Scrapping Plans Page 2

  “Meg.” Tandy’s low voice hummed a warning. “This isn’t all in Kendra’s head. I’ll admit, Joy hasn’t done anything that anyone who doesn’t know her would think is odd. But we know her. You best of all. Does it sound like everything’s all right?”

  Meg chewed on her lip. Joy hadn’t returned her last phone call and it had been … an entire week. Oh no. Here she was running around like four firemen with a ten-alarm blaze and no water hose just keeping up with her kids, and Joy was over at her house with a monster problem.

  And Kendra had been the one to notice.

  She dropped her arms. I’ve got to get my house on a better schedule. Spend more time with the sisters. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Kendra’s eyebrows rose. “Okay you’ll help us figure out what’s going on?”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to Joy. I can’t believe I missed this.” Meg rubbed her forehead. “Between the kids and these stupid headaches—”

  “You’re still getting the headaches?” Tandy turned in her seat, her forehead wrinkling. “I thought they went away.”

  “They did. They had.” Meg saw Clay approaching with food and smiled. “I’m fine. I probably just need to eat.”

  “And I’ll do my best to help with that.” Clay slid a bowl of chili in front of Meg and winked at Tandy. “You ladies get Joy all figured out?”

  “Not yet, but Meg’s going to work on it.” Kendra swiped a fry through some ketchup and chomped down.

  Clay shook his head. “Careful what you let these two rope you into, Meg.”

  “Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side.” Tandy flicked a straw wrapper his direction.

  “Which is why I didn’t tell her to get out of here before she got in too deep.” Clay winked and walked back to the kitchen, whistling all the way.

  Meg dipped her spoon into the steaming bowl. “That husband of yours has a streak of wisdom.”

  “Yeah, combine it with his streak of wit and you’ve got one smart-aleck comedian who occasionally gets it right.”

  “Somebody should warn Robin Williams.”

  “Oh, I think he’s safe.” Kendra ducked as Tandy threw the rest of the straw paper her way.

  “You know, we need to address this tendency of yours to throw things at people.”

  Tandy rolled her eyes and Meg swallowed her chili. It did nothing to dispel the iceberg of worry in her throat.

  Three

  Before I incur Joy’s wrath, do we have any idea what could be wrong?”

  Kendra shrugged. “I’ve thought and thought. All I can come up with is husband troubles.”

  “Or baby troubles. They’ve been trying to get pregnant.” Tandy sipped her drink.

  “Or both.” Meg thought for a second and nodded. “I’m betting on both. Joy can’t get pregnant, which means she’d find a doctor who could help. And that would tick off Scott because he can’t stand to be incapable of something.”

  “What is it with men and their inability to ask for help?” Kendra huffed.

  Meg scooped more chili. She held it aloft and watched the steam. “I think it’s wired into their genetic makeup.”

  “Then Scott better get his wires fixed, or he’s going to have three ticked-off sisters to deal with.”

  “Remind me again why it’s our business whether or not Scott wants to see a doctor?” Meg popped her spoon in her mouth.

  “Because, nutcase,” Tandy’s voice sounded like a schoolmarm patiently instructing a six-year-old, “his not seeing the doctor is making Joy crazy.”

  “And when Joy’s crazy …”

  “We’re all crazy. I get it, I get it.”

  Kendra nodded. “You know, if the whole world would just do as we say, things would run a lot more smooth.”

  “Speaking of doing what we say, have either of you talked to Daddy lately?” Meg said.

  “Why would we talk to Daddy? He’s not doing anything but preaching and taking Zelda dancing every Friday.”

  “I know.” Meg tilted her chin down and raised her eyebrows. “Think about it.”

  Tandy looked across the table at Kendra while all around them conversations buzzed along. She shook her head. “I give.”

  “Me too. What’s there to talk to Daddy about?”

  “You don’t think it’s odd how much time he’s spending with Zelda these days?”

  “What time? He goes dancing with her on Fridays.” Kendra shrugged.

  “And grocery shopping with her on Mondays.”

  “What?”

