Page 13 of Wildflowers


  Genevieve turned up the long, steep driveway to the top of the hill where Jessica and Kyle’s home sat perched like a white crown on top of a princely knoll. At the base of the wraparound front porch, in front of a large hydrangea bush exploding with colorful light blue flowers, was the cutest lemonade stand Genevieve had ever seen.

  Anna giggled before getting out of the car. “Do you have any money, Mom? I want to buy a glass of lemonade.”

  “Me, too,” Mallory said. “Look at their hats.”

  All three boys stood as straight as soldiers behind their folding table lemonade stand. Travis wore a tall but crumpled white chef’s hat. His ears appeared to be the only thing holding up the hat.

  “Look at Josiah’s hat,” Mallory said. “He must have brought that with him when they moved here from Hawaii.” The straw hat looked as if it had been woven from palm fronds. Coming out of the side was a long, floppy wire and from the wire hung a small fish also woven from palm fronds that had now turned pale green.

  “What’s the other boy’s name?” Genevieve asked.

  “You mean Jimmy? He’s the one in the fireman’s hat.”

  “Jimmy and Josiah,” Genevieve repeated, trying to remember. If their father thought to call Steven and invite him to go golfing, Genevieve thought she should at least know his children’s names. “Gordon and Teri just have the two boys, right?”

  “And the baby,” Mallory said.

  “Boy or girl?” Genevieve asked.

  “A girl, Mom. You saw her on Sunday. I was holding her after church. Remember Malia? That’s Hawaiian for Mary.”

  “Oh, right. I remember.”

  Anna was already out of the car and on her way to the lemonade stand. Mallory was right behind her. Genevieve pulled the pasta salad out of the backseat and followed the girls to the front of the house where the three eager attendants were describing their lemonade options.

  “This is the regular one made from a can out of the freezer.” Travis’s funny chef’s hat slipped over his eyebrows. “And this one that looks kind of purple is made in the blender with raspberries. It’s the best one, if you like raspberries.”

  “How much is it?” Mallory asked.

  “This one is twenty-five cents a cup,” Travis began.

  “That’s a quarter,” Jimmy added.

  “They know.” Josiah turned his head to scold his twin brother, which caused the fish on the wire attached to his hat to dip and wobble.

  “But this one with the raspberries is thirty-five cents because it cost-id more,” Travis concluded his sales pitch.

  “I’ll have the raspberry one,” Anna said.

  “Me, too,” Mallory said.

  “You can make that three glasses of raspberry,” Genevieve said.

  “They aren’t really glasses.” Travis picked up one of the red, plastic cups. “Cuz my mom said we had to use the plastic ones.”

  “That’s fine,” Genevieve said. “We all like red, plastic cups.”

  “I like the blue ones,” Jimmy said.

  “We don’t have any blue ones,” Josiah corrected, giving him a nudge.

  “We used to have blue ones where we used to live,” Jimmy said.

  Genevieve thought she had never seen a more adorable trio of young entrepreneurs. Even her three girls hadn’t been as precise and industrious with their early business ventures. She found it especially admirable that these three were set up for business in the driveway of their isolated house where the clientele would be safely monitored, albeit limited. Just because they didn’t live on the corner of a busy street didn’t deter them from setting up shop.

  “How many ice cubes would you like?” Travis carefully extracted a cube from a fancy ice bucket with a pair of tongs. The ice cube popped out of his pinch and flew to the ground.

  “That’s okay,” Josiah said quickly. “That happens sometimes. That’s why we have more ice. They just melt on the floor, and it’s okay.”

  Genevieve suppressed her smile.

  “I would like two ice cubes,” Mallory said politely.

  “So would I,” Anna agreed.

  “Two would be fine for me as well,” Genevieve added.

  With great effort, all three hat-wearing businessmen delivered the goods to their thirsty customers. Fortunately, the raspberry lemonade was very good, which made it easier to praise them.

