A Good Measure, page 13
“Good Lord!” Ames exclaimed. “I’m glad you didn’t tell us before!” She shook her head. “Well, bless you, young man, and may you have a long, safe career.” She paused, frowning. “Isn’t there a term pilots use for clear skies?”
“I think you must mean CAVU—it stands for ceiling and visibility unlimited.”
“Well, I hope you always have CAVU skies,” she said, releasing the handle of her carry-on to give him a hug.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, his blue eyes sparkling.
Ames looked behind her, realized she was holding up the line, squeezed his hand, and continued up the ramp, towing her luggage.
Uncertain of her whereabouts, she texted Quinn to let her know she’d arrived and then followed a young couple she recognized from the plane toward the exit where she saw her daughter waiting.
“Mom!” Quinn cried, wrapping her arms around her. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
“I can’t believe it, either!” Ames hugged her daughter for a full minute before pulling back to hold her face in her hands. “You look wonderful!”
“You do, too, Ma,” Quinn said softly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I’m so glad, too,” Ames replied.
“How was your flight?”
“It was fine. We had the cutest young pilot—he said it was his first time flying a plane with actual passengers.”
“Wow!” Quinn said in surprise and then frowned. “I’m really glad it went well then.”
Ames saw her daughter’s concern and laughed. “Everyone has to have a first time at everything, right?”
“I guess,” Quinn said, “but with flying, a little experience is always nice.”
“True, but you can only get experience by doing it. Anyway, he did a good job and I wished him well and gave him a hug.”
“Of course you did,” Quinn said affectionately.
As they made their way to Quinn’s car, she said, “I took the weekend off . . . well, for the most part. I do have to go in for a little while tomorrow, but I thought we could drop off your stuff, meet Clem, have a quick bite—because you’re probably starving, and maybe drive down to Monterey for dinner, although there are some nice places nearby too. How does that sound?”
“I am a little hungry—all they gave us on the plane was a bag of pretzels, but where I’d really like to go for dinner is the Quince Café!”
Quinn laughed. “Okay, I’ll have to see if I can get us in!”
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, QUINN PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR OF HER SUNNY APARTMENT, and Clementine hurried over to greet them, swishing between their legs and telling them all about her morning. “What a sweetheart,” Ames said, kneeling down to give her daughter’s tiger cat a proper hello.
Quinn smiled. “She is a sweetheart, and very vocal. When I get home from work . . . or from anywhere, she meows up a storm, telling me everything.” Quinn scooped her into her arms. “You are a mush, aren’t you?”
Clem pressed her nose against Quinn’s, making her laugh. “Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d love some! I didn’t have any this morning because I didn’t want to have to use the bathroom,” she said, “so I haven’t had my caffeine fix yet.”
“Oh, wow! If I don’t have my caffeine by nine o’clock, I get a headache, but I also know all about not wanting to find a bathroom. When my friends and I climbed Half Dome, we weaned ourselves off caffeine for a week beforehand so we wouldn’t need coffee and then we didn’t drink anything that morning because we didn’t know where we’d be able to go when we were hiking. We did end up drinking a lot of water on the way up, but we never needed to go because our bodies kept using all that hydration! Afterward, though, we found out there were some facilities along the way.”
Ames shook her head. “I still can’t believe you hiked Half Dome!”
Quinn nodded as she heated water to make coffee in her Chemex. “It took sixteen hours and a lot of water breaks . . . and a lot of encouraging each other. And then, when we finally reached the cables and looked up at the steep rock face . . . well, it’s more than a little intimidating. There are people coming down while you’re going up, and everyone goes at their own pace—some very slowly while others are in a hurry—but you can’t go all that way, and not reach the summit, so we put on our gloves and held on to those cables with death grips.”
“Well, I’m glad you made it up—and down—in one piece.”
