Swimming in the Deep End by Christina Suzann Nelson

Author:Christina Suzann Nelson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kregel Publications
Published: 2018-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

JILLIAN

The yeasty scent of fresh-baked bread saturates the air. I’ve always found comfort in the kitchen, mixing yeast, flour, and sugar with whatever ingredients the recipe calls for and turning the solitary items into something more than the sum of each one. It feels hopeful.

Bread. That’s the solution I pull out when life is feeling hopeless and out of control. I’ve made a lot of bread over the last couple months.

I tap Zachary’s door, then push it open. His head is curled to the side of his Transformers pillow, his arm in a cast rests on top of his stomach. Garrett brought the little television into his room and the old version of Superman plays on the screen while he sleeps.

Leaning over him, I take in the sweetness of this child. His dark hair clings to the moisture on his sweaty head. I brush my thumb over his cheek then pull a fleece blanket up to his chest. Broken bones and scrapes heal, but what about broken hearts? They seem to ache forever.

Shutting the door, I leave him to sleep with the sounds of a superhero saving the world, as if it’s that easy.

In the kitchen I beat my fist into another bowl of dough. The doorbell rings. “Just a minute.” I rub my hands clean on a kitchen towel then, without considering who could be on the other side, I open the door.

Three of Izzy’s closest friends stand on the step. “Hey, Mrs. Cline. Is Izzy home?”

I’m slammed like the dough I’ve been taking my pain out on. “She didn’t tell you?”

Leslie strokes her long braid. “I send her texts and snaps every day, but she never responds. We were hoping we could convince her to go to a movie with us.”

“I’m sorry. Izzy’s out of town.” Did my voice just shake? Can they see my struggle and fight for the right words? “She’s visiting my Aunt Frieda. She lives up north. She needs help. Not in good health.”

With a flood of questions only teenage girls can produce, they swamp me. “When will she be back?” Leslie asks.

“Not … well, she’s got the summer swimming thing. She’ll be gone until next fall. I’m sure she’ll write, or text, or email, or something. You know. She needs some time to get back on her feet. Helping my aunt will be good for her. I’ll let her know you came by, okay?”

Before I can dig myself further into this endless pit, I close the door and press my back against its smooth surface.

“What are you doing?”

I whip around.

Garrett’s jaw is a strong line, his arms are crossed and his biceps bulge.

“Some girls came by for Izzy.”

“Jillian. I heard it all. What do you think you’re doing with that ridiculous story?”

I cross my own arms and set my own jaw. “I’m doing what I have to do. Do you think it’s better for Izzy to come home to a town full of gossip?”

“They may just notice the baby in her arms. Our granddaughter.

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