  “Here’s two dollars,” Genevieve said. “Keep the change.”

  “It doesn’t cost-id two dollars,” Travis said. “It only cost-id …”

  “Thirty-five cents,” Josiah said.

  “Thirty-five and thirty-five and thirty-five,” Travis declared.

  “That would be ninety-five cents,” Mallory said.

  “No, it wouldn’t,” Anna corrected her. “It’s one dollar and five cents. But you guys can keep the extra money. It’s a tip.”

  The three boys looked at each other.

  “I don’t know if we’re allowed to have a tip,” Josiah said.

  Anna and Mallory laughed. “I’m sure it’s okay with your moms. A tip means you’re given a little extra for doing a good job.”

  The boys beamed.

  “Thank you!” they said in a trio of echoes.

  “You’re welcome,” Anna said. “Thank you for the delicious lemonade.”

  Genevieve thought about Mallory’s observation at dinner on Sunday that what Glenbrooke needed was an old-fashioned ice cream shop. There certainly was some merit to that. She wasn’t sure how that could be incorporated into the Wildflower Café, but the nostalgia of a lemonade stand and an ice cream parlor was appealing. Especially on a warm, sunny day like today.

  Maybe it should be a walk-up ice cream window that doubles as an espresso window in the winter. We can’t put in a drive-up window, but maybe people would like a walk-up window.

  Genevieve was mulling over her thoughts as she walked up the steps to the wide front porch. The day immediately felt cooler and more fragrant as she stood beside the hanging planters of large, lavender petunias.

  The screen to the front door opened, and Jessica welcomed Genevieve and the girls. “I’m so glad you could come.”

  “I appreciate your letting us invade your afternoon like this.”

  “You’re not invading at all,” Jessica said. “The others are already here for our Wednesday afternoon Bible study. We planned last week to have a salad luncheon today. So this is perfect. I’ve been hoping for a long time that you could join us.”

  Genevieve felt trapped. Had Leah tricked her into coming to the Bible study? Genevieve discounted that just a few weeks ago she had come to this front door on her own, with her Bible under her arm, searching for the support and encouragement that was now being offered to her.

  “I, ah … I may need to leave early. I’m not sure if the girls need to get home soon or not.”

  “Then stay as long as you can. You know you’re always welcome.”

  “Yes,” Genevieve said. “Thank you. I appreciate it, Jessica.”

  “Is that Gena and the girls?” Alissa’s voice called from the back of the house.

  “Are Beth and Ami here?” Mallory asked.

  “Yes,” Jessica said. “They’ll be happy to see the two of you. Ami was a puddle of tears when they arrived a little while ago. I think she was frightened of the boys because of their funny hats.”

  “Ami?” Mallory called out, heading to the back of the house in search of her favorite toddler. “Where’s my Ami girl?”

  “Ree! Ree!” came the cry before the sound of bare feet padding on the wood floor. Ami was followed by Jessica’s four-year-old daughter, Emma, who was herding Ami through the dining room, as if she were a little lamb.

  “Do you want Mallory and me to keep all the kids in the backyard while you have your Bible study?” Anna asked.

  Jessica’s soft face took on a relieved expression. “That would be wonderful. We’ll all be happy to pay you for the time you spend babysitting the children.”

  “That’s
okay. We like your kids. And you have a huge backyard with lots to do. It will be fun.”

  “Anna, you’re a sweetheart,” Jessica said. “But we’ll still pay you. Please make yourselves at home, and let me know if I can get you anything.”

  “I don’t have a serving spoon for the pasta salad,” Genevieve said.

  “No problem. Bring it in the kitchen. I have everything set up.”

  Genevieve followed Jessica into the spacious kitchen where half a dozen women were standing around the counter visiting. Genevieve recognized all the women, but she didn’t know everyone’s name.

  “You know Leah and Alissa and Lauren, of course,” Jessica said. “And Teri and Shelly. Have you met Meredith before? Meri is Shelly’s sister.”

