How Sweet It Is - Alice J. Wisler [59]
Immediately, I feel a blanket of embarrassment spread over me, tucking me in at every side. If they are brothers, and right now they appear to be close, then how much of what I’ve told Jonas has he shared with Zack?
I watch Jonas now; surely he wouldn’t have told Zack everything? Yet the comment Zack made about knowing I was engaged… So Jonas did tell his brother. I feel like suddenly the cloud has been lifted and I am seeing with 20/20 vision.
It is hard to concentrate on chocolate cookies and coffee when you’re trying to come to grips with the fact that two people you respect in very different ways share the same mother and father.
Marble Gray stops by my table and asks if Sinatra can have another cookie. She tells me that he just had surgery and almost died and oh, please, just one sugar cookie?
Rainy is about to tell her she needs to pay for the baked goods, I can feel it.
Quickly, I hand Marble an oatmeal cookie, and as she smiles and walks away, Rainy protests.
“Maybe she’ll go home soon,” I tell Rainy.
“She better,” says the girl as she forces air from her mouth. “I’m tired of her cheating people.”
twenty-eight
Night has fallen, and the church is nearly empty. Miriam went home, congratulating me on an excellent bake sale. Jonas sailed off in his truck, waving goodbye to his brother and saying he’d be by Zack’s later to check the pipes. My tiered cake was auctioned by Zack and made $80. Marble Gray wanted it, but the pink-curlered cheapskate was only willing to bid $11.50. Darren’s grandma offered $32 and Charlotte’s sister, Cindy, went up to $40. Aunt Regena Lorraine said she’d pay $50 and then someone yelled out $60 and before I could catch my breath, the bidding ended at $80. A couple about to celebrate their forty-fifth wedding anniversary carried it off in their silver sedan, looking almost as happy as the day they were married.
I’m in the kitchen washing out the coffeepots and thermoses we used for the coffee we sold. It was a good day, I think. The kids were on their best behavior and remembered to thank people for buying. Miriam counted the money and said we made $265.75. That’ll be enough to pay for the campsite and buy firewood and food for all the meals. There is also other money that has come in because Bubba and Bobby mowed lawns and pulled weeds for a few church members last weekend.
Zack enters the kitchen and places a pitcher that held cream on the counter. Then he sees me at the sink. Sometimes it feels like I spend my life at the kitchen sink.
“You could get the kids to wash the dishes,” he tells me.
I could, I think. But the question is, would they? Sometimes if you want a job done well and without complaints, the easiest way is to do it yourself.
Zack grins. “Things went smoothly today.”
“I think the world of Jonas,” I say. I smile as I think of how much he has added to my life. How he sings entire verses of Eagles songs to me, not just a line or two. His voice isn’t bad. He sang the other day, “ ‘Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy,’ ” which made me think, was that song penned for me? He’s always eager to try a new recipe I come up with, even the one that was more or less a failure the other night—squash biscotti.
Zack picks up a towel from the counter and a bowl from the drainer. “I’m sorry about Lucas.”
I hate hearing that name from Zack’s lips. Dismissing the subject, I say, “Oh, that’s all over.” Mom always said to act like nothing bothers you, that a real woman is an expert at covering her emotions with a slight lowering of her eyes. I focus on the dishwater, all the filmy suds.
“It hasn’t been that much time.” His words filter through the kitchen and grapple with my heart.
I want to say in a nonchalant tone, “Time? Who needs time?
I’m a picture of health and happiness right now.” Instead, I mumble, “I’m sorry about