Deborah Smith - The Crossroads Cafe by The Crossroads Cafe

Author:The Crossroads Cafe
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-12-08T01:05:54.622000+00:00

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Chapter 16

Cathy

At Delta's House That Night

I woke in the dark, humiliated but starving, fixated on the scents of cornbread and beef stew somewhere in Delta's house. On the pine chest of Delta's guest room an antique clock chimed ten times.

Ten o'clock? Had I been sound asleep since late afternoon? After my spewing debut Delta had carted me to her house quickly, insisted I down several teaspoons of some homemade stomach remedy she called "herbal butter," then gave me clean clothes and steered me to bed. All I remembered was hearing one of my own delicate snores before I fell asleep.

Now I reluctantly pushed aside the soft caress of a flannel sheet and an aged quilt pieced from dresses Delta's grandmothers had owned when gas cost twenty-five cents a gallon and every civilized flapper wore a bell-shaped cloche hat pulled so low over her brow she had to tilt her head back to see. If I weren't starving I might have stayed in that heirloom cocoon for the next several years.

I shuffled into a softly lit hallway, trying to ignore the fact I was dressed in tube socks, flannel pajama bottoms that didn't quite reach my ankles, and one of the café's logo sweatshirts. The Lard Cooks In Mysterious Ways, its slogan said in big pink script. I smoothed my hair over the scarred side of my face, cleared my throat to see if anyone responded, and when no one did I padded toward the back of the house, where I vaguely recalled seeing a big, lovable kitchen. As I passed an open bedroom door I peeked into its shadows. Cora and Ivy snuggled in a double bed under quilts. Two housecats snuggled with them.

"Sleep the sleep of innocence restored," I whispered. I felt maternal and amazingly profound.

I found the kitchen and stood just outside the entrance, an archway lined with family photos, while I watched Delta at the stove. She hummed as she worked. How could someone be so happy about the simple task of making a meal?

There are people nobody notices, but the world revolves around them. They're the quiet ones, the strong, peaceful ones, who form the unbreakable hub for a bunch of fragile spokes. True families aren't bred, they're spun together. And at their center, at the center of the infinite wheel of every family of every kind, blood or otherwise, there is a hub, that person, those people, who hold the wheel together and keep it turning.

Once upon a time I'd thought I was a hub simply because I paid a lot of people to orbit around me. Now I made a soft, mournful sound at the truth: I wasn't even an outer moon of a forgotten sun. Delta turned quickly from her stove. "Why, our newest Crossroads resident is awake and lookin' pink again," she said kindly.

"I really put on a show today, didn't I?"

"Yep. You're a legend, already. I mean it. I told Thomas so. Legends don't have to be perfect. In fact, the more warts they have, the better.

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