Page 14 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
Normal. That meant waking up no later than seven a.m. She needed to find her own place—stat.
April Hale was smiling at the mother-daughter reunion over a blue pottery mug that smelled enticingly of coffee. Other delicious food smells like bacon floated through the air, making her feel a littlezing of happiness.
“Good morning, April,” she said as her mother released her.
“Hi, Lucy. It’s good to see you in your mother’s kitchen again.” She came over and hugged her as well.
Even though Lucy had seen and talked to her last night, a fresh spurt of happiness filled her as memories flashed through her mind. She remembered eating oatmeal raisin cookies after school on the Hales’ Harvest Gold kitchen table as April bandaged her scraped knees or helped her with homework.
April stepped back. “Your hair is as long and fiery as I remember it. The auburn looks so good with your green eyes. Always has.”
Her compliment was a little surprising. After all, she almost always saw April on her visits home. Was she simply being extra sweet, or subtly suggesting Lucy needed a haircut? Her last one had been in Beirut, and hadn’t that been a trip… She’d gotten as close as she could to the Syrian border without getting into trouble. “Thank you.”
Her mom set a cup of steaming coffee in front of her, and she stared at it carefully. Another problem with her injury was that it threw off her depth perception with the objects closest to her, making it hard for her brain to pinpoint exactly where her hand needed to move to grasp them.
“Is that a hawk outside the window?” she asked, making them both turn their heads.
She put her hand toward where she thought the cup was, missed, and moved it a couple inches until she had a good grip on the mug.
“I don’t see one,” her mother said.
“Me either,” April said, “although there are plenty of them around.”
“This coffee is delicious,” she said, taking a sip, congratulating herself on the misdirection.
“You and your father always did need coffee to function in the morning,” her mom said, pinching her cheek. “Although sleeping this late, you’d think you could do without the jolt. You need a haircut.”
“I was just thinking that,” she responded pleasantly.
“Do I even want to see your toes?” her mom asked, looking down at her feet.
She covered one foot over the other. “Stop. You know there are no nail salons in the places I visit.” Best not mention that hepatitis C was a real risk at most of the salons she could have visited.
“We can get our nails done today,” her mom said, checking her own manicure.
It looked like purple to Lucy, but it could have been blue. There was no way to be sure anymore unless she closed her bad eye, and that was the problem. Relenting to temptation would only make the healing process take longer, darn it all to hell.
“I’ll make you a hair appointment too, Luce.”
It was already starting. “Mom, I can handle my own appointments.”
Her mom yanked on a lock of her hair before turning and loading a plate with bacon and scrambled eggs for her. “I’m only trying to be helpful, honey.”
“I know.” She did. It just annoyed the hell out of her. “Let me do things at my own pace, okay?”
“Fine,” her mom said, sharing a glance with April, who was oddly quiet.
Were they wondering why she was back too? God, she hoped they wouldn’t ask. She hadn’t kept the incident in the Congo to herself only to keep her parents from worrying.Her mother was allergic to what she called ‘sad things.’ Lucy couldn’t count the number of times her mother had pursed her lips and told her not to be a downer. After a while, Lucy had started self-editing everything she told her mom.
Lucy grabbed the fork her mother handed her, and felt for the plate with her free hand. Upon contact, she dug into the eggs, pushing those thoughts aside. “Cheddar cheese and dill eggs. Oh, yum.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had dill. “And apple-smoked bacon…I’m in heaven.”
“Hopefully this proves I’m not an ogre.”
Her excitement dimmed. “Mom, I don’t think you’re an ogre. But I’m a grown woman used to running my own life. You wouldn’t appreciate it if I tried to rearrange yours. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Indeed,” her mother said, her mouth twisting. “Go ahead and eat. April and I will tell you about our project.”
That sounded ominous. If they had a project, Dare Valley had better watch out. When they were young mothers, Ellen and April had organized a breastfeeding fair for women. They’d suggested that women should stop covering themselves in church, restaurants, and local stores. Suffice it to say, the whole town had been scandalized. Her dad might have thrown a blanket over her mom’s boob and begged her to stop. Breastfeeding openly was more widespread now, of course—her mother had been ahead of her time.
