How Sweet It Is Page 8

  She nodded. “Why don’t you set the table while I whip up our dinner?” She pointed. “You’ll find everything you need in those two cupboards, and that’s the silverware drawer.” She indicated the drawer with another motion of her hand. “Then you can tell me about your ancestors who used to live in my basement. I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since I heard about the connection.”

  Jed was thankful she hadn’t asked what he’d been thinking. He would much rather tell her about the letter that had brought him to this address, ending with him as her renter. He knew that story had a good ending. He wasn’t so sure about the one involving him and Chris.

  Sunday, July 20, 1969

  Along with much of the world, Andrew and Helen listened when Neil Armstrong’s voice came across the airwaves, saying, “The Eagle has landed.”

  Helen shook her head. “I never thought we would actually make it there.”

  Andrew had to agree. When President Kennedy had set the goal of Americans going to the moon in that decade, he’d thought it an impossible dream. But why? In Andrew’s lifetime, horse-drawn vehicles had been replaced by automobiles, travel in airplanes had become commonplace, and polio had been all but eliminated. Why hadn’t he believed man could make it to the moon? Then he wondered what else he would see if he lived another twenty or even thirty years. He pictured his older grandchildren. In some ways, it was hard to believe their generation, with its unisex attire, long hair, and a desire to tune in and drop out—whatever that meant—would accomplish anything of consequence. So what would they see in their lifetimes in a world that often seemed to be going to the devil in a handbasket?

  Drawing his Bible from the nearby shelf, he closed his eyes and began to pray for all eight of his grandchildren—from the oldest at twenty-four to the youngest at only one year of age—asking the Father to draw each one of them to Jesus. Keep them close to You, Lord. Keep them close.

  Six and a half hours later, Grant joined his grandparents in the living room to witness Armstrong leave the lunar module for the first time. The television transmission was grainy, the audio crackly, as the astronaut descended the ladder. They all held their breaths until Armstrong’s large white boot touched the moon’s surface. “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

  “Wow,” Grant uttered.

  “Amen,” Andrew responded.

  The two men looked at each other, grinning.

  “If it weren’t for my bad back,” Andrew said, “I’d get up and do a jig.”

  Helen shot him a frown. “Don’t you do anything so foolish.” But the smile that appeared in the corners of her mouth removed any strength from the warning.

  “Don’t worry, my girl. I haven’t lost complete use of my faculties.”

  Although the moonwalk continued, the poor quality of the transmission made it easy for Andrew’s attention to wander. He brought up a few matters concerning the farm with Grant while Helen went to the kitchen to do some final tidying up. A short while later, the older couple left their grandson to finish watching the momentous occasion on the television while they retired for the night. A lifetime habit of “early to bed, early to rise” was hard to break. It didn’t matter if it was daylight until ten o’clock at this time of year. He and Helen were ready to turn in well before then.

  Even moving slowly for the sake of his back, it wasn’t long before his teeth were brushed and he was clad in his cotton pajamas. He slid between the sheets on the bed, bid his wife goodnight with a kiss on her cheek, and turned off the bedside lamp. A soft sigh escaped him as he turned onto his side. Then he said his silent goodnight to God, as was also his habit.

  Lord, it was a miraculous day for the astronauts, and it was a good day for the Hennings too. Thanks for seeing us through it. Thanks for another day to try to serve my own generation by Your will. I don’t feel as able as I’ve felt in the past, so help me do whatever I can without complaint. I’m trying not to be impatient with the process. I’m trying to wait on You as You would have me. But sometimes I feel useless. Grant has taken on so much while I must sit on the porch. So, if it be Your will, please heal my back. But no matter what, thanks again for this good day. Amen.

  Chapter 8

  Seated on the living room sofa, Trixie fixed Holly with her gaze. “Holly Stanford, you like him.”

  Holly shrugged, pretending the comment meant nothing to her, but she definitely regretted telling her sister that Jed had fixed her garage door, let alone about the dinner she’d shared with him afterward.