  Meg smiled. “Yep. Every Monday, like clockwork, you can find him and her over at Darnell’s. Like clockwork.”

  “No big deal. So they’re sharing grocery shopping.” Tandy held up her empty glass and nodded when she caught Clay’s eye. “I don’t think I’d put that in the ‘to be concerned about’ column. Who likes to shop alone?”

  “Daddy, until he met Zelda.” Meg held up her hands to stop their protests. “I’m just saying, they’re sharing a lot. Grocery shopping. Dancing. Church.”

  “Okay, now stop.” Kendra pushed her plate aside. “She goes to our church. Daddy’s the preacher. I don’t think that counts as a date.”

  “Are you so deep into wedding plans that you haven’t noticed where Zelda now sits?” Meg watched both sisters think through the past Sunday. Understanding dawned on Kendra’s face first.

  “In the second pew on the left.” Her hushed voice barely carried across the table. “Right by the aisle.”

  “Bingo.” Meg went back to her chili.

  “Are you sure?” Tandy squinted as if trying to see into the past. “I don’t remember seeing her there.”

  “You have got to be the least observant person on the planet.”

  “Says the sister who didn’t even notice Joy’s messed up right now.”

  Meg winced. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m off my game.”

  “How long has she been sitting there?”

  “Joy?” Meg looked around the diner, trying to spot her baby sister.

  “No, nutcase. Zelda.”

  “Oh, this last Sunday was her fourth Sunday there.”

  “What?” Tandy sat up straight. “Tell me you’re kidding. How did I not notice this?”

  “Got me. All the blue hairs noticed it. They’ve been asking Daddy if he’s got a question up his sleeve.”

  “A question? What kind of question?”

  “The question. As in, ‘pop the question.’”

  Tandy nearly fell out of the booth. “Absolutely not. No way. Daddy is not asking Zelda to marry him. That’s the most absurd thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, sister, dear. It’s the blue hairs saying it, not me. And you can’t really blame them, since Zelda is now sitting in Momma’s spot every Sunday.”

  “Well, the blue hairs can go find themselves another rumor to float, because this one doesn’t hold water. Nobody in their right mind would believe Daddy could possibly think of asking another woman to marry him. Not after what he and Momma shared.”

  “Amen to that, sister.” Kendra crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t tell me you’re okay with this, Meg.”

  Meg grimaced. “Of course not. Why do you think I brought it up with you two? Daddy listens to y’all. So get to talking.”

  “What do you propose we say? ‘Hey, Daddy, Meg heard some of the old women at church talking and, seeing as how everybody thinks you’re about to propose to Zelda, we thought we should let you know we’re not okay with it.’ Does that work?” Tandy shook her head.

  “Works for me.”

  “Meg, stop it. Much as it pains me to admit it, Tandy’s got a point. This isn’t something we can be proactive about.”

  “Aren’t you the one who was just telling me to march into Joy’s house and ask her what’s going on?”

  “That’s different.” Kendra looked out across the patrons still merrily chomping away on their burgers. “We know something’s wrong there. With Dad
dy, it’s just the blue hairs talking.”

  “Yeah, it could be nothing.” Tandy’s voice held the hope of Christmas morning.

  Meg shook her head. “Happy with your heads in the sand there, ladies?”

  “You better believe it.”

  But Kendra’s voice held a note of worry.

  Four

  The candlelight flickers. Its warm light doesn’t feel right for this room. Candlelight is for conversation, for whispered promises, for easy laughter. Those things aren’t a part of our dinners. Not anymore.

  Scott looks exhausted. Lines crease his forehead, and my heart hurts with the knowledge that my inability has caused such a physical change in my husband.

  We must go see a doctor. I know a doctor could help us figure out why we cannot seem to conceive. Yet broaching the subject will only cause that line to deepen. Scott does not like asking for help.

  In high school I thought that was heroic.

  Now I think it is idiotic and selfish.

  He may not need help, but I certainly do. And what man cannot ask for help on behalf of his wife? Why can’t he see that his stubbornness only makes this situation worse?

