Oklahoma Reunion

“Oh, Jen. That’s … complicated.”

Over the years, Kait had become proficient at sidestepping the issue of Jenna’s paternal heritage, offering vague generalities, quickly changing the subject or gently redirecting the conversation. But the older Jenna got, the more difficult it had become to change the subject once her daughter began tenaciously delving for answers.

With the death of Kait’s father six weeks ago, everything had converged, and she realized it was time for that overdue heart-to-heart with her daughter.

Ready or not, the time had come to return to the town that had shown her the door eight years ago.

“Can we stay?”

“Stay?” Kait blinked, tuning back in to her daughter’s words. “Jen, Philly is our home.”

“Does it have to be? Tulsa’s so pretty. Why can’t we live here?”

Kait inspected the passing scenery, as if seeing it for the first time through a child’s eyes. “I’d forgotten how beautiful Tulsa is.” She sighed. “Can we talk about this more after we get to the house?”

Jenna nodded, a half frown on her face as she glanced back out the window. She knew she was being deterred.

“Momma? Are you sad that you aren’t going to marry Steven anymore.”

Kait rubbed her naked ring finger. Steven would have solved all her problems. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t take the easy way out. It wasn’t fair to Steven. She didn’t love him.

“No, honey. That’s all over.”

“Well then, I was wondering.”

“Now what, Jen?” Kait asked, distracted as she checked over her shoulder for oncoming traffic.

“When can we tell Ryan Jones he’s my daddy?”

Startled by the question, Kait turned to her daughter. “Soon,” she said. But was Kait ready for soon? She hoped so.

Chapter Two

“May I go outside?” Jenna asked.

Kait looked up from where she sat cross-legged on a braided rag rug in the middle of the parlor. She’d spent most of the last hour going through the paperwork from the Realtor.

“Isn’t it raining?”

“I won’t get wet. I’ll sit on the porch and read until lunchtime.” Jenna held up a well-worn paperback.

“Okay, but wait a minute.” Kait closed the folder in her hands and got to her feet. She pulled Grandmother Redbird’s colorful, fuzzy afghan off the huge oak-trimmed sofa that took up much of the room and wrapped it around her daughter’s shoulders.

Jenna gave an excited smile as Kait opened the screen door. The clean, earthy scent of rain greeted them.

“I lo-o-ove this porch,” Jenna exclaimed with a dramatic flourish.

“When I was younger, I used to sit out here and read just like you.” Kait stood in the doorway and watched the moisture hit the pavement in fat, crowned droplets.

“I wish we could live here forever.”

Forever was much too far down the road to think about. One step at a time was pretty much all Kait could handle right now. She had a good job with health benefits in Philly—a job that they needed.

It was not the answer Jenna wanted to hear.

Though it had been pouring since midnight, Kait wasn’t about to complain. The rain tapping against the bedroom window soothed her to sleep. It was the best sleep she’d had in a very long time.

As Jenna settled into the porch swing, rocking back and forth with a rhythmic squeak, Kait closed the screen. She wandered through the parlor to pick up her pile of papers before she made her way to the kitchen.

On a rainy day in the middle of the confusion her life had become, the century-old foursquare house was a haven, the kitchen her favorite room.

Kait inhaled. With the extra moisture in the air, it was possible to smell traces of the past—a hint of yeast and cornmeal mixed with the scent of cooking oil from the old deep fryer.

Elisi was still in this house. Kait had learned the Cherokee word for maternal grandmother when she was a child. In those days, this same house had been a magical place her parents took her to visit once a month. She never imagined she’d end up actually living here after her mother and her grandmother passed away.

Now the house was hers.

If she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine her grandmother standing at the stove stirring pepper pot soup for dinner and preparing traditional Cherokee fry bread.

Kait turned on the kitchen faucet. Water spit for several minutes before releasing a steady stream into the old porcelain sink. She filled a cast-iron pot halfway then heaved it onto the enormous white porcelain gas stove to boil.

Behind her in the pantry, a steady drip, drip, drip echoed into the air. Kait flipped on the light switch and discovered a puddle on the faded linoleum. A glance at the ceiling revealed a yellow circle where moisture dripped through and splashed to the cracked floor below.

“Great. Just great.” She lifted a dented tin kettle from a peg on the wall and placed it beneath the leak. Add this to her plumbing problems in the main bathroom and her list was growing.

Fortunately the dripping hadn’t come close to the shelves packed with jars of pepper jelly, fruit jams and vegetables.

She was grateful for a full pantry and a freezer stocked with home-baked casseroles. They would go a long way toward helping stretch her meager funds until the property sold. How she was going to pay the rent on the apartment back in Philly and manage the repairs on this house would be her next challenge.

Kait laughed. Life was never boring.

As she began to peel carrots for her and Jenna’s own pepper pot soup, her cell phone began to ring. The number was all too familiar, and Kait couldn’t hold back a smile.

Molly Springer.

“Kaitey-girl, you’re back.”

“Oh, Molly, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“How are you doing? How was the drive?”

“Not bad. Jenna talked for twelve hours straight. That’ll keep anyone alert.”

Molly laughed. “Good. Are you settled in?”

“Getting there. There’s a lot to do around here. My father apparently hadn’t done any repairs since my mother was alive.”

“I’ll help. I have plenty of grandchildren who can give you a hand. No worries.”