  “We met at the May Day event at camp a year ago.” Meredith held a sleeping baby in her arms. “Only this little guy was in my belly then instead of in my arms.”

  “He’s so sweet,” Genevieve said. “What’s his name?”

  “Grant. Grant Jacob.”

  “Strong name,” Genevieve said.

  “He’s a strong little man already. He’s only nine months old, but these overalls are size 2T.”

  Genevieve glanced at Meredith’s sister, Shelly. Genevieve knew that Shelly and Jonathan loved their full and busy life at Camp Heather Brook, but they had let a few close friends know that they had been trying for some time to get pregnant without success. Genevieve wondered how Shelly felt standing there listening to her younger sister talk about her strong, healthy son. If Shelly was struggling with jealousy, her face showed no evidence of it.

  “How long will you be here?” Alissa asked.

  “Just a few more days. My parents are settling into their new bed and breakfast. Shelly thought we should all be together so our family could have a blessing party for them.”

  “What’s a blessing party?” Alissa asked.

  “Our family got together at the Hidden House last night and ate pizza. Then, because the carpet is all ripped up, we went around the house with permanent markers and wrote blessings on the old flooring. We listed the fruit of the Spirit on each of the steps and wrote verses in the middle of the floor of each of the guest rooms.”

  “That is so creative,” Lauren said. “I’ll have to remember to tell Kenton.”

  Genevieve would have thought Lauren would be appalled at the thought of writing on anything old with permanent markers. Lauren’s antique store at the end of Main Street was filled with old furniture she had gathered from garage sales.

  Lauren explained her thought. “Kenton is eager to pull off the wallpaper in our family room and replace it with wood paneling. He would love the idea of writing blessings on the wall before we put up the paneling.”

  Just then three-year-old Beth, who had been patiently patting Alissa’s arm, said in a clear voice, “Mama.”

  Everyone stopped.

  “Yes, Beth?” Alissa leaned down to give the girl her full attention.

  “Up.” Beth lifted her arms, and Alissa scooped her up.

  Genevieve noticed tears in Alissa’s eyes as Alissa whispered, “That’s the first time she’s called me Mama.”

  All the women gave a collective “oh!” and murmured expressions of happiness at this breakthrough for Alissa and her daughter.

  Genevieve thought of the long talk she and Alissa had in Alissa’s office. She remembered the way Alissa said she had learned to forgive before she could go on and feel as free as she did now. It certainly showed. In all the years Genevieve had known Alissa, she had never seen her this content and settled.

  “Why don’t we have a prayer together,” Jessica suggested softly. “Then everyone please help yourself to the food here on the counter, and we’ll sit at the dining room table. Oh, and for the vegetarians, there are two taco salads. The one in the blue bowl doesn’t have meat.”

  Jessica held out her hands, inviting the women to join her in a circle of prayer.

  For Genevieve, something powerful and precious occurred when she held Anna’s hand and listened to Jessica pray for the women in the group. Jessica went around the circle and prayed for each of them by name as well as their spouses and each of their children. Genevieve hadn’t realized how many people this group represented.

  As Jessica was concluding her prayer for Meredith, the last woman in the circle, the sound of a baby crying in the other room broke the solemnity of their prayer time. Jessica ended with, “And bless baby Malia, who probably wants to eat now, too. Amen.”

  Teri slipped out of the circle. The others began to chat as they reached for plates and helped themselves to the abundance of salads on the counter.

  “Would you like me to make some lunch for the little kids?” Anna asked.

  “All of them ate before you got here,” Jessica said. “Except maybe Molly Sue. Lauren, did Molly eat something yet?”

  “Yes, she’s fine.”

  Teri entered with her baby girl on one hip and a baby boy on the other hip. “Lauren, guess who wasn’t sleeping?”

  “Michael,” Lauren said, “were you keeping Malia awake?” The round-faced little fellow cooed when he saw his mom.

