How Sweet It Is Read online

  “And what do you do?” Trixie asked, intruding on his thoughts.

  “I have my own company. We develop computer—”

  “You’re a nerd?” Trixie’s eyes widened. “You don’t look like one.”

  He laughed. “Thanks. I think.”

  “You should at least wear glasses.”

  “Trix. Really.” Holly blushed. “What a thing to say.”

  This wasn’t the first time Jed had seen the pink rise in her cheeks. He thought it made her blue eyes look even bluer.

  Trixie wasn’t about to be diverted. “Are you thinking of relocating your company to Boise?”

  “Well, no. That isn’t why I—”

  “I just thought, since you rented the apartment for three months, maybe you’re scoping out the business scene. It’s strong, you know. Boise’s among the fastest-growing cities in the US. Great for the workforce.” The younger sister’s eyes widened. “You should talk to my fiancé. Brett’s an attorney, and he knows so many people here in the Treasure Valley. I’ll bet he could help you make up your mind.”

  Strange, how the idea seemed to strike a chord with him. Maybe he wouldn’t mind coming back to Idaho. Laffriot’s success didn’t depend upon its physical location. Assuming that he got Chris to come around and their dad didn’t shut down the company for good.

  Saturday, July 12, 1969

  Using the cane forced upon him by the doctor and family members, Andrew made his way slowly beyond the chicken coop to the edge of the alfalfa fields. Three weeks had passed since the first cutting of hay was baled, stacked, and most of it trucked away. Now the field was deep green with new growth, on its way toward the second cutting of the season. The morning air smelled sweet with it.

  During the war years, Andrew had grown mostly corn on these forty acres. And in the years since, he’d tried other crops off and on, rotating fields, letting some ground rest now and again. But there was something about the alfalfa fields that called to him. He couldn’t say for sure what it was. Perhaps he simply liked looking at them. Perhaps it was nostalgia.

  “Grandpa?”

  He turned to watch Grant’s approach. Except for the brown hair, his grandson bore a striking resemblance to his dad—tall, blue-eyed, and handsome.

  “Does Grandma know you’re out here?”

  “No.”

  “You know she worries when you walk on uneven ground.”

  “She’ll have to get used to it. God didn’t pave the world.”

  Grant chuckled. “No, He didn’t.”

  “What are you up to this morning?”

  “I’m making some repairs on the shed next to the hay barn.”

  “Need a hand?”

  “Grandma would tan us both.”

  “Then I’ll simply observe.” Andrew moved forward with slow, careful steps.

  Grant turned on his heel to walk beside his grandfather.

  “Are we going to see Charlotte this weekend?”

  “Yes, she’s coming tonight for dinner, and Grandma invited her to use the spare room and stay the night, then go to church with us in the morning.”

  “That’ll be nice. I don’t imagine the two of you are getting much alone time since you’ve been staying on the farm.”

  “Not as much as we’d like, but she’s cool with it. She knows I’m happiest here, so she hasn’t complained.”

  Andrew glanced over at Grant. “She’s a sweet girl, your Charlotte.”

  “I know. I think I knew the moment I met her that she was the one for me. Was it like that between you and Grandma?”

  “In some ways. We fell in love young, but I was determined to do something different with my life rather than farming. So I went off to the university with that in mind.”

  “I can’t imagine you doing anything else.”

  “I guess God couldn’t either, because He sure got me back to it soon enough.” Andrew drew in a deep breath. “I must’ve been crazy to think I’d want to live in the city, away from all this.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “But I suppose the day is coming when I may have to make that change.” He frowned. It was the first time he’d said that to anyone, although he’d thought it numerous times since his back troubles started.

  Grant stopped walking. “You’d give up the farm?”

  “I might have to, though I hate the thought of it. I’m sure I could lease the land to another farmer, but I don’t think that would give your grandmother and me enough to live on. God willing, we’ve a lot of years still to live, and we haven’t got much in the way of savings. This land’s all we’ve got of any value. You know how it is. Most farmers go from month to month or year to year.” He smiled ruefully. “A good year might have meant braces on somebody’s teeth or a newer car or a piece of much-needed equipment. A bad year meant using whatever reserves there were and holding on until the next good year.”