  “Don’t try to fool me or yourself. You really like him.”

  “Jed Henning is a nice man. You know that from the night you met him. And yes, he’s attractive. I can’t deny it. But I hardly know him, and I’m not likely to get to know him better. He won’t be here that long. He’s going back to Washington.”

  “No.” Trixie shook her head. “You’re interested in him.”

  Holly blew out a breath. “I’m not, Trix. I’m too busy with the restaurant and trying to keep my head above water. I don’t want to be involved with anybody. I’ve been down that road and it didn’t work. I don’t—” She stopped the confession from leaving her mouth, but finished silently, I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust my judgment.

  “You know, sis. There are more ways to fix a broken heart besides working until you drop. You can’t swear off all relationships because Nathan was a bad egg.” Trixie twisted a strand of hair. “And there is something to be said for that pull of attraction, even before you know a guy well. When I met Brett, everything inside of me went zing!”

  “Good for you. I’m glad you felt that way about him. But you and I are different.” She spoke firmly, leaving no doubt that she wanted to put an end to the subject. It brought up too many bad memories. She didn’t want a repeat of last Sunday, the sadness, the threat of tears. She might risk being friendly with a man, with someone like Jed. But she wouldn’t risk her heart again, no matter how nice he was.

  With determination, she picked up another bridal magazine from the coffee table and opened it. “What do you think about this dress?” She pointed to the first one, not caring what it looked like.

  Trixie wouldn’t be so easily distracted. “I remember, you know.”

  “Remember what?”

  “How devastated you were.”

  Holly stiffened.

  “I was here. I stayed with you for several weeks after Nathan broke things off. Remember? You cried yourself to sleep every night. It didn’t matter how much you tried to muffle the sound in your pillow. I could still hear you through the bedroom wall.”

  “What has that to do with anything? I’m over it. I’m long over Nathan.”

  “Not completely. He’s the reason you’ve closed yourself off. You’ve locked up your emotions. It’s like you’ve given up on the possibility of a real relationship. Given up on finding a real love. It’s as if you don’t think you can have it or maybe that you think you don’t deserve it. But you do deserve it. It was Nathan who didn’t deserve you.”

  Holly stood, fearing her sister’s words might shatter her resolve. “This conversation has gotten out of control.” She walked into the kitchen where she filled a glass with water and stood near the refrigerator, drinking it.

  “Sis, I love you. That’s all.” Trixie now stood in the archway between living room and kitchen.

  Holly put the glass on the counter. “I know you do.”

  “I’ll try not to interfere anymore.”

  Holly’s smile was bittersweet. She shook her head, knowing Trixie might try but she would never succeed. Her younger sister was, by nature, the one who wanted to be certain that everyone was as happy as she was, even if she was clueless about how to make it happen. “Come on, Trix. Let’s get back to those magazines. There’s a lot to get done.”

  The look in Trixie’s eyes said she knew she’d been forgiven. But, as if to be sure, she crossed the kitchen to give Holly a tight hug.

  * * *

&nb
sp; Jed stared at the short list of names on the screen of his laptop—names of his brother’s friends, people he thought Chris might trust with his whereabouts. Most of them, however, had been high school buddies. He wasn’t sure how many Chris had remained in touch with in the years since leaving school.

  “We’re strangers, Chris and me,” he whispered, leaning back in his chair.

  How much of the drifting apart was his fault? Could he have been more patient? Could he have said something or done something to straighten out his younger brother before it got this bad between them?

  Or maybe he’d said too much. Maybe he’d butted in when he shouldn’t have.

  He released a breath of frustration. Waste made him angry, and Chris had done nothing but waste his life and his talent. He was smart. Way smarter than he let on. He knew computers forward and backward. And his imagination. Whew. With or without all the Red Bull he chugged, Chris was always creating something new in his head. His mind raced at a hundred miles an hour. But he never would have done anything about any of that genius without Jed. It was Jed who’d harnessed Chris’s creativity and actually done something with it. Without Jed, Caliban would be nothing but an idea among dozens of others on his brother’s computer.

