Page 77 of Share with Me

Chapter Twenty-Five

Brinley wokeup with the sun when the beams beat down on her covers. From her brother Dillon’s bed, she watched two—no, three, but no more—brown pelicans fly by. Over many summers in her childhood, she used to see flocks of them flying up and down the Atlantic coast. These days if Brinley saw a few flying together, it was yet another sign of progress in recovering the species.

She plopped her feet on the heated hardwood floor in the bedroom, smaller than hers next door now occupied by Aunt Ella. Brinley had locked all the doors and windows and had warned her to stay put. The nurse would be coming in at ten to administer Aunt Ella’s medications. Then it was up to Brinley to take care of her until Aunt Ella’s caregiver returned from her own Christmas break.

Brinley brushed her teeth and showered quickly. She threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. She peeked into her old bedroom to find Aunt Ella still asleep. Good. She was concerned she had run away again.

She padded downstairs to forage for breakfast. Before she could even reach the kitchen, she smelled the fragrant aroma of pancakes. She quickened her steps.

“Cara! What are you doing here?” Brinley gave the housekeeper a quick hug at Mom’s La Grand Palais 180 range. Mom wanted the best range and hood though she never cooked in her life. In the end it was for Cara’s use and Brinley and her siblings’ benefit.

“I can’t let you eat last week’s frozen food. I brought you some food for the next several days. I’ll bring you some more at the end of the week.”

“Cara, you don’t have to.” Brinley wasn’t sure how to tell her. Didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “I should’ve called you yesterday.”

“About what?” Cara flipped the pancakes.

“I want you to have Christmas and New Year off, Cara. Spend time with your husband and kids and your new grandbaby. So I’m having a personal chef come in twice a week until you come back.”

“A personal chef?” There was some sort of edge to Cara’s voice that Brinley couldn’t make out.

“She’s not taking your place, Cara. She’s going to make sure Aunt Ella and I have food for some of the days we don’t eat out. Then you’ll be back and she’ll be gone.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. And you know I always keep my promise.”

“I know, but it’s no trouble at all for me to drop off a few dishes.”

“Who cooks those dishes?” Brinley opened a cabinet door to retrieve a dinner plate. She placed it on the granite counter next to the stove.

“Well, I do.”

“Exactly. So you’re at home cooking for me when you’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I mind.” Brinley watched Cara place several pancakes on her plate. Her mouth started to water when she smelled the buttermilk.

Yet she wished Cara had not come. “Like right now. Shouldn’t you be having breakfast with your husband?”

“I’ve been here at six o’clock every morning since you were a little kid.”

“Except at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Go home, Cara.”

“Not until I make you pancakes for tomorrow morning.” Cara poured more batter in the pan.

“I hope that God blesses you for your caring spirit, Cara.”

Cara stopped what she was doing. “God? You believe in God now?”

“I don’t have a problem with God. It’s Jesus I can’t get past.” Brinley found organic maple syrup in the refrigerator.

“Do you want that heated up?” Cara asked.

“No time. I’m famished. Do you have coffee?” Brinley sat down on a barstool at the island, poured cold syrup on her hot pancakes, and dug in.

She remembered how Ivan had thanked God for the food, but she wasn’t sure if God would hear her prayers if she did the same. Maybe it had more effect if Ivan or Yun said it instead of her. She’d ask Yun about it this afternoon when they met for tea.

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