Читать книгу Lone Star Holiday - Jolene Navarro - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Lorrie Ann paused at the wrought-iron gate that led to the terra-cotta-paved courtyard. Wisteria and roses climbed the white stucco walls. The large ranch house rambled off both sides of the patio. Lorrie Ann smiled at the turquoise door.

All the hours and years she’d spent waiting for her mother to come back rushed in and filled her mind.

“Are we waiting for Aunt Maggie?”

The child’s voice pulled her back to the present. She smiled down at the rumpled-looking doll and took the small hand in hers.

“No, just caught up in some memories.” Pulling air through her nose and slowly releasing her breath, she took one step forward. “Let’s go to the kitchen door. I bet she has something we can heat up for lunch.”

Obviously familiar with the home, Celeste headed to the breezeway. The traffic-worn stones gave testimony that family and friends went straight to the back door.

Stepping into the kitchen, Lorrie Ann had the unexpected urge to cry. Spices from all the meals cooked over the years lingered in the air. The clay bean pot and flat cast-iron griddle sat on the old white stove.

“Did you live here when you were a little girl?” Celeste asked as she twirled in the middle of the large open kitchen. “I want tortillas. Do you think she has some papas?”

“Now, that is a word I have not heard in a while.” Lorrie Ann opened the refrigerator door and dug around until she found an old margarine tub with cubed potatoes that had been panfried. “Here we go—papas!”

“And tortillas!” Celeste held a wicker basket of tortillas like a trophy. “But I’m not allowed to touch the stove.”

Lorrie Ann turned on the burner and adjusted the flame.

“After school, my cousin, Yolanda, and I would race in here to fight over the first tortilla.” Maggie’s daughter always argued that since she was younger by four years and it was her mother who made them that she should get the first one.

At the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room, Celeste jumped on a stool and started spinning in circles. “Is Aunt Maggie your real aunt? Did your mom and dad live here, too?”

“Maggie is my mom’s older sister. My mom traveled, so I just stayed here.” The story slipped from her lips naturally as she flipped the tortilla.

“What about your dad?” The child spun the chair in the opposite direction.

“My father?” A good question her mother never answered. “Um...well. He’s gone.”

“He’s dead?”

Lorrie Ann gasped. “Oh, no.” What had she done? “Oh, oh, no. I mean...I don’t know. No, uh...” How did she get out of this?

“You don’t know? I’ll ask Daddy to pray for him. Rachel says he has the most important job in the world.”

Lorrie Ann scooped the potatoes into the warm tortilla. She glanced at the door. “Aunt Maggie should be here any minute.” With plate in hand, she turned away from the stove to face the child.

Celeste’s head popped up over a pyramid made of red cups. Her tongue stuck out between rows of tiny white teeth.

Lorrie Ann froze. “Oh, my...you...um...you need to sit down.”

“I just need to add the last guard to my castle.” She balanced the spoon against the side of the top cup, but as she pulled away, the whole structure collapsed.

Heart in her throat, Lorrie Ann dropped the plate on the counter and rushed to grab Celeste before she fell. “I think it would be better if you didn’t stand on a swivel chair.” With a heavy sigh, she started picking up the cups.

Celeste joined her. “I’m sorry, Miss Lorrie Ann. My sister says I need to learn to sit still.” Her voice sounded subdued.

With a forced smile, she faced the little girl. “No harm done.” She patted her on the head. “It’s okay, rug rat.” They put the last cup back on the counter. “See, everything’s back in place and nothing broken. But I would suggest not standing on moving chairs.” She patted the seat. “Cool tower, by the way.”

“Thanks.” The smile beamed again.

“Here you go. Time to eat.” She scanned her brain for a safe topic. “I think I saw grapes. Do you want some?” She went back to the refrigerator and pulled out a clear bag full of the fruit. While washing them, she glanced out the big picture window, hoping to see her aunt. She sighed at the empty driveway and tore off a small bunch of grapes for Celeste.

“Oh, I can’t eat whole grapes. Daddy says they have to be cut in half so I don’t choke. Hot dogs, too.” She tossed a cubed potato in her mouth. “Why do they call the purple crayon grape when grapes are green? Will you please cut them? Daddy won’t let me use a knife.”

“Sure.” She pulled a small knife from the same drawer they had been in twelve years ago.

“I tell Daddy that only babies eat cut grapes, but he says I’ll always be his baby.” She stuck out her tongue and scrunched her little nose.

“In Los Angeles, cut grapes are gourmet food. I only eat sliced grapes myself.” She pulled a white plastic knife from the drawer and handed it over to Celeste. “Here, you can use a plastic knife.”

Together they sliced the grapes. Lorrie Ann tossed one up to catch in her mouth, but it bounced off her chin, causing the sweetest giggle to come from the other side of the counter. She closed one eye and looked at the little girl with the other. “Hey! Are you laughing at me?”

Celeste sat up straight. Her ponytail swung with the shake of her head while her shoulders trembled as she failed to hold down her laughter.

Both turned at the sound of the screen door opening.

“Aunt Maggie, look! Miss Lorrie Ann taught me how to make gourmet grapes.”

