Chapter 11 #3
She outwardly withered a small bit, and he wanted to kick himself.
He was being a jerk and he knew it, although Karen’s pointed look gave him extra confirmation.
Unable to bring himself to say anything else, he took a scoop of beef and rice and put it on his plate.
He handed the platter to Karen, then took a bite.
The balance of spices was perfect. The kick of heat he felt seconds after he swallowed his first bite was exactly enough. Somehow without knowing what Asian food tasted like, Phoebe was able to make this the best Hunan beef he’d ever had.
His head jerked as he heard Karen cough. She reached for her glass of water. “Hot!” she said before gulping down the water, her face turning red.
Knowing drinking water wouldn’t cancel the spicy heat from the food, he got up from the table and poured a glass of milk, then handed it to her. “Try this.”
She gulped down the milk. When she set the glass down, she had a milk mustache, which Malachi immediately pointed out. She wiped her napkin over her mouth. “Phoebe, what did you put in this?” she choked out.
“I followed the recipe.” Her voice was small, and she shrank in the chair. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know it’s supposed to be spicy. I’m just not used to it.” Another coughing fit erased her weak smile.
Jalon slid the plate of bread and butter over to her. “This will help too.”
Phoebe started to rise. “I’ll make you something else, Karen.”
She held up her hand and finished chewing the bite of bread. “It’s okay. There’s some leftover macaroni and cheese. I’ll have that.”
Malachi, who’d been oddly restrained during all this, pointed to the Hunan beef and blurted, “ Mamm shouldn’t cook that stuff anymore. It’s yucky.”
Phoebe stilled. Then she looked at Jalon. “I ... I’m sorry.” Before he could respond she left the kitchen. A few seconds later he heard her running up the stairs.
“This is yer fault.” Karen took another drink of milk.
“Mine?” Jalon said.
When she swallowed, she added, “She wouldn’t have reacted that way if she wasn’t already upset before you got here.” She set the glass down, her eyes watery. “Something’s going on with you, and clearly it’s affecting her. You need to straighten this out.”
Karen was right. He’d convinced Phoebe that he wanted her and Malachi to stay, only to turn around and practically ignore both of them.
But if he went to her, he would take her in his arms and let her know the beef was perfect and Karen was a wimp when it came to spicy food.
He’d hold her and remind her that Malachi is four and didn’t mean to hurt her feelings.
He’d apologize for giving her mixed signals, for being rude and upsetting her.
Then he would cup her face in his hands and kiss her until the tears disappeared and a smile appeared in its place, because for the past week kissing her and seeing her smile had been two things he was desperate to do.
Since he couldn’t, he didn’t go after her. Instead, he left the house, like the coward he was.
Phoebe sat at the edge of Jalon’s bed, her face hot with embarrassment.
She should have warned Karen about the spice, even though Phoebe hadn’t thought it was all that hot.
Actually, she thought it was delicious. No wonder Jalon liked it.
Or at least, someone else’s version of it.
He didn’t look too thrilled with the bite he took.
And now she’d wasted a good cut of meat and spices she wouldn’t normally buy because she ruined the dish.
Her guilt was compounded by knowing it wasn’t her money she’d wasted, but Jalon’s.
She got up from the bed and walked to the window.
She should go downstairs and apologize to Karen and Jalon, and to make sure Malachi was eating his macaroni and cheese, because she didn’t want that to go to waste too.
Instead she stared out the window. Dusk blanketed the sky, but there was enough gray light that she could see Jalon walking toward the field.
Short stalks of old corn stubble poked through the snow over part of the field, and the rest was covered with snow.
It reminded her of her father’s field right before he and her brothers tilled the soil to prepare for planting in April.
While they did that, Phoebe and her mother would plant the garden.
Phoebe pressed her forehead against the cold window glass. This year Mamm would have to do it without her.
Jalon leaned against the white wood fencing that surrounded the pasture. The horses were still out, pushing their noses through the snow to reach the stiff, cold grass underneath. He leaned his forearms on the fence. His shoulders slumped, and he hung his head.
Her heart squeezed in her chest. He was unhappy. She’d suspected it the past few days, but seeing it firsthand drove it home.
“Phoebe?” Karen poked her head through the doorway. Her eyes were a little red-rimmed from the hot-pepper coughing fit, but she looked fine otherwise.