“Me, too, because coming down is a completely different adventure. We were only on the summit for about a half an hour when we started to see lightning in the distance, and then everyone wanted to go down at the same time, but you can only go so fast when there are people in front of you. It was more than a little nerve-racking,” Quinn said, remembering the experience with a mixture of pride, elation, and relief. Even though it had been one of the most challenging and stressful things she’d ever done, she was glad she’d done it. “By the time we got all the way down, our knees were aching.”
“I bet,” Ames said, shaking her head and watching her daughter pour hot water over the coffee filter.
“I picked up some chocolate croissants, too,” Quinn said, motioning to a paper bag on the counter. “I’m gonna nuke ’em so the chocolate melts.”
“I love chocolate croissants,” Ames said, welcoming Clementine onto her lap.
“I know you do.”
Quinn sat across from her, and Ames took a sip of her coffee. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart,” she said, smiling.
“It’s so good to see you, too, Mom,” Quinn said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Now, try one of these croissants—I got them at the bakery down the street and they are the best!”
Ames nodded and then raised her eyebrows. “That reminds me! I brought a loaf of banana bread with walnuts and chocolate chips for you.”
Quinn’s face lit up. “You remembered!”
“Of course, I remembered,” Ames said, taking a bite of her croissant. “I’m your mom.”
24
“GRAM, I’M HERE!” ELLIE CALLED, DROPPING HER BACKPACK ON THE MUDROOM floor, but just as she did, Goodness and Mercy scooted between her legs and chased each other into the kitchen. “G and M are in!”
“That’s okay,” Libby called, coming into the kitchen with an armful of books. “Those two are always sneaking in.” She set the books on the table. “Have you ever read these, El?” she asked, spreading them out. “Your dad and your uncle Gage read them when they were your age, and your dad thought you might like them.”
Ellie looked at the covers. “Hmm . . . My Side of the Mountain,” she murmured thoughtfully. “I don’t think I have . . .” She picked each one up and read the back. “Is it a series?”
“It is. The author, Jean Craighead George, loved to write about nature and animals.”
Ellie frowned. “Did she write the Julie of the Wolves trilogy? Because if she did, I read all of those and loved them.”
“She might’ve . . . I’m not sure. These are the only books I have by her.”
“Julie of the Wolves is about an Eskimo girl who lives in the wild with wolves—they helped her survive—she even learned to speak their language!”
Libby nodded. “That must’ve been pretty amazing.”
“It was. Did you know that wolves mate for life?”
“I did not.”
“They will also die for their mate or another close family member.”
“I had no idea they were so devoted.”
Ellie nodded and studied the backs of the books. “Thanks, Gram. I’ll definitely read these.” She stacked them in a pile. “Maybe I’ll even start tonight.”
“After Hyacinth?”
“Of course,” Ellie said, grinning. “And cribbage.”
The kettle on the stovetop began to sing and Libby’s face brightened. “I have a new kind of tea for you to try.”
“What kind is it?”
“It’s called passion tea. I had it the other night at the Coffee Bean.”
“Wait! You went to the Coffee Bean with the ladies?!”
“I did,” Libby said, pouring hot water over one of the tea bags Callie had given her.
“How was it?”
“It was nice. A lot of fun actually.”
“Are you gonna go again?”
“Maybe,” Libby said, setting the timer for seven minutes.
“What did you talk about?”
“Oh, you know . . . girl stuff,” Libby replied.
Ellie laughed. “Did you drink wine? I hear they all drink wine in that group.”
“What do you think?” Libby asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I think you had tea, because I have never seen you drink wine.”
“Correct. And that’s why I have this new tea for you to try,” she said, turning off the timer. She poured the tea into two cups. “Lemon?”
“Yes, please.”
Libby squeezed a sliver of lemon into both cups and carried them to the table. “Have you been to the Coffee Bean?”
Ellie nodded. “Mom gets coffee there sometimes, but I’ve never eaten there.”
“Well, we will have to go sometime.”
“Maybe we could go after church tomorrow,” Ellie suggested hopefully.
“Oh, hon, I don’t think they’re open on Sunday.”
