The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,1
nothing. Her temple against my cheek was sticky with sweat, but I didn’t care.
“Lookitchoo,” Emmadean said. “My God, you haven’t aged a bit. Doesn’t she look good, Mary?”
“Great,” my sister said, pushing past us and into the kitchen.
Emmadean ignored her, gripping my elbows while she searched my face, for what? Grief? Fear? Relief? My eyes watered at the love and concern I saw in Emmadean’s expression. “I’m all right,” I said, voice thick.
She squeezed my elbows and released. “You will be. Come on, let’s get some food in you. I’ve seen fence posts with more curves than you.”
I chuckled and shook my head. Emmadean had been pushing food on me, and everyone else in Lynchfield, for as long as anyone could remember. She lived to take care of others, and what better way to show love than to feed them with the best cooking in the Hill Country? If there was a recipe for it, Emmadean would glance at it, and proceed to make it her own. For all her prowess in the kitchen, she couldn’t bake to save her life. Baking didn’t lend itself well to improvisation; it required attention to detail and precision, which Emmadean lacked in all areas of her life. It had fallen to me to save our weekly family Sunday after-church meals from Emmadean’s box brownies and slice-and-bake cookies, because going without dessert was not an option. Looking at the spread of food in the kitchen, including cakes, pies, cookies, and kolaches, I knew the church ladies had rallied the troops as soon as news of Ray Noakes’s unfortunate accident had spread.
Mary shoved a red velvet whoopie pie in her mouth when I entered the kitchen. She ate it almost defiantly, as if she wanted me to judge her and find her lacking. I picked out my own and took a bite. “Not bad, but I could do better.”
“Course you could.”
“Did you make these?”
“No. Since you weren’t here, Emmadean and I made all the arrangements for Pop. I’m sure you’ll find something to bitch about, but do us all a favor, and keep it to yourself.”
“Oh, Mary, take the stick out of your ass,” Emmadean said. “Nora couldn’t care less how we plant Ray in the ground, long as we do.”
“Wow.” Mary made a production of sweeping the crumbs off her hands. “I thought it would at least take ten minutes. But, she’s barely walked in the door, and you’re taking her side. I’ve been at Pop’s beck and call for the last fifteen years while Nora’s been off doing God knows what...”
“Servin’ her country,” Emmadean interjected.
“...but does anyone ever appreciate what I do? The sacrifices I’ve made? No. I’m just told to take a stick out of my ass as if I’m the selfish one. Fucking priceless.” My niece and nephew, Madison and Hunter, stormed into the kitchen in a swirl of preteen energy. They immediately threw themselves at me, and almost knocked me down.
“Aunt Nora!”
“Gosh, you two have gotten big!” I said, hugging the little heathens. “Next time I think a firm handshake is all I’ll be able to stand.”
They bombarded me with questions, and I listened and watched Mary smolder with jealousy.
“Did I bring you anything?” I said in mock shock. “Noooo.” I put my hand up to block my face from Mary and mouthed, “Yes. Go check my bag.”
Madison, the oldest, playfully pushed Hunter out of the way so she could be first down the hall.
“When Nora’s done spoiling them, I’ll meet y’all in the car,” Mary said.
The screen door slapped shut behind her. Jeremy sighed. “That didn’t take long.”
“She’ll get over it,” I said. I had zero patience with Mary’s jealousy. I saw the kids every couple of years, at most, though I tried to Skype with them somewhat regularly. Why she couldn’t just let me enjoy being their aunt was beyond me. “I hope Hunter still likes Legos.”
“He does,” Emmadean said. “Those things get lost in our shag carpet. Dormer and I have been stepping on them for years.”
I opened the cabinet door under the sink and tossed my barely eaten whoopie pie into the trash. “When’s the visitation?”
“Six,” Emmadean said. The clock above the door said sixteen thirty-five.
“Why don’t you drive Mary out to Comanche Springs, Jeremy?”
“You want me to go parking with my wife? Now?”
“I’m giving y’all a break from the kids. If she wants to bitch about me, so much the better.”
“Why don’t you take her? Let her bitch at you directly.”