Be Sweet (8 page)

“You feel sorry for everybody. How can you feel sorry for her after what she did to me?” I shoot back before I can stop myself.

Janni looks at me. My face heats up ten degrees, and mad tears spring to my eyes.

“You have to let it go, Char.”

I turn my attention to the road. Obviously, I've been working too hard. My emotions always tell on me. “Look, I'm not the one who had the affair, okay? They conceived that baby during our marriage. Mine and Eddie's marriage, Janni. I've let it go, but I can't forget. She lured my husband away when I needed him most. And he willingly betrayed me. No one gets over that.” The words sting my soul as they leave my lips.

Janni sighs. “Eddie has left a trail of broken hearts. He'll regret it one day.”

“I doubt it. Once a jerk, always a jerk.”

Janni shakes her head. “An unforgiving heart and bitterness can do more harm to you than he and Linda ever did.”

“Look, Janni, don't preach to me. I've heard this business all my life. The truth is, I believe God is good, but people stink. Linda stole my husband. My chance for a family. I'm not bitter. It's just a fact. She took my life and made it her own.”

“It was wrong of her, but you have to forgive her.”

“Who says I haven't forgiven her?”

“Have you?”

“Hello? It's not as though I've set out for revenge, have I?”

“We all make mistakes, Char.” She turns to me. “All of us.”

six

“I wonder if this is how Daniel Boone felt blaz
-ing a trail,” I say, shoving branches out of my way as we walk through the woods the next afternoon.

Janni chuckles. “Maybe. Though I imagine his paths were not as easy to get through as ours.” We take a few steps in silence.

“Did you get the menu ordered for the party?”

“Had to. The time will be here before we know it.” Now that she's grown used to the idea of a fancy party, there's no use telling her I ordered the menu while I was still in Maine.

“Still getting cards in the mail?” I ask, stepping over pinecones.

“Yep. Almost daily. I think we'll have a good crowd. Still think we could have done it in the church fellowship center. It would have been appropriate what with him being the pastor for so long.”

“This isn't a church matter. This is about their lives together as husband and wife. Hey, what happened over there?” I ask, pointing to some trees with severed branches on the ground below them.

“We had a bad storm last fall and haven't been down here to clean up yet. It always amazes me how nature can beat the trees up, but some-how they manage to survive.”

We step around the debris. “We'll just finish off these two rows of trees here,” she says, pointing. “They were the only ones Daniel and I didn't get to on Saturday.”

My fingers trail the rough bark of a tree. “Funny how they dry up during the winter.”
Just like me—dried up. Used. At least that's how I feel
when I return to Tappery.

“Yeah, it's pretty amazing.”

“Won't be long until we'll be eating pancakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” I say.

“Mom probably wouldn't like that any more than she appreciated the turkey dinner last night.”

“Oh, you know Mom. She's just a tad opinionated.” I laugh. A hole in the ground makes me wobble a moment, and I try not to think about the fact it could be a snake hole. The only thing that sets my mind at ease is in knowing the ground is still frozen, so they're not likely to be slithering around outside. “Besides, she dug into those maple buns this morning like nobody's business.”

“And then complained about them after eating four.” Janni sighs.

“You know, it amazes me that you and Daniel got so many trees tapped by yourselves.”

“Some friends from the church helped. It shouldn't take us long to finish up.”

“You sure are blessed with people who love you.”

“You know, we really are. Let's start with this one,” Janni says, stop-ping at an old, sturdy maple. She studies the tree a moment, her fingers rubbing across the bark for the scar from last year's drilling.

“It's cool how these trees heal themselves.”

“How do you mean?” Janni lifts the gas-powered drill in place and bores a new hole about a half-inch wide.

“You know, we drill a hole, then the following year, the only way we can find it again is by the smooth bark around it because the hole is already filled in.” I pull a spile—the metal spigot that's used to tap maple from the trees—from my backpack, plug it into the fresh hole and ham-mer it into place. Then Janni attaches the metal top of the plastic bag onto the spile. She tugs at it a couple of times to make sure it's secure.

