Read Online The Secret's in the Sauce by Linda Evans Shepherd - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Evans Shepherd
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up and ran toward the guest bedroom as the bell continued to clatter. “Vonnieeeeee!”
Mother was sitting in her rocker, rubbing her leg. “I’ve gotta get to the bathroom.”
I grabbed Mother by an elbow and pulled her into a standing position. “Why didn’t you just use your crutches? They’re right here.”
“My ankle just hurts too much,” Mother huffed as she leaned on me and hobbled toward the bathroom.
“It’s probably just irritated from the cast.” I gritted my teeth as she rested her ninety-five-pound frame on me. “You see the doc Friday, maybe he’ll take it off. Won’t that be a relief?”
She was wearing her favorite pink velour jogging suit and would have looked cute if it weren’t for her sour expression. She ran her fingers through her short but stylish white hair. Her blue eyes flashed. “I don’t think I can last till Friday.”
I got Mother to the bathroom door. She practically slammed the door in my face. “I can manage from here.”
I let out a sigh and tried not to cross my eyes. It was bad enough Mother had slipped on the ice outside her condo in Frisco and broken her ankle those weeks back, but when Dad dropped her on my doorstep, she’d become my problem.
Oh sure, Dad visited, but I think the man was enjoying his freedom from her crabby disposition. I knew I was looking forward to saying good-bye.
I headed back to the kitchen, straightening the pillows on the couch as I passed. The house never looked tidy when I played caregiver. But it helped to be surrounded by so many friendly faces from my doll collection.
But that was only one more thing Mother hated about moving into my house.
“Aren’t you ever going to grow up?” she’d ask as she’d shove my favorite dolls off the couch. “There’s no room for real people in here.”
I stopped and straightened a newly framed photo of David that was propped on the hearth. He was the spitting image of his handsome father, Joseph Ray Jewell. Joseph had been killed in Nam and had been my first husband, a husband I’d never mentioned to my Fred—that is, until David had showed up on our doorstep. I was happy to have found my son after a lifetime forced apart, a separation for which I blamed Mother. So, in many ways David still felt like company as Fred and I were just getting to know him. Though I had to hand it to Fred. He was starting to adjust to the news that I’d held such a secret for three decades of marriage. Surprise, dear. Here’s David, my long-lost son who was raised by that famed Hollywood actress, Harmony Harris.
It had been touchy between the two of us for a while, but Fred was beginning to accept David as the child the two of us never had, God bless him.
Once in the kitchen, I finished slicing the apples and sprinkled them with cinnamon, sugar, and butter. It wouldn’t be long until my little house smelled sweet and cozy.
My mother’s voice shrilled, “Vonnie! How do you expect me to get back to my room?”
“Coming!”
I slid the pie into the oven then rinsed my hands in the sink.
“Vonnie, what’s taking so long?”
“Just a minute.” I sprinted across the house to find her holding on to the doorjamb. I offered her my arm, and she locked on with a vise grip as she hobbled back toward her room. “Does your ankle hurt more than usual?”
She nodded.
“We’ll have to ask Dr. Galloway about that when we see him.” I helped her back to her rocking chair, daring a smile. “Aren’t you looking forward to moving back home with Dad?”
The deep line between her eyebrows furrowed. “I can just imagine the mess he’s made of the place.”
“Fred says it’s not so bad. He was over there helping Dad install your new microwave after dinner last night. He said Dad seemed to be doing well.”
“Humph. Well, the man’s had all his evening meals here with us,” Mother said. “So hopefully I won’t have to face a sink full of dirty dishes. But I know he’s not dusted or swept. And I can
Mother was sitting in her rocker, rubbing her leg. “I’ve gotta get to the bathroom.”
I grabbed Mother by an elbow and pulled her into a standing position. “Why didn’t you just use your crutches? They’re right here.”
“My ankle just hurts too much,” Mother huffed as she leaned on me and hobbled toward the bathroom.
“It’s probably just irritated from the cast.” I gritted my teeth as she rested her ninety-five-pound frame on me. “You see the doc Friday, maybe he’ll take it off. Won’t that be a relief?”
She was wearing her favorite pink velour jogging suit and would have looked cute if it weren’t for her sour expression. She ran her fingers through her short but stylish white hair. Her blue eyes flashed. “I don’t think I can last till Friday.”
I got Mother to the bathroom door. She practically slammed the door in my face. “I can manage from here.”
I let out a sigh and tried not to cross my eyes. It was bad enough Mother had slipped on the ice outside her condo in Frisco and broken her ankle those weeks back, but when Dad dropped her on my doorstep, she’d become my problem.
Oh sure, Dad visited, but I think the man was enjoying his freedom from her crabby disposition. I knew I was looking forward to saying good-bye.
I headed back to the kitchen, straightening the pillows on the couch as I passed. The house never looked tidy when I played caregiver. But it helped to be surrounded by so many friendly faces from my doll collection.
But that was only one more thing Mother hated about moving into my house.
“Aren’t you ever going to grow up?” she’d ask as she’d shove my favorite dolls off the couch. “There’s no room for real people in here.”
I stopped and straightened a newly framed photo of David that was propped on the hearth. He was the spitting image of his handsome father, Joseph Ray Jewell. Joseph had been killed in Nam and had been my first husband, a husband I’d never mentioned to my Fred—that is, until David had showed up on our doorstep. I was happy to have found my son after a lifetime forced apart, a separation for which I blamed Mother. So, in many ways David still felt like company as Fred and I were just getting to know him. Though I had to hand it to Fred. He was starting to adjust to the news that I’d held such a secret for three decades of marriage. Surprise, dear. Here’s David, my long-lost son who was raised by that famed Hollywood actress, Harmony Harris.
It had been touchy between the two of us for a while, but Fred was beginning to accept David as the child the two of us never had, God bless him.
Once in the kitchen, I finished slicing the apples and sprinkled them with cinnamon, sugar, and butter. It wouldn’t be long until my little house smelled sweet and cozy.
My mother’s voice shrilled, “Vonnie! How do you expect me to get back to my room?”
“Coming!”
I slid the pie into the oven then rinsed my hands in the sink.
“Vonnie, what’s taking so long?”
“Just a minute.” I sprinted across the house to find her holding on to the doorjamb. I offered her my arm, and she locked on with a vise grip as she hobbled back toward her room. “Does your ankle hurt more than usual?”
She nodded.
“We’ll have to ask Dr. Galloway about that when we see him.” I helped her back to her rocking chair, daring a smile. “Aren’t you looking forward to moving back home with Dad?”
The deep line between her eyebrows furrowed. “I can just imagine the mess he’s made of the place.”
“Fred says it’s not so bad. He was over there helping Dad install your new microwave after dinner last night. He said Dad seemed to be doing well.”
“Humph. Well, the man’s had all his evening meals here with us,” Mother said. “So hopefully I won’t have to face a sink full of dirty dishes. But I know he’s not dusted or swept. And I can
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