table where he would see it first thing. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she paused. The ghost of the last weeks seemed to have disappeared. Her cheeks had some color, her hair curled softly on her shoulders as it used to, and the woman in the mirror stood straight like the former Beth. Had getting out to one meeting where she'd been more repulsed than invigorated worked magic after all? Or was the other Beth lurking in the bedroom, ready to come out and grab her?
SEVEN
“It wasn't so bad after all, was it?”
Teza lifted one shoulder in the way she had of disparaging something that was said. “Just took time away from the important things, that's all.” She slid from the car and bent back down to look in again. “You've got your mammogram scheduled for Monday. See how much you like it.” She shut the door and stepped back, waving Kit out of the yard and down the lane to the road.
“Always has to have the last word. Always.” Kit watched her aunt through the rearview mirror. And no, she was not looking forward to it either, but duty called. Besides she had to live up to her own word. “Oh, chicken feathers.” She thumped the heel of one hand on the steering wheel. “I forgot to ask her about the picnic.” The Fourth of July celebration was only four days away, and Jefferson City went all out to have an old-fashioned celebration, not only patriotic but reminiscent of the early years of the city, now well over a hundred years old. People dressed in period clothing, mosdy turn-of-the-twentieth-century, and rode in antique cars, horses and buggies, and big-wheeled cycles. The parade could be counted on to bring in entrants from all over Jefferson County and those surrounding it. As far as local folks were concerned, the Fourth of July parade equaled the Daffodil parade in Tacoma in the spring or the Rose Parade in Pasadena, California, at the New Year.
This would be the first year in a long time that she had no offspring taking part in the parade in some fashion. Ryan had played tuba in the high-school band, Amber belonged to a clown group from the time she was twelve, and Jennifer had been a member of the high-school drill team. For years Kit helped with uniforms and grease paint, always assisting whichever group she was mothering at the moment, then driving farther down the parade route and joining the cheering section before helping again at the end.
“Another milestone.” She took in a deep breath to calm the tension zinging out to her fingertips and buzzing the backs of her eyes. Back in the early days, before his job took him on the road so much, Mark had helped build floats or booths or whatever needed a man—or anyone for that matter—who was good with a hammer. Glue gun had been her specialty, so the both of them were in high demand. Ah, Mark, where are you? How are you? Are you thinking about the hometown parade? You could come home, you know. Like a shooting star, hope flared and died when she saw the still-empty driveway. Missy met her at the door, demanding attention. After pats and ear rubs, she fled out the door into the backyard.
Kit set to making the pies she had promised for their church women's booth, storing three rhubarb and two apple in the freezer and baking crusts for both chocolate and lemon meringue. She'd bake the frozen ones the morning of the festival, since she didn't need to be at the parade at sunrise or thereabouts.
Three days later Kit rearranged her clothes after suffering through her yearly mammogram. Her chest still stung from being smashed between the two cold plates. She turned as the technician nurse reappeared and hung the films on the viewer.
“So, Marcy, how am I doing?”
“Clear as far as I can see. Doctor will have to read them to be sure.” The woman with dark hair, cut cap-style, smiled over her shoulder. “You have been doing self-exams, right?”
“Yes, I do. Thank goodness, I'm done with this for another year.” Kit finished buttoning
SEVEN
“It wasn't so bad after all, was it?”
Teza lifted one shoulder in the way she had of disparaging something that was said. “Just took time away from the important things, that's all.” She slid from the car and bent back down to look in again. “You've got your mammogram scheduled for Monday. See how much you like it.” She shut the door and stepped back, waving Kit out of the yard and down the lane to the road.
“Always has to have the last word. Always.” Kit watched her aunt through the rearview mirror. And no, she was not looking forward to it either, but duty called. Besides she had to live up to her own word. “Oh, chicken feathers.” She thumped the heel of one hand on the steering wheel. “I forgot to ask her about the picnic.” The Fourth of July celebration was only four days away, and Jefferson City went all out to have an old-fashioned celebration, not only patriotic but reminiscent of the early years of the city, now well over a hundred years old. People dressed in period clothing, mosdy turn-of-the-twentieth-century, and rode in antique cars, horses and buggies, and big-wheeled cycles. The parade could be counted on to bring in entrants from all over Jefferson County and those surrounding it. As far as local folks were concerned, the Fourth of July parade equaled the Daffodil parade in Tacoma in the spring or the Rose Parade in Pasadena, California, at the New Year.
This would be the first year in a long time that she had no offspring taking part in the parade in some fashion. Ryan had played tuba in the high-school band, Amber belonged to a clown group from the time she was twelve, and Jennifer had been a member of the high-school drill team. For years Kit helped with uniforms and grease paint, always assisting whichever group she was mothering at the moment, then driving farther down the parade route and joining the cheering section before helping again at the end.
“Another milestone.” She took in a deep breath to calm the tension zinging out to her fingertips and buzzing the backs of her eyes. Back in the early days, before his job took him on the road so much, Mark had helped build floats or booths or whatever needed a man—or anyone for that matter—who was good with a hammer. Glue gun had been her specialty, so the both of them were in high demand. Ah, Mark, where are you? How are you? Are you thinking about the hometown parade? You could come home, you know. Like a shooting star, hope flared and died when she saw the still-empty driveway. Missy met her at the door, demanding attention. After pats and ear rubs, she fled out the door into the backyard.
Kit set to making the pies she had promised for their church women's booth, storing three rhubarb and two apple in the freezer and baking crusts for both chocolate and lemon meringue. She'd bake the frozen ones the morning of the festival, since she didn't need to be at the parade at sunrise or thereabouts.
Three days later Kit rearranged her clothes after suffering through her yearly mammogram. Her chest still stung from being smashed between the two cold plates. She turned as the technician nurse reappeared and hung the films on the viewer.
“So, Marcy, how am I doing?”
“Clear as far as I can see. Doctor will have to read them to be sure.” The woman with dark hair, cut cap-style, smiled over her shoulder. “You have been doing self-exams, right?”
“Yes, I do. Thank goodness, I'm done with this for another year.” Kit finished buttoning
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