The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake (7 page)

In fact, according to Wade, it had been the pastor’s idea to hold the funeral for our long-lost baby. But as Vonnie later confessed, the funeral had been more of an “intervention” for me.

“Donna dear, you were so distraught, and with all your talk about dying, Fred and I were concerned. We had to take this course of
action. We were trying to save your life.”

Their action had been to invite me to dinner then surprise me with a drive to the graveyard.

I’d call it a kidnapping, really, though I wouldn’t say so officially.

All I know is that when Wade, my dad, the Westbrooks, and the pastor had gathered around baby Jamie Lee’s grave marker, I’d fallen to my knees, pounding my fists against the frozen ground as I wept.

Perhaps that was the reason I felt lighter: I’d finally acknowledged my secret grief and I’d wept until I’d felt God’s presence.

I stood up and peeked out the blinds covering my bedroom
window. It was still dark.

I laughed at myself. Me, feeling God’s presence? I didn’t even believe in the existence of God. (A little secret I kept from my Potluck Club friends.)

The thought of them made me stifle a laugh. What would they say if they knew?

I could hear Evie now. “I always knew that girl was a heathen.” And Vonnie would counter, “Now, Evie, this just means we need to pray for her.”

I snorted. Prayer. What good did it do to pray to a God who was such a cruel master? As far as I was concerned, if he existed at all, he existed as the author of all heartache. Who needed to serve
a God like that?

My own heartache had started early, when I was only four. That’s when the most important person in my life walked out on me. I’d watched, one Sunday morning, as my mother sang a duet with the church choir director. Their voices blended so perfectly that my toddler self sat beside my dad spellbound. But after the service, instead of heading for home, Mom hopped into the choir director’s Volkswagen bug and headed for I-70 and a new life.

And me? That’s what hurt the most. I wasn’t a good enough reason for my mother to stay married much less stay around.

Dad did his best to raise me, but I’d wanted my mother. That is, until my fifth-grade Sunday school teacher stepped in. Vonnie Westbrook had reached out to me to become the mother figure I’d so desperately needed. We were now so close that strangers often mistook her for my mother. And as far as I was concerned, their misguided observation was truth.

Vonnie’s motherly influence hadn’t been enough to stop me from sleeping with my high school sweetheart. As latchkey teenagers, Wade and I had spent too many unsupervised hours alone in my bedroom.

That’s how baby Jamie Lee came to be conceived.

I padded to the bathroom and switched on the light. When my eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, I looked at myself in the mirror. It was a reflection I still hated. I hated it because of what I had done, for what I had become. I splashed cold water on my face, then patted it dry with a towel.

My constant guilt had somehow been relieved, if only temporarily, at the service as Pastor Kevin yammered on about God’s love for me regardless.

Could what he said really be true?

Yeah, I wish.

I looked at the reflection of my eyes and saw the truth ignite in a flash of anger. I was too despicable for God to love. I knew it,
and he knew it.

I hung my towel on the rack next to the sink. Even if there were a loving God, he had to know I was worse than my own mother.
She’d only abandoned me, not terminated my existence.

I sighed deeply, trying to shake off the despair that had jolted me back to the past. I padded barefoot toward the kitchen to make a cup of joe.

If there was truth, I reasoned, I’d find it in a strong cup of coffee. I always said that if you drank enough of it no one would be able
to tell you were dead.

Which was a good thing because since that failed rescue attempt up above Boulder, I had been dead. Vonnie had been right to be concerned for my life. When the Long baby was swept from my arms in those floodwaters, I’d finally come to understand the loss of my own baby. That loss had magnified, when, just a few days ago, I was served papers in infant Bailey Ann Long’s wrongful death lawsuit. I wasn’t sure what I’d have done if Clay hadn’t been there to comfort me when I opened that envelope. Reading that letter made me feel as if my pretense at life was over. Suicide had seemed like a solid, logical solution to my pain.

But though my life was a lie, I’d decided to live. Maybe it was the presence of God that touched me or maybe it was something else. I don’t know. All I know is I have to wait to see if there really is something called hope and if it can be applied to me.

