

All this time I thought they judged me, that I had disappointed them. I stayed away not wanting to face the pain . . .

“Well, that's behind her and she can move on from here, right, Char?” Janni smiles, but she's not fooling me. She's trying to get my mind off things.

“Yeah. Now it's my turn,” I say. “You see yourselves as manipulative, but I know that stems from caring about others. If you didn't care, you wouldn't be so protective. I'm sorry for the times I resented that. Mom, I've needed you to be outspoken at times”—I hope she gets it that I don't need it
all
the time—“you're straightforward, and I appreciate that in a person. I always know right where I stand with you. And Janni, you always challenge me to care more about others. Your friends are testimony of your faithfulness to others.”

We're all misty eyed as we get up from our chairs and share hugs. Afterwards, we dab the corners of our eyes with napkins, and the front door shoves open. Stephanie steps inside.

“Hey, what are you all doing up?” she asks when she walks into the kitchen.

“We were waiting on you,” Janni says. “Mom wants to meet her one and only granddaughter.”

Stephanie gasps and turns to Mom, who rises from her chair. They meet in the middle of the kitchen.

“Welcome to the family, sweetheart,” Mom says before pulling her into a big hug—well, as big a hug as Mom's skinny arms can give her.

Stephanie's eyes tear up. “Thank you—can I call you Grandma?”

“Well, you'd better,” Mom says.

She laughs. “Thanks, Grandma.”

We talk excitedly for a little bit, catching up on Stephanie's life, some of the things we've missed, her first day of school, her first date, getting her driver's license, and those types of things.

“Well, now that you're my granddaughter, I don't mind telling you, I just don't think it's right for a girl to strike out on her own, back-packing halfway across the country.”

Janni looks at Stephanie and smiles. “You're part of the family now.”

The pastor quotes a verse, telling us to forget what
is behind and strain toward what is ahead. While he prays, my tears flow. I'm not sure whether they are for me, because I want to hang on to my anger, or for the years wasted in bitterness. The memories I anguished over without seeing the new bitter memories I was creating.

How could I have been so fooled? Everyone else could see right through me. Janni knew. That's why she kept telling me to let it go. Still, I had convinced myself that I had surrendered it all to the Lord, that my “feelings” were completely human. In part, they were. There's a grieving process we go through, but the thing is not to hang on to the bitterness.

Easier said than done, but thankfully, God did not give up on me. I hadn't meant to harbor resentment and unforgiveness. It just lurked in the shadowed corners of my heart and festered. The frightening thing is I'm not sure I know how to forgive and make it final. It's not anything I can do on my own, I know that much. After more tears and praying through the matter, I maneuver myself through the throng of people and make my way to my car, all the while hoping no one sees me or talks to me.