“Yeah, that's true. It's pretty cool, really.” She holds the drill against her left shoulder and marches to the next tree. “Don't you miss this, Char?” She positions the drill for the next hole, and we go through the routine again.

The tangy scent of bark and forest mingle with the cold air. A clear blue sky shines above us as we crunch over the hard earth, crusted with the frigid layer of winter.

“I do miss this place. The forest is so peaceful. I especially love to walk through the sugar bush,” I say, referring to the grove of maples that are tapped for sweetness. A melancholy mood sweeps over me as I realize there's not an ounce of sweetness left in me these days.

“Now you have quiet walks along the beach.” Janni drills the next hole. I plug in the spile, and we finish off another tree for tapping. “I can't imagine having a view of the ocean from my living room the way you do.”

“It is wonderful,” I say, thankful for my life in Maine, yet wondering why my past life won't let me go—or is it the other way around? “You should bring your friends up sometime.”

Janni gives me a sideways glance. “This coming from Miss I-want-to-be-alone?”

“I told you, you're always invited. You know that.” We walk a little further. “It might surprise you to know that I entertain on a fairly regular basis.”

“Do tell.”

“Yep. Peter and I together, really. He's more of the socialite than I am.”

“And do you have the meals catered?”

“No. Peter's a frustrated chef. But if he didn't make it, I'd send for a caterer.”

Jani shakes her head. “Well, you're doing better than me. I haven't entertained in a couple of months. Just not in the mood for company—outside of family, I mean.”

“Look Janni, I'm no doctor, but you seem a little depressed. Is every-thing all right?”

She turns to me. “That's just it. Everything is fine. I have no idea what's going on with me. My moods are up and down.”

“It happens at this stage in our lives. Our hormones get messed up.”

“I'm not as old as you, Char. No offense.”

Okay, she's in denial. “Well, I'm not exactly aged wood, but whatever.”

“I have to say I'm impressed that you're still seeing Peter,” she says, quickly changing the subject. “This one's lasted—what?—six months?” We stop at the next tree and run through the routine for tapping. The smells of a hot drill and bark chips permeate the air while bits of wood spray about.

“Ew, that does sound serious, doesn't it?”

“Wealth, a busy dating life, lots of friends—you've got it all, Char.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say that. But you can,” I tease to cover the shadow over my heart.

“Char, this is just sister-to-sister here.”

I brace myself.

“Do you think you'll ever be able to care about anyone again the way you cared about Eddie?”

“Eddie who?”

“Ha-ha.”

We stand in front of another tree, and she turns to me. “I'm not going to drill until you answer.”

“No one has ever come close.” My throat clenches around the words, making them barely audible.

Janni lifts the drill and begins to bore a hole in the next tree, just the way Eddie put a hole in my heart so many years ago . . .

“If you don't mind, as a follow-up, I thought I
would check on the trees that we tapped on Saturday,” Daniel says, already heading toward the front door. “It will be too dark to see if I don't get out there pretty soon.”

“How about we go with you?” Janni finishes tying the loop on her work boots, I pull on my coat, and we join him at the door.

“I'll clean up the kitchen,” Mom calls from the next room.

“Thanks,” Janni calls over her shoulder as we step outside.

“I'm going to check out the property, so I'd better take the truck. You want to go with me or walk?” Daniel asks.

“We'll walk and meet you there,” Janni says.

He nods and heads for his truck while we walk toward the trees.

“You didn't have to come. I just had to get out of the house and away from—” Janni stops herself.

“She's getting to you too?”

“Yes.”

“I didn't think anybody got to you.”

“Are you kidding? ‘You need less flour in your gravy, Janni. It's too lumpy. Too many marshmallows in the sweet potatoes. Did you see that curtain move? Is someone else in this house?' I want to lock her in her room.”

This coming from my passive sister makes me laugh out loud. Then she joins me.