  He likes the duck I’ve made. I know he does, even though he doesn’t tell me. He rarely says anything positive to me anymore.

  “How was work today?”

  His eyes stay low, looking at the dish rather than me. “Fine.”

  “Did you manage to close that sale over on Ralston Road?”

  He nods.

  I wait. I’m not certain why. I know he will not contribute to this conversation unless I force him to do so. A part of me hopes, though, that today he will decide to be the Scott I married. The happy man with a positive outlook on life.

  The man I forced away with my barren womb.

  The notes of a toccata fall from speakers hidden in the walls. They should create an atmosphere of frivolity, but even music has limits. Music is too honest to ignore reality or overwhelm it.

  I push orange glaze around my plate, watching it swirl against the white bone china. The candlelight dances on the plate’s platinum rim, and, for a moment, I am lost in the simple beauty of that dance.

  Scott clears his throat, and reality blots out beauty.

  “Joy, I think it’s time we accept that perhaps we aren’t meant to be parents.”

  It’s a conversation we have had too many times these past weeks.

  “Scott, we’re nowhere near that yet. We haven’t even been to see a doctor to find out what might be blocking us from conceiving.”

  “And we’re not going to see a doctor, Joy. You know my heart on that. Must you continue on a subject we’ve closed repeatedly?”

  “It’s closed only to you.”

  “Since I’m half of this marriage, then I should have a say in how we handle this situation.”

  “More of a say than me?”

  “Than I.”

  “Do not correct my grammar, Scott Lasky. You are not the end-all, be-all of marriage. You do not have all the answers. And, right now, you do not get to tell me I cannot go visit a doctor and find out if the problem is me.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, but this reckless feeling of finally doing something about our situation instead of treading water feels right. I stand up, needing to end the conversation before Scott talks me out of it. “I’ll call Dr. Goodman in the morning for an appointment. Good night, Scott.”

  My ears feel closed, like I’ve stepped off the edge and plunged into the deep recesses of a lake. I know my feet are carrying me away from more than just a cold dinner.

  I don’t think I care.

  * * *

  “COME ON, KENDRA! Get in here before my rear end gets frostbite!” Tandy held open the front door of the house that had been home since her adoption nearly three decades ago.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Kendra’s mittens prevented her from getting a good grip on the stair rail and her feet slid on the stairs.

  “Watch out!” Tandy jumped out the door, and Kendra caught her extended hand just in time.

  “Whew. That was close.”

  “We’ll just call you Grace from now on.” Tandy pulled Kendra through the door and shut out the cold winter air.

  The sisters walked through the house and into the kitchen. Tandy picked up a red-checkered towel and opened the oven. The door’s old hinges creaked as she knelt down to check out the batch of double-chocolate-chip cookies inside. “I think these are about done. It’s hard to tell since they’re already brown.”

  “Are the chips melted on top?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Then pull those babies out. We’ve got scrapping and planning to do.”

  Tandy retrieved the cookie tray and set it on a cooling rack. She turned to Kendra and tossed the towel back on the counter. “Shouldn’t we call this what it is? We’re not planning. We’re conniving.”

  Kendra shrugged off her coat and hung it on the back of a nearby Windsor chair. “That sounds too evil. We’re not doing anything bad here, are we? We’re just making sure Daddy doesn’t do something stupid.”

  “I don’t know, Ken. Part of me thinks his dating life should be his business.”

  “Forgetting the fact that ‘dating life’ and ‘Daddy’ in the same sentence still gives me the creeps, we need to focus on the greater good here.”

  “You’re right.” Tandy heaved a sigh. “I wish Momma were here.”

  “Me too.”

  Silence fell between them, and Tandy’s thoughts filled with memories. Momma’s sure presence, her unwavering love of the whole Sinclair family. Momma always had the right word to say or hug to give when life threw a curve-ball. She hadn’t been perfect, but she’d sure been the best momma Tandy could imagine. Why couldn’t Momma be the one pulling cookies from the oven now, just like she’d done for years and years?