“Oh, right. I forgot,” Ellie said, a shadow of disappointment crossing her face.
“But we’ll go soon—we’ll have a girls’ lunch.”
Ellie blew softly on the surface of her tea and then, out of the corner of her eye, saw something small streak past the window. “I think I just saw a hummer!” she exclaimed, getting up to look. Libby joined her at the window and they watched in the fading sunlight as two male rubythroats hovered near the feeder and then zoomed away. A moment later, a female landed and had just begun to take a long sip when one of the males returned and began flying up and down like a big pendulum. “What in the world is he doing?!” Ellie whispered.
“He’s showing off, trying to impress her.”
Just then, the second male dove into its path midswing, and they raced off together. “They’re both trying to get her attention!”
Finally, the female zoomed away, too, and Libby sat back down. “Your tea is getting cold.”
Ellie joined her and took a tentative sip. “Wow, this is good!”
“I know,” Libby said smiling at her granddaughter’s enthusiasm for the new flavor.
Ellie’s face suddenly lit up with a smile. “You’ll never guess what kind of bird I saw this morning.”
“What kind?”
“A whip-poor-will! I was walking along that little piney path behind our house, and she was just sitting in the leaves under a juniper tree. I wouldn’t’ve even noticed her, except that, when she saw me, she got up and started dragging one of her wings along the ground, pretending to be injured, and then I saw she had two eggs.”
“Lucky you! I can’t remember the last time I saw a whip-poor-will.”
Ellie nodded. “They lay their eggs on the ground, just like a woodcock—which I think is kind of silly. It’s a wonder they’re not extinct! Anyone could come along and accidentally step on the eggs . . . or purposely eat them.”
“Well, that’s how God made them,” Libby said, “and somehow they manage, just like all his creatures.”
“Including us,” Ellie said, smiling. “God made us all different, too, and we manage somehow and do the best we can.”
“So true,” Libby said, her granddaughter’s words plucking her heartstrings and making her think of Chase, who always strived to do his best, no matter what he faced—from taking under his wing every living thing that needed help to probably one of the hardest things, telling his father he was gay. That had not been an easy conversation, but Chase had countered Jack’s biblical argument with his own interpretations of the Bible, and he’d gently, but firmly convinced his father that being gay wasn’t a choice. Now, he was getting married, and she wondered what Jack would think if he were alive. She knew her husband had loved their youngest son with all his heart, but with all that love came worry, and neither she nor he would ever want Chase to be hurt or ridiculed. Life was hard enough . . . and that was the hardest part . . .
“I love listening to the whip-poor-wills when I’m lying in bed at night,” Ellie said, interrupting her thoughts. “It’s such a cheerful summer sound.”
“It is,” Libby agreed.
“Did you know that whip-poor-wills purposely time the laying of their eggs so they hatch ten days before a full moon so that, when they do hatch, the moon will give them enough light to forage for bugs all night long so they can feed their babies?”
Libby shook her head. “That’s incredible. How do they know?”
“God must tell ’em,” Ellie said matter-of-factly.
“He must indeed,” Libby replied.
Just then, they heard a clump on the porch, and a moment later, Matt pushed open the door. “You two all set for the night?”
“We are,” Libby replied. “We’re having grilled cheese and tomato soup for supper, watching our favorite show, playing a game or two, reading, and going to bed.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Matt said, smiling. “Do I get a hug?” he asked, eyeing his daughter.
“Yup,” Ellie said, running over and jumping into his arms.
“Be good.”
“I’m always good!”
He laughed. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”
“Not if I see you first!” she said, grinning as he set her back down.
“Thanks, Mom,” Matt said.
“Oh, hon, you don’t need to thank me. It’s my pleasure to have such good company every Saturday night.” She looked over at Ellie. “I don’t know what I’d do without her . . . without all of you keeping me going.”
He half smiled, knowing how much his mom missed his dad . . . and her own dad. “Okay, well, Eli, Grayson, and I will be back in the morning.” He eyed Ellie. “Be ready for church.”