  And where was his thanks for that?

  “Get things right with your brother,” his dad’s voice echoed in his memory. “And I don’t mean simply getting him back to work. I mean what’s wrong between you two personally.”

  Jed rose and began pacing the small living room. How was he supposed to fix something he didn’t understand? He didn’t know what was wrong between him and Chris, beyond that they were two entirely different personalities. How was he supposed to fix that? He was who he was, and Chris was who he was. Had their dad given that truth any consideration? Apparently not. Maybe he should tell his dad to go ahead and shut Laffriot down. Maybe he should—

  His train of thought was broken by the ring of his phone. Seeing the call was from his cousin, he answered it, glad for any distraction.

  “Hey, Ben.”

  “Hi, Jed. Have I interrupted anything?”

  “Nothing important.” He walked to the sofa and sat. “What’s up?”

  “Ashley wants to have you out to the farm for dinner on Saturday. Can you make it?”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “Come about three so I can show you around since we didn’t have time for that when you were out last. We’ll plan to eat about six or six thirty.”

  “Okay. Sounds good to me.”

  “Hey, why don’t you bring Holly? Ashley’d like to get to know her since the three of us go to the same church.”

  Jed hesitated. The truth was he’d like to spend more time in Holly’s company. He’d thought about asking her out to dinner, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. She’d been hurt by somebody. A failed relationship that had left her sad, she’d said. He suspected that her sadness ran deeper than she wanted to let on. Probably not a good idea to form any sort of relationship with her. Last thing he wanted was to be the rebound guy. Besides, he didn’t have a great track record when it came to dating. He’d been called a bona fide workaholic by an old girlfriend, and the last woman he’d taken out had compared him to a character in some movie, saying that his idea of a long-term relationship was giving his date time enough to order dessert.

  “It was Ashley’s idea,” Ben added, drawing Jed’s attention to the present. “She’s new enough at Covenant that she’s still making friends.”

  “All right. I’ll ask Holly. I’ll let her know it isn’t a date. Just getting to know more people from the church.”

  “Sure. Whatever you say. And so you know, dinner won’t be anything fancy. Ashley’s all about what’s easiest when it comes to cooking. Both of us would rather be out with the horses than messing around in the kitchen.”

  Jed decided to keep quiet about Holly’s cooking skills. He wouldn’t want Ashley to be intimidated. “Whatever it is, it’ll be fine with me.”

  Ben asked if there was any news of Chris, and Jed told him they’d talked for a minute but that was all. He still didn’t know where his brother was or what his plans were.

  After they ended the call, Jed checked the time as he set down the phone. Seven o’clock. Holly should be done eating her dinner by now. Should he call her or go to her back door? Back door, he decided. It would be better to ask her face-to-face. Especially since he wanted her to know this was dinner with her tenant and a couple of soon-to-be friends. Nothing more.

  He frowned. Would it be so awful if it was a date? Holly was the most appealing woman he’d met in a long while, and right now nobody could call him a workaholic. Would it be so terrible to enjoy time with a beautiful woman? Then again, Jed wasn’t a catch-and-release kind of guy. He was in Boise temporarily, and five hundred miles separated this city from Tacoma. Once he found Chris, life would go back to normal. He’d be putting in long hours again.

  So that was that. Friendship was the only option.

  Decision made, he headed out of his apartment and up to the back door of the main house. He drew a quick breath and knocked. It wasn’t a long wait before Holly opened the door.

  “Hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said.

  “Is your power out again?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Her brows raised slightly as she waited for him to say more.

  “Come in, Jed,” came Trixie’s voice—he recognized it at once—from inside the house. “Don’t just stand there on the steps.”