“I’m so sorry.” Phoebe opened the door wider to let her in. “I didn’t realize it was that hot.”
“You tasted it?”
“ Ya , I thought it was fine.”
She chuckled. “You have a fireproof tongue, then.”
“I didn’t mean to ruin the meal.”
Karen shook her head. “You didn’t. It was good. Even through the heat I could taste that the flavors were delicious.”
“Jalon didn’t think so.”
Sighing, Karen said, “I don’t know what’s going on with Jalon. He’s definitely not acting like himself.”
“Because Malachi and I are here.”
Karen paused. “Maybe you should talk to him,” she finally said.
“We talked, when he told me he wanted Malachi and me to stay.”
“That sounds like him.” She put her hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. “I know he cares about you.”
Phoebe turned and walked back to the window. Jalon was gone. So were the horses, so Jalon must be doing the chores. “He’s a nice man.”
“ Ya. He is.” Karen came up beside her. “But that’s not why he cares about you. When he thought you were in trouble, he dropped everything and went to see you. Then he brought you back here. He wouldn’t do that only because he’s nice.”
No one with half a conscience would have left Phoebe and Malachi there after what Aunt Bertha said and did. She faced Karen, suddenly needing to ask a question that had been on her mind since she first arrived. “Why haven’t you and Jalon gotten together?”
“Because I don’t need any more brothers,” she said, sounding a bit surprised. “Like I said, Jalon and I are friends.”
“ Gut friends,” Phoebe couldn’t help but add. Karen didn’t have a child or a past she had to continually run from. Karen was pretty, sweet, great with Malachi, and just as good of a cook as Phoebe. She was the perfect woman for Jalon.
“That’s because we’ve been neighbors for so long. Jalon has never been interested in me and the feeling is mutual.” She gave her a knowing look. “He is, however, interested in you.” The look disappeared, replaced with determination. “I’m going to have a talk with him.”
Phoebe stopped her. “Please. Don’t.”
“He can’t keep acting this way. Weird and out of sorts. Something is bothering him, I can tell, and it’s not you and Malachi.”
Phoebe wanted to believe that. But Jalon didn’t act weird and out of sorts around Karen.
He acted comfortable. Caring. They made more sense than he and Phoebe did, despite the thought of them being together making her blood pressure spike.
“Did Malachi eat his macaroni and cheese?” she asked, resisting the urge to grind her teeth.
“Every bite.”
“I’ll clean the kitchen, then,” she said, moving past Karen.
“Phoebe, hold on—”
Phoebe ignored her and went downstairs. When she got to the kitchen, she saw that everything had been left where it was, except for Malachi’s plate, which was probably in the sink. Malachi and Blue were nowhere in sight.
“He’s helping Jalon with the chores.” Karen came up behind her, answering Phoebe’s unspoken question.
Phoebe nodded. Despite Jalon’s mood lately, Malachi still helped him feed and put up the animals every night. She scooped up the plate of Hunan beef and dumped it in the trash.
Karen looked inside the trash can, then at Phoebe in disbelief. “What did you do that for?”
“ Nee one was going to eat it.”
“Jalon would have.”
She put the platter in the sink next to Malachi’s supper dish, her back stiffening. She was being logical. Practical. The beef was cold, the rice glutinous and sticky. It wouldn’t taste the same heated up on the stove. It wouldn’t taste special like she’d intended it to.
“I’m going upstairs,” Karen said, sounding frustrated.
Phoebe busied herself with clearing the table as Karen huffed out of the room.
Then she washed the dishes, pots, and pans.
Cleaned the table, the counter, the stove top.
She was wiping the last crumbs off the stove when Malachi bounded in.
Before he opened his mouth she said, “Upstairs. It’s time for bed. ”
“I don’t wanna—”
“Now!”
His lower lip trembled and he turned around and dashed out of the kitchen.
Phoebe leaned against the sink, guilt washing over her in a cold wave.
She shouldn’t take her frustration out on Malachi or Karen.
She needed to apologize to Karen and hug her son.
And she needed to stop hoping she and Jalon would be together.
It was easy to pretend she had a life here in Birch Creek, that the past didn’t mean anything and the future was filled with promise, acceptance, and, possibly, the love of a good man.
But it was all a fantasy, one that was out of her reach.
It was time for her to face reality, and that meant focusing on Malachi—not her selfish desires.