Chapter Twenty-One

There had been another time, long ago, when Susannah had been driven away in a car. She had cried that day too. The girls were high-school juniors, with the promise of the best year of their friendship ahead.

Susannah had just auditioned—and landed—the lead role in Our Town, to be put on by their high school for the whole San Antonio community. Kate had also tried out but didn’t make the cut. She ended up as production manager, a role she realized she was better suited for even though she’d initially been disappointed that she hadn’t landed a part in the play.

Her friend had come a long way from the shy little girl who had moved into the house across the street from Kate.

Susannah was an only child whose parents believed that children should be seen, not heard. They thought of themselves as intellectual. Her father was a biology professor at a small private college, and her mother was a homemaker whose greatest pastime was reading the classics. They both wanted Susannah to fit into their mold of likes and dislikes. Television wasn’t allowed in her family. Neither was any music, except classical.

But Susannah wasn’t anything like her parents. The first day she visited the Blume family, she gaped in wide-eyed wonder.

Games and projects were scattered in every nook and cranny, from jigsaw puzzles to Tinkertoy towns to games like Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders. Against one wall stood an old upright piano with an uncovered keyboard that welcomed anyone to sit down and play.

Margaret Blume, Kate’s mother, taught piano lessons, sang in the church choir, and led the local Brownie troop. She was completely devoted to letting Kate fall in love with all the good things life had to offer. Even as Kate thought back on those years, she pictured her mom as a gently clucking hen who gathered Kate, and any others that came along, holding them close and teaching them about unconditional love through actions, not words.

Scott Blume, Kate’s father, was a big man, quieter than her mother but just as expressive in his love for his family and for God.

Kate’s mother loved to cook, and there was always enough food to feed anyone Kate might bring to the dinner table.

Kate still remembered the day her mother noticed a shy little Susannah watching her with big eyes as she fixed the sauce for a pot of spaghetti. She pulled up a chair for Kate to watch, then grabbed a kitchen chair, stood Susannah on the top, and put a wooden spoon in her hand. “You’ll just need to stir so it doesn’t stick,” she said.

“That’s too hard.” The seven-year-old frowned with worry. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Cooking is easy if you just follow directions. Just one step at a time, just one ingredient at a time. When the meat is a nice golden brown, we’ll add some salt and pepper.” She then let a grinning Susannah sprinkle the shakers over the mixture.

Kate’s mother took a little spoonful out and placed it in a small dish with a spoon. “Now taste this and see if it needs anything.” It was obvious Susannah had never been assigned such a task before. She blinked, looking uncertain. Margaret laughed. “Like more salt maybe?”

Susannah scrunched her face as she put a spoonful of the crumbled hamburger into her mouth. Then she closed her eyes, taking Margaret’s directions very seriously. “Mmm,” she finally said. “It’s good.”

“No more salt then?”

“No.” Susannah blinked as if she couldn’t believe someone actually accepted her opinion.

“How about pepper?”

Susannah tasted again. “Yes,” she said, obviously getting into the spirit of what needed to be done. “It needs more pepper.”

“All right, now,” Kate’s mother said seriously. “Next you’ll need to make the sauce.”

“Me? By myself?”

“Of course. I’ll open the cans of tomato sauce, and you can pour them into the pan when you think the hamburger is golden brown.”

Susannah did as instructed, every once in a while sneaking a peek at Kate to see if she was watching. Next, Margaret put some little red and white tins on the counter by the stove.

“Have you ever heard of oregano?”

Susannah shook her head.

“Smell this. It’s something you’ll use a lot when you’re cooking, especially Italian food.” She placed measuring spoons on the counter within reach of the child standing on the chair in front of the stove.

“This is Italian food?” Susannah’s eyes widened. “Real Italian food?” She took a whiff of the oregano and laughed. “It smells good.”

“Yes, it is, though real Italians could probably show us an even better way to make it.”

“I don’t think it could ever be better than this,” Susannah said, her eyes shining.

“And now some thyme,” Margaret said, handing the tin to Susannah to sniff. “And rosemary...and sweet basil...and a bay leaf, crumbled just so.”

Susannah’s reaction was the same with each new ingredient. Her hand shook with excitement as she carefully measured a spoonful of each ingredient and sprinkled it into the meat mixture. It was as if Margaret was opening a brand-new world to the child, a world Susannah had no idea existed until she stepped inside the Blume house.

As Kate thought back on that day, watching her mother gather the lonely little girl from the sterile house across the street into her arms, she remembered the fragrance of the kitchen as Susannah put all the ingredients together to make her first pasta sauce. She remembered hearing somewhere that smells can bring back memories faster than any other sense.

But as she remembered the wonderful aroma of spices and herbs, of tomatoes and onions and garlic, it seemed to her that it was also the fragrance of love.

Susannah practically lived at their house from that day on. She confided in Margaret through the awkward growing-up years, even though Kate’s mother tried to help Susannah and her mother build better communication skills.

Then, abruptly, ten years later, on a rainy autumn day, Susannah ran across the street to the Blumes’. She fell into Margaret’s arms, crying.

“We have to move,” she said. “To Atlanta.”

Kate started to cry with her. “You can’t go!”

Susannah pulled back, sniffling. “My dad just got a new teaching job at a university in Atlanta. He and Mom say they’ve been waiting for a long time for an opportunity like this. They say it will change our lives.” She shook her head and reached for the hankie Margaret handed her. “But they never told me.” She looked first at Kate’s mother, then at Kate. “Why didn’t they tell me this could happen? All my plans, the lead role in the play...and it means nothing to them. It’s like...I don’t matter.”

“Maybe you can stay with us,” Kate suggested.

Her mother nodded. “If your parents would allow it, you’d be welcome to live with us so you can finish out the year—or at least finish the semester so you can be in the play.”

But Susannah’s parents said no. They thanked the Blumes for offering, but her mother explained that she and Susannah’s father felt the move would be a growing experience for their daughter. “Hardships can do much to toughen the spirit,” she had said.

Looking back on it, Kate wondered if there had also been some jealousy involved. Maybe Susannah’s mother simply wanted her daughter back.

Just three weeks later, the moving van parked in front of the house, and when the furniture was loaded, Susannah crossed the street one last time. She hugged everyone in the Blume family, saving Kate till last.

“Best friends forever,” she whispered.

Kate tried hard to be brave for Susannah’s sake. She blinked back the sting in her eyes and, clutching Susannah’s hand, whispered, “Best friends forever and ever.”

Susannah’s dad backed out of the garage and beeped his horn.

Susannah crawled into the backseat, and looking at Kate, a tear slid down her cheek, just as it had as she sat in back of the sheriff’s SUV.