Laura stared out the window from where she sprawled in the rocking chair, not caring that curtains blocked the view. One leg was carelessly thrown over the hard wooden edge, exposing a run in her pantyhose. Her shoeless foot was numb.
Dylan had made the chair for her before he deployed. A promise, he’d said, his grin shining white teeth bright against the dark stubble he always grew while on leave.
The house was cold, belying the bright sunlight that seeped around the edges of the window, bright halo against neutral paint. So cold, too empty, a house where silence now reigned.
There had been voices in the background at first, voices she ignored. Voices that insisted she do things, bringing food she ignored.
Silence broken only when Laura was forced to move, wooden rockers creaking against the floor. A wooden laminate floor Dylan had installed. Another promise, this one tied to kissable lips and laughter as they’d pushed aside the tools and –
A tear escaped down her face, a soundless sob wracking her stiff body, jolting at the pain. Laura hadn’t let go of the soft triangle, heavy folded cloth since they’d handed it to her. She could feel the seams of the flag pressing against her stomach through her thin black dress. She hugged it closer.
A grateful nation, the anonymous face above the gloves had said. She’d heard broken promises, flinched away from offers of assistance.
The door opened behind her. She wrapped her body around the flag and hoped whoever was here to bother her would go away. Like her husband had, gone a month before returning in the most dreaded manner possible, the door to this house opening on practiced, uniformed condolences.
“Enough of this.” Sharp words to meet sharp noises, her mother-in-law’s heels clicking firmly against the wooden floor. A pointed nose and a grey bun greeted Laura’s uncaring gaze.
“Artemesia.” Her voice was hoarse, strained from internal screaming. She watched with dull eyes as the woman sat primly on the couch.
“You aren’t the only one, you know.”
“I know.” Laura turned her head back to the window. She couldn’t find the energy to tell Dylan’s mother to go away.
“I brought you something.”
She didn’t move. “I’ll look at it later.”
“No,” Artemesia said. There was steel behind that single word. “Tomorrow I leave. Today you look at this.”
Her foot dropped down to the floor with a thump. “What is it?”
Thin, speckled hands pushed a worn, stained book into her lap. “I never shared his favorite cookie recipe. The one I always sent when he deployed.”
Shuddering, Laura tried to push the book back into her mother-in-law’s hands, the cover hard against her fingers. “No. You wouldn’t share when it mattered.”
“A mother’s right.” The words dropped harshly in the dim room.
“Why didn’t you just tell me which cookbook?”
A sad smile. “I made edits.”
The book sat there, taunting her with memories of Thanksgiving. She hadn’t known it was possible to resent a cookbook before, but Laura knew now. The rage caught in her swollen throat.
“I’ve marked the page,” Artemesia said.
Laura stared at the cover’s white and red letters without reading them, tracing the edge of the cover with a single cold finger. She gulped a breath as she opened the book. Vanilla sugar wafted up as she flipped through the pages.
Between the pages of the old recipe book rested a patch that made her fingers reluctant to move. The stripes she and Artemesia had been supposed to pin on Dylan’s uniform when he returned. The ingredients list and instructions were heavily marked with half-legible handwriting, notes on adjusting temperature and various additions.
The words blurred as her eyes watered, tears streaking wetly down her face.
“Stains and sugar make the love real,” Artemesia said. “You think I can’t tell you have more than yourself to care for now? I want my grandchild to know their daddy. Even if it’s only through his favorite treat.”
***
I’m exploring social media again. Find me on Facebook here, if you’re so inclined.
This week on Odd Prompts, Cedar Sanderson asked me to identify what was between the pages of the recipe book. I challenged Leigh Kimmel to explain the cancellation of dragon season.
Ah… so much pain. That’s powerful.