  Genevieve felt overwhelmed being in the midst of this overactive baby factory. She began to reconsider her idea of building a tree house inside the restaurant. If they attracted this many toddlers on an average afternoon, it would take a separate employee just to corral the troops while the moms tried to talk. She thought she might be better off turning the old storage shed into a playhouse and sending all the children out back while the adults ate.

  “Anna,” Genevieve whispered, “are you sure you don’t mind watching all these children this afternoon?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Good for you. You’re a braver woman than I.”

  Genevieve stood back as the others dished up their salads. She glanced at the wall behind her and noticed a small, framed picture next to the refrigerator. It looked like the front of an antique greeting card with gold-lettered, fancy script. Genevieve stepped closer to read the quote.

  A single wildflower, given with love

  Is better than

  A dozen perfect roses

  Given with indifference.

  ANONYMOUS

  The room seemed to grow quiet for Genevieve. It didn’t matter that the children and babies outnumbered the adults or that the dogs had begun to bark in the backyard. She loved how the picture used a single wildflower in such a simple way. Examining the framed picture again, she thought how she might use the image or the poem at the Wildflower Café.

  But then, to her surprise, her thoughts flooded with images of Steven. Unannounced, a clear, powerful realization hit her full force. Not a realization about the café, which usually dominated her thoughts, but a realization about her marriage.

  For years I’ve been striving to present my husband with a dozen perfect roses, haven’t I? I’ve tried to make our life together the best it can be. I feel like everything is up to me, and I work to make things perfect.

  But my heart hasn’t been in any of it. I’m not in love with Steven.

  A fear came over Genevieve. Her weary spirit had been found out once again. She felt as if she were inwardly dashing from her previously safe, dark hiding place to find a new place to hide where she wouldn’t be found out.

  She looked over at the women gathered in this house. If there was ever an opportune time for Genevieve to come out of hiding and step into the light, it would be this afternoon, with these women.

  Her instincts shouted, “Run! Hide! Flee back into the shadows where you know it’s safe!”

  But her spirit was drawn to the light. Almost as if someone were calling her by name.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For the first twenty minutes of the afternoon Bible study, Genevieve didn’t say a word. She ate her salads and listened to the women talk. Their discussion revolved mostly around their children. They exchanged advice and hopped up whenever one of their little ones came in
looking for his or her mom.

  Genevieve knew she could make an excuse and leave at any time, but Anna already had collected the children who wanted to go with her and led them out of the dining room. Genevieve knew the women were appreciative of Anna and Mallory’s watching the children. If Genevieve left, it would cause a noticeable gap in the afternoon plans for the others.

  Keeping her thoughts to herself and trying to push aside her feelings of panic, Genevieve stayed glued to her chair at the end of the dining room table. Jessica gathered up all the empty plates, and Teri helped her to clear the table. The women pulled out their Bibles, and Genevieve noticed that each of them had a notebook and a pen ready. She had only her paper napkin in her lap. Under the table she was tearing it into tiny shreds.

  “I have a few extra Bibles here.” Jessica placed them in the center of the table. Meredith reached for one first, and then Genevieve took the one with the brown leather cover. It appeared to be a well-read Bible with lots of handwritten notes in the margins.

  “We’ve been going through the book of John,” Jessica said. “We’re on the second half of Chapter 11 this week. This is where Lazarus has died, and Mary and Martha cried to Jesus, ‘If only you had been here, this wouldn’t have happened.’ Last week we were talking about all the times we’ve said that to Jesus.”

  Genevieve found the chapter and nodded. She knew all about feeling disappointed when the man in your life doesn’t come when you want him to.

  Jessica went on. “I have one more thought to add to this part of the chapter before we look at the upcoming verses. Do you remember last week when someone commented on how Jesus told the women to roll away the stone, but Mary and Martha argued with the Lord and told him that Lazarus had been dead for four days and stunk?”