  Because cancer is no determiner of people.

  Tandy cleared her throat and opened the cabinet to the right of the old porcelain sink. “Grab the milk, Ken. We’ve got to get this situation under control.”

  Kendra moved toward the refrigerator, her lavender boots squeaking on the linoleum floor. “So are we going to talk to Daddy? I should warn you, I haven’t come up with anything better than that little speech you gave Meg at the diner.”

  “Me either.” Tandy held out the glasses while Kendra poured. “But maybe there’s a way to put the brakes on this without talking to Daddy or Zelda.”

  Kendra put the cap back on the milk jug and placed it back in the refrigerator. “Okay, sounds good. How?”

  Tandy chomped down on a cookie and chewed. “I haven’t figured that part out yet. That’s what you’re here for.”

  “Oh, good to know your expectations aren’t too high.” Kendra picked up the plate of cookies and turned to leave the kitchen. “Before we get too deep into this, we’re sure we don’t want them getting married, right?”

  “Kendra Sinclair! What do you mean?” Tandy snatched up their milk glasses and followed Kendra up the stairs toward Momma’s scrapping studio. “You want Daddy bringing another woman in here, letting her put her clothes in Momma’s drawers, her makeup in Momma’s bathroom? Spraying her perfume so all traces of Momma’s smell are gone? Washing her clothes in Momma’s washing machine? Pushing her mop across Momma’s kitchen floor?”

  “Ugh. I hadn’t thought through that part of it.”

  “Well, think it through then. Marriage is huge. She’d be to Daddy what Momma was. And then she’d try to be to us what Momma was, and I don’t think I’m a good enough actress to put up with that the rest of my life.”

  They made it to the top of the second flight of stairs and crossed the worn hardwood planks to a giant square table. Kendra pulled out a stool and plopped down, cookie in hand. “Okay, genius. I’m all in. How do we stop this? Is there anything in Zelda’s past that would make Daddy break up with her?”

  “I don’t think so. I tried that angle back when I first came home. Clay back
ed her up, remember, because he knew her as a marine wife back in his enlisted days. Her personal life isn’t going to quash Daddy’s feelings. Besides, they’ve probably talked through their pasts by now if Meg’s right about the amount of time they’ve been spending together.”

  “True.” Kendra nodded. “What about letting Zelda know we don’t want her around?”

  “Do you think Zelda would care?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Ken, if she cared, she’d have left Daddy long ago. None of us has been exactly silent on our feelings about her being in Daddy’s life.”

  “No, but we haven’t been overly vocal either. We’ve been mannered and kind and put up with her.”

  “Yeah. See where that got us?”

  “Exactly.” Kendra brushed the crumbs off her hands, her diamond engagement ring glinting in the light, and walked over to the shelf holding the layouts she was currently working on. “We’ve been nice, and she’s taken that for approval. So we stop being nice. She’ll get the hint and, at the very least, cut back on all the time she’s spending with Daddy. Daddy’s not dumb. He’ll get the message that she’s losing interest, and the whole thing will run its course in a few weeks.”

  Tandy stared as Kendra began setting out papers and embellishments as if she hadn’t a care in the world. The clock ticked while she waited for Kendra to laugh.

  “You’re serious,” Tandy finally said.

  Kendra looked up. “Yeah. It’s a good plan, don’t you think?”

  “No! It’s not a plan at all. ‘Stop being nice’? That’s your grand plan?” Tandy stomped over to the same shelf and jerked her materials off so hard some of them fell to the floor. She knelt and began picking them up. “Kendra, come on. That’s not going to work. Zelda’s just going to tell Daddy that we aren’t being nice, and then Daddy will talk to us in that voice—you know, the one that guilts us into being angels again—and then the whole thing will just bring them closer together. They will have parented us together.”

  “How can we be parented when we’re in our twenties and thirties already?”

  Tandy finished retrieving her embellishments and dumped the whole mess across the table from Kendra’s spot. Narrowing her eyes, she looked at Kendra. “You don’t want to stop this, do you?”