  A smile touched the corners of Holly’s mouth, then was gone. So fast, he wasn’t sure it had been there. “Yes, please come in.” She turned and walked away, leaving the door open.

  He waited a moment, then followed her inside.

  Trixie stood in the kitchen, leaning a hip against the center island. “It’s great to see you.” She made it sound as if it had been years instead of six days.

  “Thanks. You too. How are the wedding plans?”

  “That’s why I’m here. Holly and I were going over wedding cake ideas and looking at all the bride magazines I could find.”

  Jed took a half step back. “Sounds like I’m intruding after all.”

  “No, you’re not. We’re done. I was about to head home.” Trixie tipped her head slightly to one side.

  Jed had the sudden feeling that he was being measured, studied, put under a microscope. Not a comfortable sensation.

  Trixie turned her gaze on Holly. “Don’t forget what I said earlier.” Then she grabbed a stack of magazines from a table near the door and let herself out.

  Holly released an audible breath. “Our mom says everybody’s left winded in Trixie’s wake. And it’s true.”

  “I believe it.”

  She smiled again. “She’s so happy she’s contagious.”

  “Lucky girl.”

  “Yes.” Her smile faded. “Yes, she is a lucky girl.”

  Her wistful tone caused his chest to tighten. It made him want to bring the smile back. “I came to ask if you’d like to join me for dinner on Saturday at Ben’s farm. Ashley, his fiancée, will be there, and she’s cooking dinner. Ben hoped we could make it a foursome, especially since the three of you attend the same church. And me, too, while I’m in Boise.”

  “I don’t know.” She gave her head a slow shake. “I’ve got so many things to do. I should get caught up on my bookkeeping, and I—”

  “You’d be doing me a favor,” he interrupted. “Seriously. I’ll feel like the odd man out if I’m there with only the two of them. They’re like your sister. Up to their ears in wedding plans.”

  He watched as she considered the invitation. One thing that made him good at his job was his ability to read people. What he saw in Holly’s expression was trepidation, maybe even distrust. It seemed she was going to decline his invitation. But a look of resolve entered her eyes. Her mouth firmed. Then she nodded. “All right. It sounds nice. I’ll go with you. What time?”

  “We’ll
plan to leave here about two twenty.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Monday, July 21, 1969

  After the excitement of the moon landing, the following day seemed uneventful. That morning, Grant drove into Boise for his day job as usual, and after lunch Helen baked a raspberry pie. Knowing her husband well, she warned him not to sneak a slice before dinner.

  Now, as the afternoon waned, the two of them sat in the living room, Andrew with the folded newspaper on his lap, still unread, while Helen knitted something. A fan hummed in the corner of the room where it sat, summer after summer, faithfully moving the air.

  “I think we should have Grant buy us one of those coolers that go in the window.”

  His wife looked up. “Really?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Seems an expense we don’t need. We’ve gotten by with fans right enough all these years.”

  As a young man, Andrew had promised Helen the world. He’d promised her travel to foreign places. He’d planned to give her a large home in the city, complete with a servant or two. But their lives hadn’t turned out that way. While he’d found contentment on the farm—much to his own surprise—he’d feared the same wouldn’t be true for his wife. He’d feared she wouldn’t be content with the life or with him. And for a time, his fears had been justified. She’d lost her way, and he’d nearly lost her forever. But somehow, miraculously, she’d learned to love him again, to love the life they shared.

  I’m blessed.

  He looked down and unfolded the newspaper. Usually he read the paper first thing in the morning, but the headlines had been all about the Eagle landing and the astronauts walking on the moon. Since he’d seen all that for himself the previous night, he’d decided the paper could wait.

  He scanned the articles on the first page, then moved inside. After a few moments he said, “That’s not good.”

  “What, dear?”

  “It says here that consumer prices have risen 6.4 percent since the beginning of the year. The worst since ’51. Probably couldn’t afford that cooler for the window anyway.”