“She has always been very creative.” She smiled at them then headed to the red wall phone. “Give me a minute. I need to start the prayer chain and call your grandpa.”

“He’s at the five hundred pasture today, Aunt Maggie.”

Maggie ran her finger down a list of names. “Well, then, I’ll just leave him a message.” She pushed the buttons on the phone. Bare spots on the twisted ten-foot cord exposed colored cables.

Lorrie Ann smiled. “Do you ever think about getting a cordless?”

“Oh, Yolanda bought me one of those, but I lose it all the time. This one works just fine.” As she listened to the rings on the other end, she glanced around the kitchen. “Where’d Celeste go?”

With a gasp, Lorrie Ann turned to the empty chair the little girl had been sitting on, and her heart froze in her chest. How did she lose one little person? “Celeste?”

She moved through the large archway that led to the family room. “Celeste?” Behind her, she heard muffled giggling. Shooting her aunt a questioning look, she only received a smile and shrug. Aunt Maggie turned to finish her phone call.

So, she was on her own again with the small creature. “Celeste, where are you?” She started scanning the floor and under the counter.

Huddled in a ball under the ten-foot pine table, Celeste giggled again.

Lorrie Ann went to the floor. “May I ask why you’re hiding in the chair legs?”

“I’m a rabbit and this is my home.”

“How about a movie?” Aunt Maggie asked from across the room.

Celeste wiggled her nose. “Okay.” She started hopping out then stopped. “You’ll stay with me?”

The same golden-brown eyes Lorrie Ann had looked into this morning pierced her heart. What would it be like to see your own features in a child? She doubted she’d ever know.

“Sure.”

Less than fifteen minutes into some princess movie, Celeste fell asleep, curled up like a kitten with her head resting on Lorrie Ann’s thigh. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back on the overstuffed leather sofa.

Aunt Maggie walked into the living room. “I figured she’d go to sleep.” One click of the remote and the princess’s song went silent. “Now, Lorrie Ann Ortega, you will tell me what happened that brought you home.”

Lorrie Ann kept her eyes closed and wondered how long she could fake sleep.

“I know you aren’t asleep.”

Apparently less than a minute. With a heavy sigh, she opened her eyes.

“I needed to get away. Once I was on IH 10, coming here just felt right.” She rubbed her arms and studied the sleeping child in her lap. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I have the holidays off, so here I am. After Christmas I’ll go back to L.A. recharged and ready to take on the world again.”

“Is it your fiancé?” Her aunt’s voice turned quiet. “Does it have anything to do with that bruise?”

“Now that I’m here I’m fine.” As long as I don’t become my mother. “You don’t need to worry about Brent. That’s definitely off, no regrets, no maybes about it. We are over.”

“Okay, then.” She reached over and picked up her quilting hoop. “This is your home. I’m glad you’re here.” She placed her purple reading glasses low on her nose and contemplated the stitching in her hands. “We can throw a party.”

Lorrie Ann groaned and ran her hands through her hair. Ugh, she needed a shower. She rested her head on the back of the sofa. “There are people who won’t be happy I’m back.” The one thing she regretted most was bringing shame to Aunt Maggie and Uncle Billy. “You know I didn’t leave on the best of terms.”

Aunt Maggie slipped off her glasses and moved to sit next to Lorrie Ann. Reaching past Celeste, she put her hand on Lorrie Ann’s shoulder. “Mija, I have prayed every day that God brings you back to your family.” A soft smile eased its way across her milk-chocolate skin. She pushed a piece of hair away from Lorrie Ann’s face. “Let the petty high-school drama go.”

At her aunt’s soft touch, Lorrie Ann felt like a little girl again.

“When you’re ready, you can talk to me.” She gently squeezed her shoulder. “But know this...you sitting here is an answer to many, many prayers.”

Uncomfortable with the love in her aunt’s gaze, Lorrie Ann turned her head and closed her eyes to block the feelings of guilt. Instead, she focused on the heartbeat of the sleeping child in her lap.

Maggie stood and placed her quilting hoop back in the basket. “I need to call around to make sure Amy’s parents have meals.”

Lorrie Ann relaxed and closed her eyes again but couldn’t shut off her brain.

Her hand moved to stroke the silky blond hair of the little person in her lap. She smiled, thinking of Celeste’s father.

Her gaze fell across the family pictures on the bookshelf. Smiling faces of her many aunts and uncles along with all the cousins crowded together in mismatched frames. She lingered over the only picture of her with her mother. Blue-and-purple icing smeared on both their faces at her tenth birthday, the last birthday she’d spent with her mom. Happiness filled the face of the little girl she had been, thinking her mother would stay.

She realized returning to the farm, she wanted to find the family she never really knew and the only place she had felt God.

The image of John holding his daughters crossed her mind and melted her heart. What would it have been like to have that kind of father? Her mother had refused to say her father’s name. Lorrie Ann had eventually stopped asking.

She watched her manicured nail make little circles on Celeste’s shirt. John’s life reflected God. Hers? Not so much.

She rested her cheek on her other hand supported by the arm of the sofa. Even though she shouldn’t want to see more of his dream-changing smiles, she found herself listening for an old blue truck’s tires on the gravel driveway.