Once in the kitchen, I poured ground coffee into the top of my coffeemaker and filled the reservoir with water and hit the start button. While the coffee brewed, I stared out my kitchen window and watched the first rays of sunlight turn the darkness into a pale blue that backlit the snow-covered peaks. Sunrise was another reason to live, I decided as the sun rose higher. It brightened as a long band of clouds striped the sky above the mountaintops with a bold pink. It looked as if Mother Nature was playing with her crayons.

I poured a cup of coffee into my mug, which was emblazoned with my favorite one-word description of me: “Dangerous.” Some of the hot coffee splashed onto my new red flannel pajamas. Normally I sleep in my sweats, but Vonnie and Fred had given me the pj’s as an early Christmas gift. I was surprised to find I liked the pj’s, despite the fact they were covered in grinning snowmen. I grabbed a dishcloth from the sink and wiped the coffee off several of the snowmen’s faces. “What do you have to smile about now?” I asked them out loud.

That’s when I realized it. I was smiling too.

I took a swig of coffee, black and thick, just the way I liked it, and watched the ever-expanding rays of the sun pinken the snowcaps.

Come on, now
, I chided myself.
What’s the big deal?
Could it be that I was excited about my breakfast date with David?

That couldn’t be it. I wasn’t really all that interested in men. Okay, it’s not that I preferred girls or anything like that. It’s just that the truth, simply put, was I didn’t think I deserved a guy.

I took another sip of my coffee. David, just like Wade and Clay, would have to settle for friendship. That was all I had to give.

With the sun spreading its glow over the morning, I decided to walk to the café, despite the bitter cold. Besides, in the warmth of my black down parka, only my nose and cheeks felt the sting of winter.

When I opened the door of the Higher Grounds Café, a community diner nestled inside a hundred-year-old schoolhouse, I realized it was still a bit early for David. But it wasn’t too early for me to start on my second cup of joe.

I sat down at my usual spot and signaled Sal for a cup, which she immediately poured. As soon as she scurried to another table, I looked up to see Larry the cook standing in front of me. He was another one of the local clods who had asked me out following Lisa Leann’s “dare to be brave in dating” column.

“Hi, Larry,” I said without enthusiasm.

“Just stopped by your table to let you know I’ve enjoyed seeing you around here lately.”

I felt my eyes narrow. “Thanks, Larry. I think. I guess it’s good to see you too.”

He looked goofy, with his netted hair slicked back, showing that gap-toothed grin of his. He continued in his politest of tones. “I wanted to tell you that I’ve noted and appreciate your improved attitude.”

My sip of coffee almost spewed from my mouth. “Excuse me?”

Larry looked over his shoulder as Sal gave him the signal to get back to work. “Can’t talk right now; the kitchen’s calling. I just wanted you to know that red is definitely your color.”

“I’m not wearing red,” I said.

“You were last night.”

I felt the color rise in my cheeks. “You were spying on me?”

He laughed and said, “You’re really something, you know that?” as he scurried to the back. Just before he disappeared behind the counter he added, “Glad to see your sense of humor has improved too.”

I blinked as he disappeared into the kitchen. Larry was a bit of a jerk, but I couldn’t imagine him as a Peeping Tom. Well, whatever he was, I’d get to the bottom of it. No one was allowed to spy on
me in my own home. I’m the law, after all.

The whole episode left me feeling off center until I thought of all the things I’d do to him if I caught him outside my house.

But first things first. Later today I’d run to the hardware store and order blinds for the kitchen and living room, a little chore I’d been putting off for ages. I already had blinds in the bedroom so I could sleep through the day when I was on the graveyard shift.

The door swung open, and Clay, looking as fashionable as a metrosexual, entered the room. Now I’d seen everything.

What had he done to himself? A haircut? An eyebrow wax? A new outfit consisting of a sleek gold-colored knit turtleneck with formfitting brown knit pants? I’d known he’d lost a lot of weight lately, but just who was he trying to impress? When he waved in my direction, my eyes widened. Tell me it isn’t so—the man even sported a manicure.

