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Chapter Six
“Let me get it, Mama,” Jill said, jumping to her feet. Thankfully, she’d figured out how to lay off the chips and ice cream in the past couple of weeks, and with all her work on the ranch, she’d lost the five pounds she’d gained. She wouldn’t lose any more, she knew that. Jill had come to simply accept the extra twenty pounds she carried, and if she were being honest, it was probably thirty.
She bustled into the kitchen where she’d grown up, though her mother had redone it several times since then. Mama couldn’t stand sitting still, and she replaced furniture before it could even be deemed slightly used. The walls in here had been painted light gray, and the cabinets white. Daddy had put new hardware on the cabinets in the shape of roosters, tractors, and cowboy hats.
Jill didn’t hate it—the pulls fit the farm where the house sat—she just wouldn’t want them in her kitchen.
She stood at the sink and filled a glass with water, then added ice cubes to it from the tray in the freezer. “You guys need to get a new fridge,” she said as she took the ice water to Mama. “That ice machine has been broken for years.”
“But the fridge still works,” Mama said, her smile thin and her eyes a bit too watery for Jill’s liking. She supposed that her mother had just woken up, and she needed a few minutes to come back to full life.
“We just put stuff in there to get cold,” she said, sipping her water a moment later. “There’s bottled water in there that’s more pH balanced.”
“Oh, I’ll get it.” Jill got to her feet again.
“This is fine,” her mom said, almost yelling the words. “Sit down, Jilly.” Her smile broadened then, and Jill did what Mama said. She reached up and stroked Jill’s hair. “I love this short cut on you,” she said. “When my hair grows back in, I’m going to do something funky like that.”
Jill smiled, her heartbeat barely squeezing through her veins. “Not going to grow it out, huh?”
“Heavens, no,” Mama said with a light laugh. “I’m going to stop coloring it too. It’s time to embrace the silver.”
“Hey, I know women my age trying to get their hair the color of yours,” Jill said.
Mama laughed then, and she hadn’t lost any of her spunk. “Hand me that magazine, would you?”
Jill picked up theCountry Livingmagazine on the coffee table in front of the couch where Mama had taken her afternoon nap. She’d been right tuckered out from a busy morning with Haven and her family, and then lunch with everyone. Daddy said she napped most afternoons, and Jill had volunteered to stay with her so Daddy could go get things done around the farm that needed doing.
McKenna and her boyfriend, Reece, had gone with him.
“There’s this new peach pie recipe I want to try,” Mama said. “Will you help me?” She flipped to a page in the back of the magazine, where a picture of a delectable peach pie gleamed.
“If I help, it’s not going to look like that,” Jill said.
“Nonsense,” Mama said, which was what she always said when Jill claimed not to have inherited her culinary skills. Haven had, of course. Haven had the long, beautiful blonde hair too. Jill had only told one person why she’d cut her hair—Hannah—but it was to show that hair could be beautiful short too. Haven had brought her two kids to the farm that morning, and they’d brought Mama flowers from their garden and cards they’d made.
Jill had only had herself to bring, though she had stopped for the loaf of French bread her mother wanted to serve with dinner.
Jill rose with her mom and steadied her until she wasn’t wobbling on her feet. She moved into the kitchen, only straightening fully after four or five steps. Jill hated seeing the age in Mama’s stature, in the way she sighed as she reached to open the cupboard above the stove, and the way her hair had started to grow back in gray. It was wispy too, barely the fuzz on a baby chick.
“Get out the flour now,” Mama said, and Jill followed her directions. Mama put the pie dough together before she grew too tired to keep standing. “Wrap it in plastic wrap,” she said as she moved to the kitchen table and lowered herself into a seat. “Put it in the fridge. Then we’ll get the filling made.”
“How’s the ranch?” Mama asked, and Jill concentrated on slicing the peaches while she talked. She told her mom about the honeybees, which brought a glow to Mama’s face. “Oh, and Jess got married a couple of weeks ago. Remember that blue dress I showed you?”
“Of course,” Mama said, her voice vibrant though her face looked gray and a bit sunken. “Make sure you add the lemon zest to those peaches, dear.”
Jill did and returned her attention to the recipe. Brown sugar, sugar, and cornstarch.
“You’re gonna let those peaches sit now,” Mama said.
“Yep,” Jill said, wondering how her mother knew exactly what the recipe said. She’d probably read it a hundred times while lying on the couch, and Jill’s heart went out to her mom. “Anyway, the wedding was beautiful. They had this huge pergola that kept everything in the shade, and all these ribbons, and fabric, and lights.” Jill sighed. “Jess rode her horse—her big dream, you know?—and now they’re on a cruise. Well.” She stirred the peaches and the sugars together. “It ended yesterday, but they’re not back yet.”
“Are they livin’ at the ranch?” Mama asked.
“No, Dallas has a nice house in town,” Jill said, returning to the recipe. Cinnamon and nutmeg, though she couldn’t do much until the peaches had released some of their juice. She got out the spices anyway and measured out what she needed.
“Are you gonna get married here at the farm?” Mama asked.
Jill dropped her teaspoons. “I…I’m not even really seeing anyone.”
