Read Online The Wedding Tree by Robin Wells - Free Book Online Page B

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—leaned in. “Is she on the ceiling here?”
    â€œI—I don’t think so.” I started to explain that she could read my thoughts, then realized how cuckoo that sounded. They already thought I was crazy enough.
    â€œSo . . . where do you and Hope plan to begin?” Eddie asked.
    â€œOh, my—I don’t think it matters. Usually if you just dive in, you’ll end up where you need to be sooner or later. Thinking too much can paralyze you.”
    â€œInteresting philosophy,” the redhead said. “You’ll have plenty of options.”
    I followed his gaze into the dining room. For the first time, I realized it was stacked with trunks and boxes from the attic. He and Eddie must have moved them down while I was in the hospital.
    I patted Eddie’s hand, then turned it loose. “You’d better get going or you’ll miss your train.”
    â€œPlane,” Eddie said softly.
    â€œYes, of course.” How could I have forgotten how the world had speeded up?
    After a flurry of good-bye hugs and kisses, the screen door banged shut, and a car engine growled to life in the driveway.
    As the sound receded into the distance, Hope handed me a tissue and sat down in the chair beside me. “You okay?”
    I hadn’t even realized a tear was snaking down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away. “Just fine, dear. Looking forward to spending time with you.”
    â€œMe, too.”
    â€œI have so much I want to tell you. I . . .” A sound from the kitchen made me jump. “Who’s that?”
    â€œThe home health aide.”
    Oh bother! I didn’t want a third party hanging around while I spilled the secrets of my soul.
    â€œI don’t need a nursemaid,” I grumbled. “Can you get rid of her?”
    â€œNot entirely,” Hope said. “Eddie absolutely insisted you have help here around the clock.”
    â€œBut I want to talk to you privately.”
    â€œWell, then, I can send her on an errand.”
    The suggestion brightened my mood.“Why don’t you do that, dear, then put on some tea. You and I are due for a nice long chat.”

6

    hope
    I was a little nervous about being alone with Gran. It was kind of like the time I’d babysat my friend’s toddler—the child had no knowledge of her own limitations, I had no confidence she would heed my warnings, and I worried she was going to fall and hurt herself. What if I didn’t watch her closely enough and something happened? I reached for Gran’s arm to help her stand up, then realized my efforts were only thwarting her own.
    â€œI can do it, child,” Gran muttered, pushing out of her chair. “Stop hovering over me.”
    â€œI promise to quit hovering if you promise to use your walker.”
    â€œFiddlesticks. That thing’s more likely to trip me than help me.” To my relief, though, she reached for the walker all the same and shuffled through the dining room into the kitchen.
    She stopped in the doorway and eyed the array of cakes, pies, and cookies lined up on the counter. “Good Lord! Looks like we’re having a bake sale.”
    â€œYou should see the refrigerator,” I said. “Half the town sent over a casserole.”
    A grin spread across her face. “That’s the way things work around here. Someone has a hard time, and everyone tries to feed them better.” Scooting her walker in front of her, she shambled to the kitchen table and sat down.
    â€œDo you want iced tea or hot tea?” I asked.
    â€œHot, please. And are those Mabel Tharp’s brownies?”
    A parade of people had brought food over the past few days. I scanned my memory for the brownie bearer. “Is she a thin, elderly lady with rosy cheeks?”
    â€œYep, she always looks like she fell into the rouge pot. But she’s not elderly. Why, she’s only seventy-eight.”
    Practically a spring