Reinventing Leona (5 page)

But when he surprised the kids with a puppy, they thought the blond cocker looked more like a Tater Tot than a Peanut. The name stuck, thus ending the enviable chocolate streak. Relieved her tenderhearted husband would not feel compelled to purchase another mouth to feed when the rest of the candy bar died off, Leona set to work housebreaking Tater.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed. Leona picked up her cup and rose, careful not to disturb Tater. She went to the sink and poured the untouched coffee down the drain. Rinsing away the brown splatters, she thought about how smoothly her daughter’s homecoming had gone.

Around midnight, Cotton delivered Maddie and for the first time in months Leona had finally been able to wrap her arms around her wayward daughter. While they clung to each other, Leona was relieved that she was unable to detect any of the animosity she expected. In fact, Maddie fell into her arms the way she had as a child when she needed her mother to fix yet another boo-boo. If only a Band-Aid would make this nasty gash better.

Leona stashed her rinsed cup in the dishwasher. “Okay, so you were right, J.D. All things
do
work together for good, but why this way?” She closed the dishwasher and returned to her deserted chair, the chill of the linoleum numbing her feet and beginning to register with her despondent brain.

Truth was, tragedy could go either way. After years in the ministry, she had witnessed adversity’s ability to mend broken fences or completely destroy any hope of reconciliation. She gathered her robe and lowered onto the seat. What would this disaster do to her family? Would their differences be forgiven and forgotten? Far too early to tell, in her opinion.

Tater stretched and pressed a hairy paw against Leona’s leg. Now that she thought about it, Leona couldn’t help but worry. Maybe the tears had blurred her ability to see clearly into Maddie’s heart. Maybe she had been so wrapped up in the overwhelming emotion of the moment that she had seen what she wanted to see . . . a daughter who wanted her mother’s comfort. But Maddie hadn’t needed her mother in years.
What if my self-sufficient daughter never does?

Leona rubbed the raw spot Tater pressed on her flesh. She had tried to get some sleep after she got Maddie settled, but neither she nor Tater Tot could make themselves climb into that empty king-sized bed.

Dog and master paced the floors all night listening to the comforting settlings of the eighty-year-old parsonage. Leona knew every sound of this old house as well as she knew her own body. From the rattle of the old pipes to the rumble of the ancient furnace waking from its slumber in the basement, Leona could predict their next major repair with amazing accuracy. But the work and expense did not deter her love affair with making this place their home. From her first step onto the large wraparound porch, she felt as if she’d been called to Abraham’s bosom. J.D., she remembered, shook his head and groaned like God had sent him to Canaan.

Together, they’d spent their years in Mt. Hope restoring all the baseboards and moldings, patching every crack in the plaster, dealing with temperamental plumbing, and learning to replace fuses each time someone plugged in a hair dryer while the portable dishwasher gyrated across the kitchen floor.

J.D. balked at each improvement project Leona proposed, but combining the pastor’s handyman skills with her decorating sense had saved the church thousands of dollars and turned the embarrassment of Church Street into a home anyone could be proud of.

Suddenly, the kitchen light flipped on, startling Leona from her recollections.

“I’ll be lucky if I don’t break a hip or blow a knee on those blasted stairs.” Leona’s mother hobbled over to the counter and thumped the glass coffee carafe. “How old is this stuff?”

“Let me make a fresh pot, Mother.” Leona scurried to the coffeemaker, lifted the pot, and poured the darkened contents down the drain. “Sleep well?” How many years would it take before her mother’s presence would not tangle her tongue into meaningless babble?

“How could I, on that lumpy mattress?” Using the toe of her pointed slipper, Mother prodded Tater Tot from his repose in front of her chair.

Weariness settled on Leona’s shoulders. “You gave us that mattress.”

“Thirty years ago. It’s a shame you could never afford to replace things.” Her mother brushed crumbs from the rickety chair, shaking her head in disapproval at Tater Tot’s enthusiasm over his domestic chore of licking them up. “David home?”

“Not yet. Melvin called. They should be here soon.”

Eyeing the seat, Mother lowered herself. She drummed her manicured nails on the Formica tabletop. “So have you made any plans, Leona?”

