A New Attitude. Charlotte Hughes
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crossed her arms. “Don’t you raise your voice to me, Samuel Brewer. I’m still your mother, whether you like it or not. I’m just thankful your father isn’t here to see how you treat me.”
“Mom, please move.”
“You refuse to let me cook in my own kitchen, despite the fact you haven’t the slightest notion how to go about it. It’s a wonder we haven’t both died of ptomaine poisoning. You won’t even allow me to take a bath by myself. Well, I’m tired of being treated like I don’t have the good sense God gave me.”
Sam closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. The woman was driving him crazy. He opened his eyes and forced a smile to his face. “Look, Mom, we’re both tired. Why don’t you go into the living room and watch TV? I’ll have this disposal fixed in no time.”
She shook her head. “We should call a plumber. Someone who knows what he’s doing. You’ll only end up making it worse.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered as she left the room.
Sam grabbed a broom and stuck the handle into the disposal, turning it counterclockwise. While he worked, he listened to Jeopardy in the next room. He liked the show, and the answers, at least most of them, came easily to him. He figured that wasn’t bad for a man who’d waited until his mid-twenties to get his GED. But he’d had a hankering for knowledge as long as he could remember, and despite staying in trouble most of his high-school years, his grades had been high. He supposed it was because he’d always enjoyed reading.
Construction work had been grueling, leaving a man—at least him—too tired to sit in bars and try to pick up women, as his buddies had. He got to where he preferred going home to a good book. He’d read most of the classics because he thought it was important. He’d studied history and politics and economics. Since he hadn’t the slightest idea what a portfolio was, he’d read everything he could about investments. Sam didn’t believe in luck. He believed a person had to earn their way in this world by using their brain. After twenty years, he could retire right now and never worry about a dime, but he enjoyed what he did. He was not afraid of hard work.
Sam pressed the reset button and the disposal ground to life. Smiling, he called out to his mother in the next room. “Told you I could fix it.” There was no response. No doubt she was still angry that he’d raised his voice to her.
Sam began cleaning the kitchen. Thankfully, his mood had improved by the time he finished. He knew he owed his mother an apology, so he walked into the living room with one on his lips, but paused in surprise when he didn’t find her in her recliner as he’d expected. It wasn’t until he switched off the TV set that he heard the sound of running water. Muttering an oath under his breath, he hurried to the bathroom door and tried the knob.
It was locked.
CHAPTER THREE
WHENEVER SHE WAS ANXIOUS, Marilee baked. That explained the two lemon pound cakes, the chocolate torte and the loaf of banana bread cooling on the kitchen counter. She knew it had something to do with being a minister’s wife for sixteen years. One simply did not visit the sick or bereaved without a cake in tow. And then there were the numerous bake sales and bazaars held every year to raise money for choir robes or the new van to accommodate seniors and the handicapped. Seemed cakes were the veritable frameworks of a thriving church.
Sixteen years of baking cakes.
Sixteen years living with Grady.
You got to know a man pretty well after spending that much time with him. She knew what Grady looked like when he opened his eyes in the morning, and she knew which side of the bed he preferred sleeping on. She knew he liked wearing navy blue because he thought it set off his blond hair. She knew he’d wrestled with the idea of becoming a minister, when what he’d really wanted to do was go into broadcasting. He’d dreamed of having his own radio or TV talk show. He was a born entertainer, he’d told her back in high school. Marilee had to admit he had stage presence—he’d even been selected for the leading role in every school play. But his parents had balked at the idea of him going into broadcasting. After all, he’d grown up in a family of ministers, and he was expected to carry on the tradition.
Grady had played the dutiful son and enrolled in seminary school, then convinced Marilee to elope with him. It had caused quite a stink with his family; even though they approved of Marilee, they thought the couple far too young to marry, and wanted Grady to complete his education first. In the beginning, Marilee wondered if he’d asked her to marry him just to get back at his parents for forcing him into the ministry, but Grady had seemed so much in love with her that she’d pushed the thought aside. After a while, Grady no longer complained about being in the ministry, and Marilee assumed he was as happy as she.
It was only recently that he’d begun to second-guess his vocation. Had he kept it to himself all these years? Had he merely pretended to love her? There were so many unanswered questions. Would she ever know the truth?
That was the past, she reminded herself. As difficult as it was, she had to concentrate on rebuilding her life. Part of that meant Josh. His place was with her. It would be so much easier to hate Grady, but for the life of her she couldn’t. Sure, she hated what he’d done to their family, and she was terrified at the prospect of facing the world alone. Well, she wasn’t entirely alone. There was Winnie to contend with. The girl was presently sprawled on the sofa in the living room watching Jeopardy. She called out her answers, then yelped each time she got them right, causing Marilee to start.
Her nerves were shot. She felt as if she was about to jump out of her skin. Perhaps if she tried to take it one day at a time—one hour at a time—instead of looking toward the future, which seemed pretty bleak at the moment, she would manage.
Marilee stared at the chocolate torte cake. She could not keep it in the house or she’d end up eating it. Like that time three years ago, when she thought she was pregnant and went on a chocolate binge. Even then she’d known things weren’t right between her and Grady, but she’d ignored the signs. Anyway, the church kept her so busy she didn’t have time to think about it. There was always something to do, costumes to sew for the Easter pageant or Christmas play, a wedding rehearsal, or a funeral to attend. In the midst of it all, Sunday-school teachers became ill, volunteers for vacation Bible school backed out at the last minute or extra hands were needed to see that the shut-ins received a hot meal each day. It didn’t matter that her husband’s blood pressure had sky-rocketed, that he was unhappy with his calling or that her son was rebelling. Marilee was expected to pick up the pieces when things fell apart at Chickpea Baptist.
In the meantime, her life had fallen apart.
Marilee heard movement and glanced up. Winnie stood in the doorway, shaking her head sadly. “Look at the mess in this kitchen. How many cakes are you planning on baking tonight?”
“I’m going to bake until I run out of ingredients.” That wasn’t likely. She had gone to the grocery store once Clara and Ruby left and had enough baking items on hand to start her own bakery.
Winnie continued to stare at her. “You’re having a nervous breakdown, aren’t you?”
Marilee sighed. “No, I’m not having a breakdown. I just prefer staying busy when I have things on my mind. Would you like a slice of pound cake?”
“No. I figure I’ve had enough junk food today, and I really need to start eating healthy. You know, for the baby. I hope you don’t expect me to clean up this kitchen, because I need to soak in a hot tub. My back is killing me.”
“I don’t expect you to clean up after me,” Marilee said a little too sharply. She softened her tone. “By the way, do you know your baby’s due date yet?”
“Christmas.”
Marilee smiled. “No kidding?”
“I wish she would come during my two-week break so I don’t have to miss as much school. I’ve had perfect attendance for three years straight.”