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Kitty had been so excited about her visit from Ricky (aka Prince Charming) that it was after 9:30 by the time she finally fell asleep.
Susannah was behind on just about everything — the laundry, the dishes, the grocery list she was supposed to pass on to Derek.
She staggered her way into the kitchen, groaning inwardly at the sight of all the dirty plates and bowls. When was the last time she’d cleaned up after herself?
She still didn’t understand how her mom had managed to cook three nutritious meals a day and still keep up on all of Kitty’s care and the other chores around the house. Just making herself a simple pot of soup could throw off Susannah’s schedule for a week.
Well, Lord, I never claimed to be perfect. I guess this is just one area where you’ll have to keep on teaching me how to improve and until then, help me show myself some grace.
She stared at the huge platter of cookies Ricky had dropped off and wondered if his mom remembered that Kitty couldn’t handle any foods besides her formula. Oh, well. It looked festive, and she could share some with Derek tomorrow when he dropped off the next batch of groceries.
She took out a pecan shortbread cookie and nibbled around the buttery edges. Once she got the dishes clean, she’d treat herself to another. Her enthusiasm lasted about two seconds. It could take hours just to catch up on the kitchen, and she’d still be behind on every other part of the house.
God, I’m sorry I didn’t help Mom out more when she was alive. I’m sorry I took her for granted all those years.
She left the light on over the sink — an optimistic symbol of her plans to return to cleaning — and made her way to her computer. She’d been so busy she hadn’t checked her email in a week or more.
Not that she expected to hear from anybody in particular.
She waited for the desktop to start up. It was an old hand-me-down from Derek and took ten minutes just to load. Still, it was better than nothing. Her mom had been fairly suspicious of the internet, so Susannah had never gotten involved in social media or online shopping or anything like that. Right now, all she wanted was a reason to procrastinate. An excuse to forget about the dirty kitchen, the endless pile of dishes, those countless other chores she hadn’t done today and might not get to tomorrow either.
When her inbox finally loaded, it told her what she already knew. No messages.
It was her own fault. She’d been clear in her last email to Scott that she didn’t think they should communicate any more.
At all.
Still, sometimes she wondered how she’d react to finding a note from him. Something like Hi, how are you doing, merry Christmas, do you still want to marry me?
She shook her head. Her mom had spent sixteen years as a single parent before she met Derek, and she never complained. Never pined away for some stranger on the other side of the country.
God, I know I worry as much as my mother, but I wish you would have let me inherit some of her positive qualities too, like her patience.
The nights were the hardest, with Kitty already asleep and Susannah too restless to go to bed but too exhausted to tackle the chores that kept piling higher and higher. Cold winter nights, seemingly endless.
She could email him. It wouldn’t take more than two or three minutes. Hi Scott, it’s me. Just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. I hope you’re doing well.
What could it hurt?
She opened up a new message but stopped herself before her fingers even found their place on the keyboard. No. Resuming their relationship, no matter how casually it started out, would only make it that much harder for them both to move on. And that’s what Susannah needed to do. Move on.
Instead of writing him, she sent a quick email to Ricky and his mom thanking them both for the Christmas cookies. Nobody else from church had thought to do anything like that. The way some people treated her now, it was as if her mom had never existed. Never served on the hospitality committee at Orchard Grove for decades, never organized all those meal trains for new mothers or church members recovering from surgeries.
Maybe it was easier for the women of Orchard Grove to ignore the past, but Susannah never could. Her mom had done so much for others, and now she was purged from memory when she’d only been dead four months.
I’m sorry for grumbling, Lord. Please forgive me.
After expressing her gratitude to the Fields, she made her way back to the kitchen. She’d given up trying to convince herself to get anything clean before tomorrow. Now she just had to turn off the lights, lock herself in, and call it a night. As she reached for the light switch near the sink, a Ziploc bag behind the microwave caught her attention.
She sighed. All that work and she’d completely forgotten about the starter mix she made earlier in the week. Cringing slightly at what she knew was coming, she opened the bag. She didn’t even have to get her nose close to know it was rancid. Using significantly more force than necessary, she heaved it in the direction of the trash can and missed. Moldy starter landed on the floor, the cupboard, and the fridge.
She sank to her knees, too tired to even grab a rag. She used the old Ziploc to smear up as much of the mess as she could and made her way to bed. She’d clean up the rest tomorrow.
By the time she reached her room, tears of loneliness and frustration and hot, inexplicable anger poured down her cheeks and splashed onto the cluttered floor beneath her.