Lakeside Family

“Same. Tired, but still keeps smiling.” Josie pulled on a pair of yellow gloves and stuck her hand in one of the glass mugs. She stared out the window at the smudged sky of mauve hues blended with lavender and gray. The same colors as Hannah’s bruises.

Agnes leaned a hip against the sink and cupped Josie’s cheek. “How’s her mama doing?”

Josie’s eyes drifted to the suds in the sink, watching bubbles rise to the surface of the dishwater and pop. Kind of like her dreams. “Praying for a miracle that seems out of reach.”

“Where’s your faith, girl?”

“I think it’s stored in a shoebox in my closet or some other place where I’d need a step stool to reach it.” She attempted a smile, but the muscles in her cheeks refused to cooperate.

Agnes wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “See, that’s the great thing about faith—the more you need, the bigger it grows. That little ole mustard seed turns into a mighty tree. Takes some watering, though.”

Did tears count?

Josie closed her eyes. Her daughter’s face with the dark circles and blotchy cheeks swam behind her eyelids. God, you work miracles. Please give one to Hannah.

Agnes rinsed the rest of the dishes and stacked them to dry. “You need to get out of here and go home to that sweet child.”

“I have a few more things to do. You go ahead. I can finish up here.”

The timer dinged.

Agnes reached for the oven mitts. “I’ll take care of these. You do what you gotta do, so we can both get out of here.”

As Agnes removed the batch of cookies from the oven and transferred them to the cooling rack, Josie headed into the dining room to close out the register.

Her shoulders sagged as she stuffed the receipts and cash into the bank bag and tried not to let today’s lack of customers discourage her. All businesses had slow days, right? She blamed it on the weather. Or at least she hoped that was it. She couldn’t afford to close her doors like other small businesses in the area had done in recent months. She needed the insurance for Hannah’s medical bills.

Shadows of the flames from the electric fireplace crawled up the ice-blue walls and reflected off the framed prints of European cafes. She flipped the switch. The flames flickered, then died out.

“Sugar Pie, I’m outta here.” Agnes wrapped a designer scarf around her cinnamon-colored curls like an old Hollywood movie star. Long and leggy, the transplanted Texan had a heart the size of Dallas.

“Thanks for covering for me today, Agnes.”

“Anytime. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” She winked, blew Josie a kiss and then headed out the front door.

Rusted Christmas bells hanging from a tattered ribbon—drooping with age and faded from sunlight—jangled against the glass as Agnes pulled the door closed behind her. Leftover from the previous owners of the old Baker’s Hardware. Josie considered replacing them with shiny, polished bells when she redid the place. But they added charm, character. They reminded Josie of what used to be.

Things were different now. A fresh start. New paint covered the scars, the imperfections.

The trendy coffee shop on the corner. A new beginning.

Her blends and fresh baked pastries whetted appetites more than a block away. Pride or ego didn’t tell her that. Her bank balance suggested, for once in her life, Josie had made a right choice. Business would pick back up again. It had to.

She’d give it all up, every drop and crumb, to have her daughter healthy again.

Bells from the old stone church down the street rang out the seventh hour, each note reminding Josie she needed to get moving. Hannah needed her.

The bells above the front door rattled again, startling Josie from her thoughts. A quick glance at the clock showed she was five minutes late in closing and had forgotten to turn the sign.

A man stepped through the door, closing it behind him. Dressed in a brown bomber jacket, cream cable-knit sweater and khaki cargo pants, he looked as if he had stepped from the pages of an Eddie Bauer catalog. The only thing missing was a pair of Ray-Ban aviators.

“I’m sorry, but I’m just about to close.” Josie headed for the door to flip the sign to CLOSED, but when the man turned and smiled, her footsteps stalled. “Nick. You c-came.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Hope you don’t mind a visit instead of a phone call. I have to admit seeing you at the university surprised me. It’s been a long time.”

She nodded, wishing her voice wasn’t clogged in her throat like a spoonful of peanut butter.

His long legs ate up the distance between them in a few strides. He reached for her hands, held her at arm’s length and gave her a once-over. “Wow, you look incredible.” He glanced around. “Owning a coffeehouse agrees with you. Decided against being a travel journalist, huh? Dreams can change.”

She pulled her hands away and clasped them behind her back. She couldn’t afford to let his charm soften her heart. She had a responsibility to Hannah. “Motherhood has a way of doing that.”

“You have a child? You and your husband must be very blessed. Congratulations.”

She jerked back as if she had been slapped. “Congratulations? Seriously?”

“Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry. I just assumed...”

He rubbed his earlobe and stared over her shoulder.

“You’re acting like you have no clue.” She moved to the nearest table, straightening the chairs and centering the votive candles.

Nick gripped the back of one of the chairs. “Should I have known? I haven’t been back to Ridgefield since graduation. How long ago did you leave?”

“Couldn’t shake the dust from your boots fast enough, could you?” She snatched a Family Circle magazine off the couch and dropped it in the large wicker basket next to the fireplace.

Nick leveled her with a direct look. “What’s going on here, Josie? Let’s try again. It is good to see you.”

“Is it?” She glared at him, then headed behind the counter for a cloth and bottle of sanitizer.

Nick released the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did I do to make you so angry?”

Josie spritzed sanitizer on the table. “You didn’t call, Nick. Not once. Not even when...not even when she was born. You weren’t there.” She scrubbed at the coffee ring embossed on the table, then threw down the rag. No use. The scar remained.

“But we had broken up.” He took a step toward her. “What did you expect?”

Josie held up a hand, and he stopped. “I expected you to be responsible.”

He held up his hands, palms to the ceiling. “Responsible for what? I’m so lost a GPS couldn’t bring me back to the starting point.”

She dropped onto the couch in front of the fireplace and massaged her forehead. “I needed you.”

Nick rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Just tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Two years ago, my daughter, Hannah, was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia.”

Nick sat on the matching chair across from her. “I’m so sorry.”

“She went into remission, but the leukemia has come back. Now her doctor is recommending a bone marrow transplant. I’ve been tested, but I’m not a match. Testing her other parent is the most logical choice right now.”