  “It’s still the kind of life I want. Wish I could buy it from you.”

  Andrew felt his heart stutter. “You’d want to buy this farm? I thought you were looking farther west and for more than forty acres.”

  “Grandpa, there’s no place I’d rather be than the Henning farm if I could swing the price and you were ready to sell.” His grandson’s gaze swept over the fields and barnyard. “I love it here. But I’m years away from being able to buy a farm. Any farm.”

  “I suppose.” Andrew’s gaze went to the house, and he lost himself in thought for a long while. Finally, he said, “You know, I was always going to remodel our home, add on more rooms, maybe even tear it down and build a whole new one. Would’ve been nice if I could have done that for your grandmother.”

  “The place must’ve been bursting at the seams when your kids were little.”

  “Yes. Helen’s mother lived with us, too, until she passed.”

  “That’s a lot of people under one roof.”

  “It was indeed.” He nodded, picturing his family in his mind. “Now it’s next to impossible to get everybody back to the farm at the same time. They’re all rushing this way and that. Things were simpler when your dad and his brothers and sisters were young and at home.”

  Andrew shook his head slowly. He’d become a sentimental fool, starting to think the past was better than the present. That was an old man’s game. Had the Great Depression been simple? Had World War II been easy? Of course not.

  He looked at Grant. “We’d better get over to that shed. The day’s heating up. You need to get to work, and I need to find a comfy bit of shade to sit in where I can observe and advise.”

  The two of them laughed as they walked on.

  Chapter 6

  Holly was hurrying toward the sanctuary doorways on Sunday when she heard someone call her name. She stopped and turned to see Kelly Foreman, the women’s ministry leader, coming to meet her.

  “So glad I caught you.” Kelly gave her a quick hug. “You look good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Listen. I heard that you’re helping ladies from Lighthouse with cooking lessons. I was wondering if you’d be willing to do something similar with our MOPS gals.”

  “MOPS?”

  “Mothers of Preschoolers. We have a group that meets here at the church. A lot of these moms are just kids themselves. Some don’t know anything about how to prepare good meals for their little ones. Especially on teeny-tiny budgets.”

  “I don’t know that I could do another class like that every week.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean every week. Once a month would be awesome. Or even once every quarter. We could do it in the church kitchen. The program provides child care, so the moms would be free to really pay attention.”

  A brief tug of war took place in Holly’s heart. She loved the lessons she gave on Monday mornings at the restaurant. Those weekly sessions had saved her from giving in to despair. Perhaps she would feel the same way about helping with the MOPS gals. But adding one more thing to her schedule felt impossible.

  “Don’t an
swer me now,” Kelly said. “Pray about it and let me know. You’ve got my number.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  Kelly’s gaze shifted, and her expression said she’d seen someone else she wanted to talk to. With a tiny wave, she was off again.

  A few moments later, bulletin in hand, Holly stepped through the sanctuary doors. As the service hadn’t started yet, many people were still standing, milling about, visiting with friends. She was greeted with smiles and waves as she slowly made her way toward her usual row of chairs.

  Holly had made Covenant Fellowship her church home soon after buying the house on Jefferson Street. She’d visited several churches after her move to Boise, and all had made her welcome. Most had pastors who preached good sermons. But she’d known on her first Sunday at Covenant that this was where she belonged.

  She was about to sit down when a man in the aisle up ahead turned. Jed Henning. Even though he’d told her he had family who attended Covenant, she hadn’t expected to see him here. Maybe because he hadn’t responded to Trixie’s less than subtle suggestion.

  He stepped toward her. “Morning, Holly.”

  “Good morning.”

  “I forgot to ask which service you attended, so I wasn’t sure I’d see you.” He glanced around the sanctuary. “Big enough we could have missed each other.”