What was it about her mother that reminded Leona of a recurring nightmare in which she was the only one who showed up at church wearing pajamas while everyone else was dressed to the nines? “I thought I’d wait for David. I think he and Maddie should have some say about the funeral.”

“I’m not talking about the funeral. I mean, have you made plans for your life?”

Leona raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“For one, where are you going to live?” Her mother’s voice was void of compassion.

“Here. This is my home.”

“No, it’s not. This hovel belongs to the church. Now that J.D. is dead, I can’t imagine the Christians letting you squat here for free. That can’t be good for business.”

The blunt proclamation waylaid Leona, as if the icy hand of truth had just slapped her across the face. Her mother was right; this wasn’t her house. She’d lived here so long, she’d forgotten . . . no, willed herself to blot that small fact from her conscious thinking. How else could she make a borrowed house a home for her family?

Forbidding any exposure of the host of dawning fears clawing her insides, Leona struggled to maintain her composure. “Mother, I—”

“Secondly, how are you going to support yourself, Leona?” Her mother seemed oblivious to the interruption—and the panic brimming on the edge of Leona’s lashes. She picked up the newspaper lying on the table and rolled the rubber band down the cylinder. “Surely you’re not counting on cashing in all those make-believe stars the pastor was adding to his heavenly crown to buy your groceries.”

“Mother, that’s enough. God will provide.” Leona hoped her voice possessed the conviction she’d relied upon for the past thirty years, because her doubtful knees were about to drop her on the floor.

Her mother aimed a shiny red nail in her direction. “He’d better, Leona, because I doubt that loser husband of yours had a cent of life insurance to his name, let alone a decent investment portfolio.”

Tater Tot’s ears pricked; then he went ballistic, followed by the squeaky hinges of the front door.

“That’s David.” Leona came and stood in front of her mother, feeling like a child asking for permission to play outside. “For your grandson’s sake, could you please keep your opinions of J.D. to yourself? David loved his father.” Leona allowed her mind a moment to pause on the kaleidoscope of memories of her two guys huddled together at this very table, poring over adventure magazines and plotting their next backpacking trip into the wilderness.

Her mother gave a noncommittal shrug. “My lips are sealed.” She drew an airy line across her smug lips, twisted an imaginary key, then tossed it over her shoulder.

Despite her mother’s placating country club smile, Leona thought hell had a better chance of freezing over.

* * * * *

The roar outside Maddie’s window woke her with a start.
Who mows grass in November?
She snatched her pillow and held it tight against her head.

Maddie rolled over on her back, squinting against the sun slicing through the cracks of the yellowed roller shade.
Where am I?
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then forced them to skim the room’s flowered wallpaper. A row of faded homecoming mums lining one wall and tarnished Bible Bowl trophies filling the shelves of an old bookcase on the other came into focus.
Home.

The smell of coffee and bacon wafted up from the kitchen, reminding Maddie of Daddy’s day off. While other fathers dashed out the door on Monday morning to start their workweek, the pastor took his day of rest. Momma always marked the importance of the sacred time with pancakes and crispy bacon. Maddie closed her eyes and breathed in deeply of the comforting scent, awaiting her father’s delivery of Momma’s special brew: milk and sugar, with a hint of coffee for color.

Reality pounced on Maddie’s chest. Daddy wouldn’t be tapping on her door. Ever again. A sinking sensation soured her empty stomach. Tears stung her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

Throwing back the patchwork quilt the Story sisters had pieced together for her high school graduation present, Maddie stomped to the window and yanked on the bottom of the shade. Dust flew in all directions as the brittle vinyl zipped out of her hands and wrapped around the ancient roller. Maddie pounded on the paned glass, but the stocking-cap-clad man blowing leaves off the sidewalk kept his back to her, giving no indication he heard her protests.

“Hell’s bells . . .” Maddie brushed away the streaks on her face, grabbed the ratty terry cloth robe hanging on the back of her bedroom door, and stormed down the stairs. She burst into the kitchen, determined to swat the mosquito buzzing outside her window.

“David!” Maddie’s anger melted immediately. She ran and fell into the open arms of her big brother. “When did you get here?”

