Reinventing Leona by Lynne Gentry Page B

head. What time was it and why did she smell turkey? The fuzzy red numbers on her clock said 11:30.
    “Oh no. I’ve slept through Thanksgiving.” She threw back the covers, then crammed her arms into a faded terry robe. She hurried to the stairs as her mother tromped up. “Mother, why didn’t you wake me?”
    “Your kitchen is not big enough for me and that Brewer woman.” Her mother stormed past.
    “What’s going on?” Leona followed her mother down the hall. “Mother?”
    Her mother stepped inside the guest room. “Call me when lunch is ready.” She slammed the door in Leona’s face.
    Leona stared at the closed door. Amazing how the solid wood plank symbolized the barrier that had been between them for years. She could pound away, even try kicking it in, but the secret to what made her mother tick would never be revealed. But the years had taught Leona one thing: her mother was a time bomb with a very short fuse. Lord, just don’t let her blow up here. Not today.
    Laughter filtered through the house and ascended the stairs to combine with the delicious smells escaping from the kitchen. Leona listened, trying to pick out J.D.’s hearty roar among the gathered. But his voice was noticeably absent. Suddenly the upstairs hall seemed crowded with reminders of holidays past, sucking the oxygen from the narrow space. All future family memories were now her lone responsibility. Long, leisurely breakfasts, tables filled with goodies, a house full of company, folding chairs borrowed from the church, eggnog and hymns around the piano, carving the turkey . . . the weight caved Leona’s chest and slumped her shoulders.
    A round of giggles echoed from the kitchen. Resolve snapped Leona’s backbone into place. She swiped the tears from her eyes. Allowing the distance between her and her mother to alienate her from her own kids was not an option. Today she would be thankful. The Harpers had been given another opportunity to build relationships. How many folks would kill for a second chance like the one the Lord had graciously given her? David and Maddie were going to have a good Thanksgiving if she had to string her mother up by her ears on the backyard clothesline. Leona pinched her cheeks to add color, belted her robe, then descended the stairs.
    Roxie looked up from dicing stalks of celery. “I guess Bertie woke you when she lit out for the hills.” She wielded the blade with the skill of a sushi chef. “Look at you all gussied up and nowhere to go.”
    Leona ran a hand across the bump in her hair and pushed some wild strands behind her ears. “I guess the sleepless nights have taken their toll.”
    Maddie turned from the sautéing onions at the stove. A pleased smile lit her face. “Aunt Roxie came early to help me get started.”
    “I see that.” Leona grinned at the sight of her kitchen-shy daughter slaving over a gas flame. Maybe her daughter had absorbed some of her mother’s intensive hospitality training after all.
    Roxie picked up the cutting board and scraped the pile of celery into the sizzling onions. “Baby, I’ll watch the skillet. You pour your momma some coffee. Let’s see if we can’t fortify her with a little holiday cheer.”
    The onion-scented cloud rising from the pan made Leona’s mouth water. “Is that for the dressing?”
    “Girlfriend, don’t think you can weasel Aunt Thelma’s secret stuffing recipe out of me. You know I had to wait years for her to die to inherit it.” Roxie tossed snatches of running conversation over her shoulder as she moved the enticing vegetables around in the skillet. “After you get some caffeine in you, why don’t you hit the shower, clean up a bit before everyone gets here?”
    Leona felt a sudden wave of warmth wash over the cold place J.D.’s unexpected departure had left in her heart. Everything did not have to change. They could go on. Having the people she loved the most in the world helping her make this day happen was like a sign from God