  She nodded.

  “Let me introduce you to my family.” He cupped his hand beneath her elbow and drew her several rows forward. Seeing her, two men rose to their feet, the older a man who looked to be in his seventies, the younger a man who appeared to be close to the same age as Jed.

  “Grant, Ben, this is Holly Stanford. Holly, my cousin Ben Henning and his grandfather, Grant Henning.”

  Grant grinned. “Jed’s landlady?”

  “One and the same.”

  “I’ve seen you here before, haven’t I?”

  “Maybe.” She glanced behind her. “Most Sundays I sit back there.”

  “Well, this is a pleasure. I can’t believe Jed is living in that apartment, all of these years later, and here you and I go to the same church. What are the odds?”

  “I’m sorry. The odds?” She looked from one man to the other.

  “Didn’t Jed tell you? My grandparents lived in your basement apartment as newlyweds. And now he’s staying there.”

  Her gaze locked back on Jed. “No, he didn’t tell me.”

  “Long story,” he answered. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  Grant motioned to the row of chairs. “Join us. Please.” The two men immediately moved two spaces to their left.

  No one awaited her several rows back, and she decided that refusing the older man’s request would be rude, so she nodded and took the open seat between Grant and Jed.

  The worship band members began taking their places on the stage. At the same time, the lights in the sanctuary dimmed. Voices throughout the large room faded as many scurried to their own seats. When the music began, Holly rose to her feet, singing. Beside her, Jed joined in. He had a good voice. A strong voice.

  A wave of sadness swept over her, not completely unexpected. These same emotions had come and gone over the past year, although less frequently in recent months. Her throat tightened, catching the words in her throat. If she’d been alone, she would have slipped from the row of chairs and escaped to the restroom where she could take refuge in a stall, hidden away from prying eyes. Where she could have given in to the tears. But she wasn’t alone. She couldn’t leave without asking Jed to move out of her way, and for some reason, having him see that she was fighting tears seemed worse than staying where she was.

  O God. O God. O God. Please.

  She’d been doing much better. She’d been getting stronger with the passage of time. The feelings of betrayal and of distrust had lessened, slowly but surely. Or so she’d believed. She hadn’t wept in church in months. Was it due to the growing stress over the restaurant, to the lack of money, to the constant decision making? Or was it because, even as she stood between these two men, she knew she had to face all her troubles on her own?

  I hate this the most, God. I hate being weak. I hate being afraid. I hate not being in control of my emotions, of crying for no reason. That’s not me. Or it didn’t used to be. Don’t let it be me. Change me, please.

  * * *

  Following the morning service, Jed accepted Grant’s invitation out to lunch, but Ben wasn’t able to join them. He had to pick up his fiancée at the airport. Holly would have been invited, too, but she’d hurried away at the end of the service, leaving Jed wondering if he’d said something wrong.

  Once Jed and Grant were seated in a booth at a restaurant not far from the church, Jed asked, “How soon’s Ben’s wedding?”

  “Late September. It’s going to be a cowboy service. Bride and groom on horseback. Maybe the minister too. Lucky for me, the guests are allowed to sit in chairs if they so choose.”

  “I’ve heard of couples getting married while skydiving or scuba diving. Never pictured a wedding with horses.”

  “I’m told it isn’t unheard of. I guess you can even buy horseback wedding packages in places like Vegas and the Smoky Mountains. Probably around these parts too.” Grant chuckled. “This wedding will be far more casual than those specialty ones. Ben and Ashley are determined to keep the costs down.”

  “Will it be at the farm?”

  “Yes. And we’re praying the weather’ll be good.”

  “I hope to see it for myself.”

  A waiter arrived with water and to take their orders. When they were alone again, Grant said, “Do you plan to still be in Boise in September?”

  “I doubt it.” Silently Jed added, I hope not. “But it’s a quick flight from Tacoma, so that’s not an issue. If I’m invited, I’ll be there.”

