A Man's Heart (12 page)

The following Saturday night, Jules came in from the fields and Crystal was dressed to the nines. Jules stepped to the back porch to wash up. “Going somewhere?” Of course she was “going somewhere”; she didn't often wear heels to fix supper.

Jules tripped over a scatter rug and checked her tongue. Crystal's housekeeping hadn't improved. The place was a cluttered mess. Toys littered the floor, Cheerios strung throughout the house, sticky spilt milk spots — black ice, she'd come to think of them, places where someone had tried to ineffectively wipe up the spill, stuck to the heels of her boots.

“I have a date,” her sister called. “And we have the kids tonight.”

You have a date. Great. Thanks for telling me.
The thought of a hot bath and early bed went down the drain. She'd have to give the kids their baths and tuck them into bed.

“With whom?”

“Haute!”

Haute!
She stuck her head around the kitchen opening. “With who?”

“Haute Peterson. You remember him—he used to —”

“I
remember
him. I'm dating him!”

Crystal dropped a fork on the table, her face going blank. “Oh you are not.”

“I am so, Crystal. We went out last Saturday night.”

“Well I'll call and break the date. I understood that he wasn't seeing anyone seriously.”

“We're not
serious.”
By no stretch of the imagination were they serious, but Crystal had no right to hog in on her territory.

“Okay. I'll call him. Sorry.” Crystal poured Ethan a glass of milk.

Jules's conscience cut in. She wasn't romantically interested in Haute Peterson. So why would she object if he went out with Crystal.

Because it's Crystal
.

That is not true. I'd feel that way about any woman—Well, no I wouldn't.

“Fine. We're not serious … but we are dating.”

“It's not a problem. Relax.”

Jules started up the stairs. She never understood Crystal. She leaped before she thought. Just like Mom and Pop, leaping, leaping, and leaping. When she reached the landing, she paused, her temper cooling.
Haute will think you've lost your
mind. You can't let Crystal call and break the date.
That would practically commit her to Haute, and she had no romantic expectations for the man.
Darn it.
She smacked the corner post with her fist. “Crystal?”

“Yes?”

“On the other hand, Haute and I are not a ‘couple.' Go ahead. Have fun.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Stark fear assaulted her. What if Crystal decided to date Cruz …?

She shoved the thought aside. Then she would have to put her foot down.

Sunday morning Jules drove into the church parking lot and searched for an empty space. Her spiritual life had to change. She wasn't sure if God was putting her or Sophie through this ordeal, but she'd been too lenient in her college years about church attendance. She was going to do better. She was going to consider others more often and make church friends. Losing Pop and then watching Sophie's illness had formed a hunger in her to draw closer to God, consult him more often about her life and where it was going.

When she entered the hushed foyer, organ strains already filled the building. The packed rows offered few seating selections, so she picked a vacancy closest to the back. Excusing herself, she made her way down the long row and sat down. When she glanced around, her heart sank. Cruz and Adan sat
a seat away. She'd had to step over their feet when she entered the row.

Soon Jules focused on the music director and sang the praise refrain. From this distance she heard Cruz's baritone, strong and confident. Years dropped away and she was a teenager, sitting beside him during youth activities. He liked to sing but resented the fact that he had a good voice. He was singled out too many times for youth solos, which he detested. Cruz wasn't a man who liked the spotlight, all the more reason Jules's twice humiliation had hit so hard.

During the morning offering, Cruz leaned over and spoke to Adan in a tone loud enough for her to hear. “Hear Crystal and Haute are dating.”

A slow burn started at the nape of Jules's neck. She pretended to read the church bulletin.

Adan shifted. “Yeah? I hadn't heard that.”

Cruz straightened and focused on the organ music. After the offering, the pastor asked that all stand and give their neighbor a handshake. Jules shook the hand of the older woman sitting on her left, then on her right. Cruz stepped around the woman on his right to shake her hand. “Jules! Good to see you here. It's been awhile.”

She calmly shook his hand. “So nice to be here, Mr. Delgado.”

“I was just telling Adan — did you know that Crystal and Haute were dating? Saw them together in Pasco a couple of nights ago.”

She didn't dignify the taunt. Instead, she smiled and shook Adan's hand. “Good to see you, Adan.”

His eyes excused his brother. “Glad you're here, Jules. I didn't like seeing your empty seat.”

The greetings died away and the congregation settled into their seats. Jules was not going to let Cruz's remark upset her. She was here to worship. Biting her lower lip, she lifted her chin and concentrated on the Scripture reading.