“I will,” she promised.
“Love you both,” he said. “G’night!”
“Love you, too,” Libby replied, and then added, “Maybe next Saturday, you can leave Jack here, too, and you and your lovely wife can go on a date.”
“A date?” Matt said, laughing as the screen door closed behind him. “What’s that?”
Libby smiled as she watched him walk to his truck. “A date is something you need to make time for,” she murmured, “because all too soon, the time is gone.” As she said this, she felt Ellie’s hand slip into hers.
“I’ll be your date anytime, Gran,” she said softly.
Libby looked down. “Thank goodness I have you, hon!” she said, giving her granddaughter a hug.
“You have all of us, Gran.”
“I know I do—I’m truly blessed.”
25
PAYTON HUNG UP THE PHONE AND LEANED AGAINST THE COUNTER, JULIE’S WORDS echoing in her head: He wants you to come in, Payton. Can you be here at 3:30 this afternoon? She’d answered that she could, but before she could ask why, Dr. Hamlin’s receptionist had hung up.
But Payton wasn’t born yesterday. She knew that when test results showed there was nothing wrong—nothing to worry about, you simply got a message: Everything looks fine. We’ll see you in a year. Even after all the mammograms she’d had in her life, she’d always just gotten a form letter stating that everything was normal and to remember to schedule one for the following year, but when you got a call and were asked to come in, well, she’d seen enough movies to know that wasn’t a good sign. For some reason, doctors always want you to come in so they can give you bad news in person. Why was that? Why couldn’t they just tell you over the phone? Did they not want you to be alone when they told you your life was threatened? Were they afraid you might jump out a window or have a nervous breakdown? Didn’t they know that just by asking you to come in, you’d know that an ominous cloud was forming over your world? Didn’t they think you knew that being summoned to the doctor’s office was akin to being escorted to the gallows?
“Dang it,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. She looked down and realized Ned—who’d been coming to the shop with them all week—was gazing at her with worried eyes. “Oh, Ned,” she said, kneeling down and burying her face in his fur, “can you believe this is happening?” Ned wagged his tail consolably and she pulled back and looked into his sweet brown eyes. “We’ll get through it,” she said resolutely, trying to ease her own worry as much as his. “We just have to put it in God’s hands and keep the faith.” Ned thumped his tail in agreement and then, satisfied that she was going to be okay, moseyed back to his bed.
“Ma, we need you out here,” Cash called, poking his head into the kitchen.
Payton hurried out to the front of the shop and realized there was a line snaking out the front door. “What the heck?” she said. “Did someone put a sign out that says Free Coffee?”
Cash shook his head. “I don’t know what happened. Rylee came in and said there’s a bus parked up the street.” Payton nodded and started to help Jessie fill orders while Cash continued to man the register, but despite the long wait, the steady stream of customers seemed unhurried, and kept themselves occupied by chatting and browsing the Tennessee-themed T-shirts and coffee mugs Payton also sold in the shop. Finally, after a full half hour of serving customers, the last two—attractive well-dressed women in their early seventies, set their purchases on the counter and ordered two medium hot lattes with whole milk and chocolate shavings. “Where are you from?” Payton asked as she cranked the little metal chocolate shaver over the foamy surface of their lattes.
“We’ah from Massachusetts—Nantucket,” the first woman answered in a decidedly Boston accent, “and we’ah taking a bus tour of the East Coast. We’ve been to DC, Williamsburg, and tonight we’re gonna stay in Pigeon Hole. On the way home, we’re going to Gettysburg.”
“It’s Pigeon Forge,” the second woman—whose face reminded Payton of Ames—corrected, nudging her. “We’re going to Dollywood tomorrow,” she added cheerily, “but this afternoon, we’re goin’ to the Tennessee Tennyson’s Dairy Bar.” She smiled. “I can’t wait to try their ice cream. My grandkids vacationed down here last year, and my nineteen-year-old grandson is still talking about the Tennyson family’s famous ice cream.”