  “Of course you’re invited. Hopefully your folks and Chris will be here too.” Grant took a sip from his water glass.

  Uncertainty tightened Jed’s chest for a few seconds. What should he say? The truth, his heart answered. “Grant, you know what’s going on with my parents, don’t you?”

  The confused expression on his cousin’s face told Jed that he didn’t.

  “They’ve separated.”

  Grant’s eyes widened. “No,” he whispered.

  “Yes. A few months ago.”

  “I didn’t know. No one’s said a word about it.”

  “Dad’s kept it quiet. He hopes he and Mom can reconcile.”

  “Do you think they can?”

  Jed shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what the trouble is. They fought a lot about Chris when he was still at home, but that was a while ago. Maybe they just grew apart. Maybe one of them—”

  “Don’t try to tell me more, son. It’s their business. Not mine. I shouldn’t have asked. But I’ll pray for them.”

  Praying was more than Jed had done. About any of it. About his parents’ marriage. About his brother. About work or his personal life, what there was of it. The knowledge shamed him. He called himself a Christian, but he hadn’t been living as one. At least not in the way he wanted. He hadn’t made church a priority in a long while. He hadn’t read his Bible on a daily basis. He was making an effort to change that, and he hoped it would become more of a habit as time passed.

  “Have you met Ashley yet?” Grant asked, obviously wanting a change of subject.

  “No. Not yet. She wasn’t at the farm the day I was there.”

  “You’ll like her.”

  “I’m sure I will. One thing for sure, Ben loves her. It’s written all over his face when he talks about her.”

  “Indeed.” Grant took another sip of water. “Your landlady seems nice too.”

  Jed cocked an eyebrow, wondering at the abrupt change of subject. Was the older man trying to play the part of matchmaker? That wouldn’t be wise. Nonetheless, Jed had spent a pleasant time with Holly and her sister two days earlier. He couldn’t contradict Grant’s assessment. “She is nice.”

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sp; “I hope you won’t mind if I drop by the apartment sometime. I’d love a look at it myself. Who would have thought a descendant of Andrew and Helen Henning would be staying there almost a hundred years later?” Grant shook his head, chuckling softly.

  “It’s temporary, but yes, it is kind of a surprise that I’ve wound up there.”

  Over lunch their conversation shifted to other members of the family. Eventually Jed shared about the boxes he’d started to go through, and even without seeing the photographs and letters, Grant was able to answer some of the questions they’d stirred to life.

  “One more reason for me to come by for a visit,” the older man said. “If I’d known those boxes have been moldering in a garage all this time, I would have claimed them ages ago. How did your dad even find out about them?”

  “Not sure, to be honest. I didn’t ask.”

  Grant gave him a thoughtful look. “Perhaps watching his own family break apart, your father is in need of the comfort his roots can provide. Going through those old photos and letters may be just the balm he needs.”

  Jed’s first instinct was to reject the notion, but then he wasn’t feeling generous when it came to his dad. Jed would be back in Tacoma right now if his father hadn’t demanded something be done about Chris and, as usual, given Jed the task of fixing things.

  “Son, relationships can be messy. No marriage is easy all the time. Don’t judge your parents too harshly. You can’t know the whole picture. You don’t have all the facts, no matter how much you might think you do.”

  Again, Jed wanted to argue. Again, he bit back the words.

  “For everything, there is a season,” Grant said softly.

  The comment made Jed wonder about the season he was in. Was it just about finding his brother and trying to repair their relationship? Or was there more to it than that? He hoped God would help him figure it out soon.

  Sunday, July 13, 1969

  It was Andrew’s first Sunday in church since his back troubles had begun. Getting into the church and to their regular pew was somewhat of an ordeal because so many friends and neighbors stopped him to ask how he was doing. He grew tired of answering, “Good. Good. Lots better.” Grant must have sensed his grandfather’s growing frustration, because he stepped in front of Andrew, shielding him from view, which allowed them to go the last few rows without interruption.