Shifting, she crossed her right knee. Moses. Red Sea. God's children, wandering in the wilderness. That's how she felt. Wandering in the wilderness — without a clue of where she was heading. Perhaps if she were more dependent on God and less on her own meager attempts, she wouldn't be so lost. He had to be disappointed in her. He'd sent Cruz, hat-in-hand, twice, and twice she'd backed away. Maybe he wouldn't send another mate the rest of her life. Single wasn't a bad state. She loved the farm, found joy in the fertile earth. God had blessed her. She was content with life.

Leaning slightly back in the pew, she whispered around Adan's shoulder, “Not that it's any of your business, but Haute and I are
not
a couple. Crystal can date anyone she wants.”

Adan glanced at Cruz, whose eyes were fixed on the podium.

Trust God. Have faith that he is in control of all situations.
She was getting all the sermon points.

Cruz leaned back and said from the corner of his mouth, “That's not what I hear. I hear that you see Haute when you're back on vacations.”

Steam rose from the top of her head. She leaned. “Then something's wrong with your hearing.”

“My hearing's fine.”

Drop it, Jules. You're here to worship, not spar.
She cleared her throat and focused on the message. Everything was fine until the reverend got to the part about meekness and humbleness. She leaned. “I said I wasn't dating
him.”

Cruz stiffened. “You're in church. Show some respect.”

“How
dare
you! You started this conversation.”

“I was talking to Adan. Do you mind?”

“Yes. When it involves me.”

Adan intercepted the argument. “Knock it off, you two!” The lady beside him muttered, “Amen to that.”

W
hen Jules entered the shed to check the plant, heat blasted her. This was the hour she most looked forward to in the day, the magic potato's progress.

Every day her enthusiasm and complete awe overwhelmed her, but when she stepped into the moist greenhouse, she frowned. From this distance she could smell the distinct odor of rot. Beneath the lamp her magic potato laid, bluish purple, emitting a foul odor. Crushing disappointment filled her. What happened? Last night the potato was perfect.

Pulling on gloves, she gingerly removed the stink and dropped it into a plastic trash bag.

Crystal appeared in the shed doorway. “Dinner's ready.”

“I'll be there in a minute.”

Holding her nose, her sister entered the shed.
“What
is that stink!”

“You've never smelled a rotted potato before?”

“Many times, but never anything like this.”

Jules did have to admit that she'd created something: the smelliest potato in history. She turned to the four tubs of dirt with the same blooming plant and jerked them out.

Why did you do that?

“I'm trying to grow a perfect potato; not a perfectly obnoxious one.”

“A perfect potato? There isn't such a thing.”

“That's why I'm growing one. I was so close — so close …” She reached into her hybrid mix and changed the formula a third time that week. She recorded the change. The phone rang and Crystal turned to leave. “Good luck.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Jules planted the new mix, sick at heart. The recent experiment had looked so promising. She might have to conclude her thesis by stating the obvious: a mere mortal cannot raise a perfect anything.

Seconds later Crystal appeared in the doorway. “It's Adan.”

Jules glanced up. “what's wrong?”

“Sophie's had some sort of set-back. Adan thinks you need to come.”

“Sophie?” Her pulse skipped a beat. “Tell him I'm on my way.”

The Tracker covered the thirty minutes to Pasco in record time. Pulling into the parking lot, she braked, swung out of the truck and ran to the entrance. Cruz was standing at the elevator.

“what's wrong? Has something happened?”

“She took a turn for the worse early afternoon.”

“But that can't be. I was with her this morning and she was fine.”

He met her gaze. “Come on, Jules. She hasn't been fine since the surgery.”

“But the surgery was successful —”

“And the complications continue. Adan says her vitals have gone nuts.”

They stepped into the elevator and Cruz punched the button. “Let's not borrow trouble until we see what's going on.”

Covering the polished corridors, Jules kept step with Cruz as they headed for Room 326. Adan got to his feet when they entered the hospital room. Sophie had tubes running in every arm, machines beeped. Cruz removed his hat. “What's going on?”

“Her temperature's up; her kidneys are in trouble.”

“How high?”

“103.”

Jules slumped against Cruz and he steadied her. The warmth of his arm felt so natural she leaned into his support. “They can fix that, can't they?”

“They're trying.” Adan stepped aside when a nurse brushed past him.

Jules fumbled in her bag for a tissue. “She was doing so well this morning. What happened?”

“Don't know,” Adan contended. “We were talking and all of a sudden an alarm went off. Nurses came running. Then the doctor. They've been working on her for over an hour.”

Jules glanced at Cruz. “It's a temporary setback, right? This type of thing happens all the time?”

“I don't know, Jules.” Cruz's strained features revealed more than his answer.

Sophie was in trouble.

The three huddled near the doorway, watching the activity, dodging nurses and carts. Finally a nurse ushered them to a small family waiting area. A couple of couches, some chairs. Various sections of the
Tri-City Herald
strung about on tables littered with half empty sodas and cold coffee.