When we quiet down she says, “Guess I shouldn't complain. She put up with enough from me in my teenage years.”

My sister drips with sweetness. Sometimes I just want to slap her. Okay, I don't mean that, but I haven't had a sweet thought in, well, years. The least she could do is throw a healthy fit once in a while.

“To quote a wise woman, ‘You need to let it go.'”

She looks at me and smiles. “Okay, okay.”

Daniel pulls up in the truck and gets out. He tugs gently on the spiles to make sure they're secure as we go from tree to tree. “Good job, girls.”

Janni smiles and winks at me.

Daniel takes off his cap, runs impatient fingers through his hair, then yanks the cap back on. “The sap's dripping along. We've got to line up some help, and fast.”

“I'll call around tomorrow and see if I can get some helpers,” Janni says.

Daniel nods. “You girls want a ride back to the house?”

“You can,” Janni says to me, her feet barely trudging along. “I need to check on the animals.”

“I'll help you.” Wow, I'm having a Janni moment. All sweet and helpful. Must be from hanging out with the maples.

“Suit yourself,” Daniel calls over his shoulder with a wave.

“Boy, I'm tired,” Janni says. “It doesn't look like all that much work, but when you get into it, it takes a lot of effort.”

“Sure does,” I say.

“After I go into the house and check on Mom and Daniel, I think I'll work a little on the scrapbook. That always calms me down. I'm really glad you came up with the idea to do it out in the barn. Though it's cold, the solitude will be great out there.”

“Does that mean you don't want me to help you?”

“Not at all. I just mean it gives me space away from Mom. Bless her heart.”

We laugh together.

“I've missed you, Char. No one understands me the way you do.” She slides open the barn door.

Her comment surprises me. She shares a deep friendship with her friends. Surely, they know her better than I do. I've always envied that about her. My friends are the surface type. The ones who come over for barbecues and talk about the weather, politics, and work, but their conversation never ventures into, say, why I have never remarried. Not that I could answer. How can I when I don't know myself?

In no time, the barn is alive with Mr. Ed's breath blowing through his nostrils, the scrape of iron against the wooden floor as he paws the ground, and the soft mew of hungry kittens. I bump into the bulb dangling from the extension, then walk over and tighten the cord so it's out of harm's way.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just startled me.” I keep my eye on the swinging bulb.

Janni adjusts herself on the stool near Elsie. Picking up the kittens' food bowl, I walk it over to Janni and hold it low enough for her to position Elsie's, um, spigot directly over the bowl, give it several squirts, then walk it back to where I picked it up, the kittens all the while clamoring around my feet.

“Do you ever wonder if this is it, Char? I mean, our lives are half over.”

“Whoa. Hold everything. How did we go from our past to being one step away from having the dirt kicked over us?” I stand and brush debris from my hands while the kittens go after the milk. My back catches a moment, and I do a couple of waist twists.

She chuckles. “I don't know. Just thinking how fast time goes.”

“What's with the pondering life thing? Your birthday is still in August, right?”

“Yes. I was just thinking out loud, I guess.”

“Well, stop it.”

She looks at me a minute, and we both start laughing. The conversation then moves to her boys, and suddenly I feel bad that I've cut her off. Maybe she wanted to talk about something important, and I stopped her with my stupid joking around. Mom's words come back to me: “There is a time to joke and a time to be silent.”

Why can't I ever get things right?

“That banty rooster was at it again today,” Mom
says when we step inside. “I got after him with the broom.”

I lock eyes with Wiggles. He creeps back onto his perch and eats sunflower seeds as though he's not the least worried about the broom. But so help me, I'll wallop him good if he ever claws at me like that again. Without thought I kick off my shoes and rub my sore heels.

“Sometimes he needs that,” Janni says, pulling off her shoes and sagging onto the other end of the sofa, across from Mom. “Where's Daniel?”

I take a seat in the recliner nearby where I can keep a watchful eye on the sofa.