is.”
She left them chuckling at her relief and reclaimed her place on the couch. They all came in together, plates heaped with side dishes and desserts. Savannah was supposed to have supplied the main dish. “Sorry again, girls.”
“No worries.” Mary sat on the opposite end of the couch and set her drink on the end table. “More room for Colleen’s cheesecake.”
“So what’s your diagnosis, Van?” asked Andi.
“I don’t know. Just the flu, I guess.”
“Weird time of year for the flu.”
She shrugged. “Leave it to me to pick it up on the off-season.”
“When was the last time you were sick? I mean, seriously, in the twenty years I’ve known you I think I’ve only seen you sick, like, twice.”
“I had a cold right before my second tour with Women of the Word.”
“I remember that!” Colleen snapped her fingers. “You were worried you wouldn’t be well in time.”
“But you were over that in, like, three days. I remember calling to see if I could bring dinner for Shaun and Jessie, and you were already past the worst of it.”
“Yeah, you’re so good to your body, you’ll be over this by Friday, easy.” Mary grinned. “Now, if it were me,” she said, waving a hand to indicate her ample figure, “I’d be bedridden for a week. I wish I had your self-discipline at the gym-and the kitchen. And the grocery store.” The others laughed, but Savannah shook her head.
“This isn’t going to be as easy to get rid of, I don’t think. I’ve never felt this awful in my life. Honestly, it’s kind of disconcerting.”
“Well, I hate to bring it up, Van, but you are getting older.”
“Mary!” Andi laughed.
“Well, it’s true! You’re, what, nearly forty-seven, you work like a maniac, you just got back from nearly three months on the road. Your body is just plain worn out, sister. Of course you feel the worst you’ve ever felt. When was the last time you got sick at the tail end of so much activity?”
“That’s true,” Colleen said.
Savannah pouted. “Not that it makes me feel any better.”
“I know.” Mary gave her a sympathetic smile. “But seriously, you’re going to be fine. The flu can be pretty dangerous, though. Go to your doctor if you’re really and truly worried. Just don’t be surprised if he tells you you need to relax a little. Like you said, it’s been a long time since you got sick. You’re just due for a good hard knock to the immune system.”
The conversation turned to homeopathic flu treatments, and Savannah let the others chat and eat while she sat back and sipped her water. Mary was probably right. Just a flu, maybe a bad one, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
She just couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that she was wrong.
JESSIE WAS ON HER WAY to turn off the
Jessie smiled at the woman and tilted her head towards Marriage & Family. “Sure, it’s right over here.”
The woman fell in step behind her. “I looked once but didn’t see it. The computer said you had it, though.”
“Someone might have mis-shelved it; happens all the time. I’m pretty sure we had at least a couple copies, though.” She ran a finger along the spines, then knelt to check the bottom shelf. “Ah ha! Here we go.” She pulled a copy and handed it to the customer. “Great book, too. Can I help you with anything else?”
“No, that’s all.”
Jessie walked her to the front and rang up her purchase. Once the customer was gone, she flipped the switch on the sign and locked the door. Closing didn’t take her long, and when she finished her job she poked her head in the stockroom where Torrie was doing inventory. “I’m outta here. See you tomorrow.”
“Will do – oh, wait a minute.” Torrie nodded to an open-top box on the floor. “Copies of your mom’s books for that fundraiser we’re helping with. Think you could take them home and have her sign them?”
Jessie had forgotten all about those, but being reminded made her question whether she’d gotten this job solely because of the access it would give Torrie to Savannah. It was the kind of thing she’d hoped to avoid. Were it not for her love of books, she wouldn’t have applied at all. She hoisted the box with a grimace. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Tell her thanks for me.”
“Will do.”
Jessie backed out of the front door, grimacing under the weight of the box. Hardbacks were a pain to move-but they made great gifts. The private Christian school where they were helping with the fundraiser would make a mint selling the autographed copies.
She dropped the box into the front seat of her car, and the inventory list blew off the top. Her mother’s face smiled up at her from the book’s cover. She tossed her purse over it and shut the door.
Once home, she was not at all surprised to see her mother asleep on the couch. The first few times she’d found her that way, Jessie had been stunned. She’d never seen her mother nap. Savannah never had the time. But this flu she had was really kicking her butt. Jessie wasn’t happy that her mother was miserable, but she did feel a teensy bit smug at seeing her laid out as badly as Jessie had been when she’d had the flu last year.
Human after all.
The uncharitable thought burned in her spirit. It had been a particularly bad day for the kindness of her thoughts toward her mother. She’d overheard one customer gushing to another about Savannah’s talk at the conference, which had then segued into a hearsay-based discussion of her marriage and family life. Jessie had bitten back a correction, not wanting to reveal her own identity. But hearing her mother nearly sainted by two total strangers had really gotten under her skin.
Seeing her mother curled beneath the quilt kicked her guilt into high gear. Savannah couldn’t help what people said about her or control other people’s motives. Jessie knew her anger was misplaced, but it had turned in Savannah’s direction for so long that she channeled it toward her practically out of habit.
Time for penance. Jessie left the books by the door and went to the kitchen. It was nearly seven-thirty already, but she was hungry and could tell by the lack of dirty dishes that her mother likely hadn’t eaten much that day. She decided to go all-out and make her mother’s chicken soup.
Standing on tiptoes, she pulled the wooden recipe box from the cabinet above the stove. She hadn’t cooked anything from scratch in ages – but then again, neither had Savannah. Before she’d started working, Savannah had always made everything by hand – even bread. Jessie could remember coming home to the most amazing smells when she was in elementary school. But the bigger A &A got, and the more writing Savannah was contracted to do and the more speaking engagements she received, the less time she spent in the kitchen, until the only one who cooked anything anymore was Shaun. And his repertoire was limited to the basics; everything else came from a can or box.
Jessie flipped through the index cards until she found the soup recipe that had nourished her through countless childhood ailments. How long had it been since she’d had it? Eight years, easily. She read the ingredients, mouth watering at the memories of the taste, and began pulling items from the fridge and pantry. She’d never made anything more complex than pancakes from scratch when the boxed mix had run out – she hoped she wouldn’t mess up the soup. She was a lousy cook and she knew it; she seemed to be missing the domestic gene, and by the time she’d been old enough to start helping in the kitchen Savannah had been wrapped up in A &A and book tours and hadn’t had time to teach her anything. But it’s not rocket science, right? I can totally do this. So what if the recipe is two cards long?
She had the chicken boiling in a pot when Savannah wandered in, her short hair sticking out in crazy directions and her eyes droopy with sleep. “What’s going on in here?”
Jessie summoned her compassion. “I’m making you chicken noodle soup.”
“Well, that’s sweet, Jessie. Thank you.” Savannah glanced into the pot. “What’s in here?”
“The chicken.”
“What did you use?”
Jessie held up the card. “Well, it said to use a whole chicken, but we didn’t have one so I just used a bunch of
