Page 88 of Peppermint Bark

“Oh,” she said, running her hand over her thighs, “I left there two, maybe three years ago. Now I work at the college, in Student Affairs. After raising four boys, the house seems so quiet with only Levi. The chaos of college kids feels right. What about you, Jeremiah?”

I winced. That was the second time Mama had called me that. Should I correct her? Or after all these years, should I keep the peace?

My fingertips gripped the counter as pressure started building in my chest.

“Are you ok?” came a soft rumble over my shoulder, close enough to feel Alex's warmth without touching.

“I’m ok,” I whispered, leaning back into his firm chest to ground myself in reality as he interlaced our fingertips at my side. I tilted my head to whisper, “It’s her perfume.”

His chin brushed my hair in a nod. His free arm came around my shoulder and across my collarbone, wrapping me in his now-familiar scent of pine and peppermint to steady me.

Mama’s eyes lingered with a curious softness. As they shifted to his face, they took on a reverent quality. I wanted to confide,‘I know, right? I feel that way when I look at him too.’ I wanted to have that mother-daughter bond that I’d read about, that I’d caught glimpses of with Helen.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Mama said, holding out her hand warily.

“I’m Alexander,” he unthreaded our fingers to shake her hand and judging from the lusty look on her face, I’m guessing he grinned. “Her boyfriend.”

My head jerked but he squeezed my shoulder. Play along, his touch said.

“I’ve heard all about your pies, even helped her bake some from your recipe."

Mama flushed. “I have leftovers, if you want pumpkin or caramel apple.”

“Oh, we couldn’t —”

“Caramel apple please, ma’am,” Alex’s sweet tooth overrode my protest.

Mama plated the pies and when I sat down, Alex disappeared then re-emerged with his scarf, which he wrapped loosely around my neck to block out her perfume scent before pulling his chair close enough that our knees touched.

I cut into the pie with anticipatory nervousness, fearing that my replica would pale in comparison, then bit into disappointment. The pie was nowhere near the masterpiece from my childhood memories. Alex nudged my leg and mouthed, ‘Yours is better.’

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” Mama said, scrutinizing my face as she settled into the seat that had been Elijah’s, but now the table had only four chairs instead of six. “My bravest kid.”

“I’m not the bravest,” I said. Elijah traveled all the way to Japan.

“Yes, you are. You chased your dream even when it meant you’d be alone,” she smiled softly. “Dad thought you’d crack and come home right away, but you followed your heart, Cariño … or would it be Cariña?”

My throat tightened, and she gave me a moment to regroup by asking Alex, “So how did you two meet?”

“My sister runs the yoga studio where Grace works,” Alex replied proudly.

“Your name is Grace?” A soft sound broke from Mama’s throat, her eyes misting. "But … you’re Jeremiah. You chose that name.”

“No,” Alex corrected gently. “She chose the name Grace.”

Mama looked at him, expression pleading. “Before they were born, each of my boys —” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Each of my kids chose their own name. Their father read Scripture at church, and when they heard their book, they would wiggle and thrash.” She turned to me then, and rested a hand lightly on her stomach. “You chose Jeremiah. I thought that name would protect you.”

“Protect her?” Alex said in confusion. “How could a name protect her?”

Mama looked disappointed, realizing he hadn’t been raised in the church. “The prophet Jeremiah warned the Israelites of an impending invasion, but they didn’t listen. He was imprisoned and mocked for his truth, yet he stood firm. When Jerusalem fell, he wrote to those in exile, advising them to stop looking back at what they lost and start meaningful lives in Babylon, their new homeland.”

She looked at me then, tears overflowing her eyes.

“In his letter to the exiles, he wrote, 'Build houses and plant gardens. take wives and have sons and daughters,'” she recited from what she considered my book. “I didn’t … I couldn’t imagine how it would be possible that you could have sons and daughters, if you were …”

She blinked back tears, then her gaze drifted to Alex. “Then again … through Him, all things are possible.”

Grief swelled in my chest, unsure what to say. Mama gripped my hand, pleading and urgent. “I’ve prayed that the name Jeremiah would give you the strength you needed to live in exile, and now to find out that you gave it up? It’s —”

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