Page 60 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
I nod and shove a cookie in my mouth to prevent me from asking any questions.
“In this envelope is the deed for the café.”
My eyes go wide, and my heart rate picks up speed. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants to occupy myself.
“I’d been planning on you taking it over, and giving you the deed a while ago. And then Grace came along, and God made it more apparent that it was the right choice. And now…” Her voice quavers, and her eyes turn glassy. “I know my time is coming soon. The to-do list God gave me is just about all complete. Which means it’s time to turn all of the café over to you.”
The whole café? To me? A dry cookie crumb gets stuck in my throat and I cough a few times until it continues on down. “Wha–Why?” I finally whisper.
“You’re going to need a way to provide for that little girl, and this is the perfect way to do it. You’ve got the apartment. You’ve got the café running well in the black. This is what God wants me to do for you.”
I’m still speechless. She’s giving me a café. A way to provide for my child just in case Austin and I never get back together. In case I’m a single mom forever. As my prayer life grows, I’ve begged God to let her be there when–if–Austin and I get back together.
“I’m still praying that God keeps me here long enough that I can see Austin meet his little girl. To see you two back together.” Her smile covers her whole face. “Maybe one of these days you could give him a call, talk it out.” She winks at me. “You’re free, forgiven, and filled. God will give you the courage to reach out, to face this.”
I want those things too. She knows my whole story. All the dirty details. I don't know how I would do this without her support.
A Week Before Christmas
Grace’s hands tangle in my hair and yank hard as I lean over her, attempting to clean off her face after dinner. Her green eyes, the ones that match her dad’s, look at me adoringly, making me think of Austin. Grace’s usually sweet voice changes and her savage yell fills the kitchen. She hates having her face wiped off.
“Just let me clean off your face, and then you can go and play with your uncles.” Grace yells again and yanks my hair even harder in response.
“Mommy isn't so gentle is she? You’d rather have Uncle Rob clean you up, right?” Robert coos at Grace, before turning to me and giving me a cocky grin. I couldn’t ask for better uncles, or grandparents, for Grace. From her birth they’ve all been tripping over each other to help out any chance they can. Mom and Dad have even volunteered to help with diaper changes, and the boys set the limit at burping her.
I gently extract my hair from Grace’s sticky fingers. “Go ahead and try.” I laugh and hand over the wash rag. Of course Grace is a perfect angel for Rob. She giggles and coos at him, pretending as if she wasn’t screaming like a banshee minutes before.
Rob starts taking too long and Grace lets him know that she’s had enough. “Let Uncle Rob finish up, then we can go and play.” He uses a dad voice, and gives her a stern look, causing me to giggle. Grace giggles in return and reaches up and grabs his nose. “No,” He yelps as he tries to back up. But she’s got him, and one of her tiny fingers goes up his nose. “No! No slobbery fingers in my nose.” Grace lets out the biggest belly laugh ever. These are the moments I love the most.
I start collecting all of the dinner dishes so that I can load the dishwasher for Mom. It’s the least I can do since she still feeds me every evening even though I don’t live at home any more. The trip is only thirty minutes, so it’s nothing I can’t handle. And even though it sometimes messes with Grace’s sleep, especially if she falls asleep in the car, I wouldn’t trade these dinners for silence in the apartment.
Grace and I moved back into the apartment over the café a few weeks back. With her just upstairs I can go down and start prepping everything while she continues to sleep. We refuse to miss out on dinners with my family though, and now that Grace is actually eating food it’s made meals quite entertaining.
I won’t lie though, I do miss just breastfeeding her. She was quieter, more content back then. Now she’s constantly demanding more food no matter how much is in front of her. And as soon as the food is gone, she wants out so that she can crawl everywhere. She’s even started pulling herself up, which according to our doctor is right on target for her age. But I’m not ready for the toddler stage. I love that snuggly baby stage.
After loading the dishwasher, I start on the dishes that need to be hand washed. The landline that Mom has refused to give up starts to ring while I’m elbow deep in hot soapy water. I shake the suds off my hands and dry them on a towel before reaching for the phone. The display says that the call is coming from our pastor, Chrissy’s dad.
“Carter residence, Raegan speaking.” I say, using the line I’d been taught to use for answering the phone since I was four.
“Hi, Raegan. It’s Mrs. Thompson. I wanted to give your folks a call and let them know that Ms. Rosa took her first breath in heaven not long ago. I know your mom will want to get a meal over to Coach, so I wanted to let her know right away. I know she was a huge part of your life recently, so I wanted y’all to know first.”
Tears fill my eyes. I can’t believe she’s gone. Her advice, her warm hugs, her genuine smile. Now Jesus gets to experience them.
“Thanks, Mrs. Thompson. I’ll let Mom know.” We say our goodbyes and hang up.
I knew this day was coming. She had prepared me for it the last time we met.
I check to make sure that Rob and Grace are still good in the living room before I head to the barns to find Mom. She’s in the barn where we keep produce when I finally find her. Through sobs, I tell her about the phone call.
Her arms pull me tight in a hug. It reminds me of the one from the night with Austin, and the one she gave me when I got my positive test.Thank you, God, for Mom and Ms. Rosa. For their loving, welcoming, and judgement-free arms. I don’t deserve either of them, but you blessed me.
Things between God and me have slowly gotten better, especially after Ms. Rosa’s free, forgiven, and filled talk.
“I know that she’s got the best view in the world right now,” I finally whisper. “And I know she’s happy, and healthy, but I’m going to miss her down here.”
Mom rests a comforting hand on my cheek. “I know she was a great mentor to you. And she left you such a gift in the café. God knew you’d need a way to support Grace, and even though Ms. Rosa isn’t with us, her memory, and little touches, are all over this town.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. Little voices battle for precedence inside my mind. Why did God have to take both Austin and Ms. Rosa? Why couldn’t He leave at least one of them there for me? I almost allow myself to get angry at God again, but I remember what Ms. Rosa told me.