I whistled. “That’s some new look you got there, bud.”

“Do you like it? I ran down to the Silverthorne outlets after the party yesterday and did a little shopping.”

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Are you filling in for Ryan Seacrest on
American Idol
?”

He pulled up a chair. “Just trying to change my image.”

“What’s wrong with your old image?”

Just then I caught that new waitress—Eleana, I think her name is—as she smiled in Clay’s direction. I looked from her to him then said, “Whoa, hold on. Don’t you think she’s a little young for you?”

Clay looked confused, then caught my meaning. The man actually blushed. “No, no. It’s not like that. I’m not interested in
Eleana.”

Then suddenly, pad and pen in hand, her long blonde hair swept up into a ponytail, she was standing next to our table. Was she batting her eyelashes?

“Hi, Clay!” she said in a voice that was three notches too perky.
“What will it be?”

I rolled my eyes. The man was trying to impress a girl who looked
like a teenager? Sick.

Clay pretended he hadn’t noticed her enthusiasm. “Just coffee for now,” he said without so much as a smile.

As soon as she turned to grab her coffeepot, I started scolding him. “Clay, Clay, Clay, I’d hate to have to arrest you for underage dating.”

“I told you, I’m not interested in Eleana.”

“Then what gives?” I asked. “There’s definitely something going on here. Care to tell me?”

The man looked flustered as Eleana returned to pour him a cup of coffee. As soon as she left, he said, “Ah, well, Donna, to tell you
the truth, I’ve been meaning to talk to you...”

The bell above the door sounded once again, and I looked up. “David,” I called out. “Right on time.”

David was looking good and, in fact, dressed much the same as Clay, except the turtleneck that peeked out of his black leather coat was also black, like mine.

Clay looked confused. “You’re meeting David for breakfast?”

“Yeah, want to join us?”

Clay stood up so suddenly his chair teetered. “No, no. I’ll catch
you later.”

“But you wanted to tell me something.”

“Later,” Clay said as he backed away.

I squinted at him. Clay had a scoop for me? Now, this was a reversal. He was the one always pestering me for the latest town gossip so he’d have something to print in that paper of his.

“All right,” I said, watching him retreat to a table in the corner.

David sat down across from me, but I looked past him. Even though the morning glare was shining on the café windows, my “policed” eyes managed to capture a glimpse of Lizzie and her family drive past, probably on their way to church.

I turned my attention back to David and felt my heart skip a beat. He was looking at me so intensely.

“How are you?” I asked, hoping to break the moment.

“Has anyone ever told you how great you look? I mean, honestly, you look so normal.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

David laughed. “Take it as one. The women of Hollywood are more about makeup and plastic surgery. They can’t hold a candle to your natural beauty.”

My cheeks burned at that remark. Natural beauty? I didn’t know whether to laugh or to take him in for questioning. My eyes darted over to Clay to see if he’d noticed my blush. Our eyes locked, then he hid his face behind a menu as Eleana ran to take his order. Was she flirting with him? She was! She was even touching his shoulder, in a very friendly sort of way. From where I sat, it looked like the girl had it bad for him. Go figure.

After David and I had a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and Larry’s spice apple muffins, David took a sip of his coffee then said, “I’ve
been waiting till this moment to tell you my surprise.”

I looked over to where Clay was sitting; he had finished his breakfast too. He stood up and flipped a dollar on the table be- fore sliding into a new form-fitting leather jacket. Leather jacket? What was the deal with that?

I turned my attention back to David. “Surprise?” I asked.

Before he could make his announcement, the café door burst open and Lisa Leann rushed inside, stamping snow off the bottom of her furry snow boots, which perfectly matched her fur-trimmed, camel-colored suede jacket. I suppose she thought it complemented her red hair and all. Honestly, was color and fashion the only nonsense that woman kept in her head?

As soon as she saw Clay, she ran to him. “Clay, darlin’, look at you. My, you are a handsome one.” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and spoke even louder. “The girls around here are starting to notice. Why, two of the single women in that Sunday school class I teach asked me about you just the other day.”