A barking Tater Tot circled their legs, demanding the attention due him.

“A few minutes ago.” He pulled back and gave her a perusing look. “So, Dr. Harper, is this the latest in professional attire?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, a teasing disapproval lighting his tired face.

Maddie gathered her robe closed and belted the sash. “Starving med students lack the luxuries of the jet-set.” She kissed her brother’s cheek. “How’s the Queen?”

Momma cleared her throat and handed her a cup of steaming coffee. “I was just making David and your
grandmother
an omelet.” Pursed-lipped, she motioned for Maddie to look behind her. “Care to join them?”

Embarrassed heat blazed up Maddie’s neck. She swallowed and turned. “Grandmother. You’re up early.”

Her grandmother peered over the edge of the paper. “I’m sorry I missed your arrival last night, Madison.”

Sure she was.
Roberta Worthington made it clear years ago that the limited space in her heart was reserved for only one grandchild. David had been declared the lucky winner simply because he was born first and looked like their mother. The enviable position came complete with a paid education and exotic graduation trips after each degree. Maddie, who resembled her father, received a down comforter, snow tires, and Grandmother’s declaration that doctors make plenty of money to pay off their med school loans.

Momma had tried to soften the old witch’s inequities by reminding Maddie how much her grandfather adored her before he died. Leona Harper could sell wind in a bag, but she could not lessen the sting of Grandmother’s ugly slight.

“I’m not really hungry.” Maddie sipped the coffee her mother had sugared and creamed to perfection. “Where’s Melvin?” She leaned against the counter and ran a bare foot over Tater’s bouncing back, hoping the extra attention would calm him.

“I sent him to the motel.” Grandmother snapped the paper up in front of her face. “Leona, do something with that yapping dog.”

“Tater, no bark.” Maddie’s mother snagged the worn collar with one hand, then touched her daughter’s arm with the other. “We’ve got a lot to decide today. The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll have the worst of it behind us.”

“I can’t believe you’re in such a hurry to get Daddy behind us.”

Momma’s face looked as if a cup of cold water had been thrown at it. “Maddie, I didn’t mean—”

Maddie regretted the pain her accusations inflicted, knowing full well Momma dreaded this day as much as she. But she stood rigid, unwilling to retrieve the cutting words. What kind of a doctor wanted the whole world to hurt, drawing blood at every turn?

The back door opened and the blustery breeze swept into the kitchen, momentarily relieving her burning shame. Tater Tot broke free of her mother’s hold and charged the intruder.

“Mrs. Harper?” The man with the leaf blower stepped into the kitchen. He removed his stocking cap. Static cling commanded his thick, black hair to stand at attention. “Anything else I can do for you before I head to work?”

“Parker Kemp?” Maddie stared at the impressive broad-shouldered, six-foot-four frame of what had once been the youth group’s resident gangly geek.

“Hey, Maddie. You look great.” Absently patting Tater’s bobbing head, Parker flashed a brace-free smile that lit up his tanned face. “When did you get in?”

Maddie closed her gaping jaw. “Last night.” She held the top of her robe closed with one hand, balancing her coffee cup with the other. “What are you doing here?”

Momma reached behind the transfixed young man and shut the kitchen door, her face a picture of balance restored. “Parker lives in Mt. Hope. He is our county extension agent.” She retrieved Tater Tot from Parker’s leg. An awkward silence fell over the kitchen. Momma remained uncharacteristically quiet, not jumping in with her usual conversation starters to rescue the situation.

David’s head turned from his mum mother to his fidgeting sister to a paralyzed Parker. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, hand extended. “Good to see you, man.”

Parker jerked with surprise and shifted the leaf blower. “You too.” He pumped David’s hand with astounding vigor. “How’s England?”

“Great.” David broke free, flexing his fingers as if his circulation needed restoring.

Her brother’s avoidance of Momma’s eyes did not get past Maddie. While she envied his perpetual-student status, she had to give David credit for dodging Momma’s ideas for his life, even if he was having trouble finding his way in the world.

“How about some breakfast, Parker?” Momma returned to the bacon sizzling on the stove, finally breaking the uncomfortable lapse with her admirable ability to put everyone at ease. A skill Maddie had always envied.