Chapter VI: Cookie Dough and Wisdom

Jaci woke up in bed earlier than she would have liked. It was still dark outside and the rooster wasn’t making his usual racket outside. Rubbing her eyes, she reached for her phone on the nightstand to check the time. The brightness of her phone screen temporarily blinded her but she managed to see the time. 3:39. She dropped her phone onto the nightstand and rolled back over with a sigh. Why was she awake right now?

She was aware that her body was hurting. Her ribs felts like they were on fire and her

back and shoulders hadn’t hurt her this bad in a long time. She sat up in bed, rolling her shoulders back and then forwards, massaging her arms. Her eyes were beginning to grow heavy so she dropped back onto the bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin. She curled up in the fetal position, arms tucked in against herself and her knees brought up to her chest. She was tired, her body that is, but her brain was wide awake, not wanting to go to sleep.

She closed her eyes and tried to stay still knowing that her mind would eventually calm down. She drifted off, at what point she didn’t know, but she slept. When she awoke the next time, the sun was already high in the sky.

Stretching, she once more looked at the time on her phone. 10:46. She sat up in bed,

her body protesting. How had she slept this late? How had that stupid rooster not woken her up?

She tossed her blankets to the side and swung her feet off the bed, standing up the moment her feet hit the ground. She quickly changed and headed down to the kitchen. Her grandpa sat at the table, coffee mug in his hand.

“She’s up!” he called into the living room. To Jaci, he said, “There’s some bacon and

eggs in the fridge and there might be a pancake or two.”

Is there any cereal? Jaci spelled out on her phone. She didn’t really want bacon, eggs, and pancakes at ten in the morning.

“Ah, yeah,” he stood up and walked to the cabinet by the fridge. Opening it, he pulled out a box of cereal and set it on the table. “I’m assuming you know where the bowls are?”

She nodded. Yes.

“Okay, well, I’ve got to get over to Sawyers. Promised him I’d help him shear his sheep,” he said, walking towards the door. “MeMa was going to weed the garden today so maybe you could help her?”

She nodded again as she pulled a bowl out of the cupboard. She wasn’t really hungry so she poured a smaller bowl of cereal and poured milk on it. Sitting down at the table, she studied the newspaper as she ate.

As soon as she was done, she washed her bowl out and went to find her grandmother.

When are we going to weed? She asked.

“We’re going to start now. We’re going to work on the back of the house where the sun isn’t and then on the front of the house in the afternoon,” MeMa answered. “Thomas and Mike are coming to help. They’re good workers.”

Jaci nodded, stepping back and out of the living room. She remembered last night and her breakdown. Would Thomas think any less of her for that? She tried not to think about it as she wiped off the table and counters in the kitchen.

There was a knock on the door before it opened and Thomas and Mike walked in. Mike instantly went to the little jar on the edge of the counter, pulling out two or three chocolate chip cookies. Thomas pulled a chair out from the table and swung a leg over it, stradling it backwards.

While Mike was preoccupied, Thomas spoke. “Are you okay?”

Jaci nodded, shaking the rag out over the sink.

He was silent for a moment. “If you want to talk about something anytime, you can let me know.”

Jaci nodded again, sitting down at the table. She pulled her phone out and typed out a response. I normally don’t do that.

“What? Cry?” Thomas asked. “It’s okay to cry. When I lost my father, I cried a lot.”

I don’t cry in front of people. Crying is a sign of weakness.

“I guess that means you trust me, right?” he said, reading between the lines. As much as Jaci didn’t want to admit it, he was right. She had kind of trusted him. He was like that. He was approachable, he was a good listener, he… was nice.

She nodded. Maybe.

Jaci’s attention was diverted when Mike tapped her on the shoulder. He looked nothing like Thomas which was kind of funny seeing they were brothers. He had brown hair that got darker towards the tips. He had bright blue eyes and a rounded face that made him look like an innocent little boy. As she looked at him, he pointed down at the cookies in his hand and then at Jaci, moving his hands in a stirring motion.

She looked at Thomas for help.

“He wants to know if you make cookies,” he related.

She nodded. Kind of.

Thomas related her answer.

The little boy nodded, smiling. As he did so, little dimples appeared. Jaci smiled.

Mike tapped his throat, right above his voice box and then shook his head at Jaci.

“He wants to know if you can talk or not,” Thomas said to her. To the little boy, he answered, “No, she’s like you.”

Jaci looked at the little boy who was giving her a weird look and then over at Thomas.

What’s that about? She asked.

He smiled. “He’s just confused.”

MeMa walked into the room right then, ending the conversation. She grinned when she saw the little boy with several cookies in his hand.

“You better hurry up and finish those ’cause we got some work to do,” she said, heading for the door.

Thomas stood up and swung the chair around, pushing back up to the table. Jaci stood up and hung the rag up, shutting the dishwater door on the way out. Mike stuffed the last cookie into his mouth and jogged for the door, cutting in front of Thomas and hugging onto the hem of MeMa’s shirt.

They followed the older woman around to the back of the house where she began to instruct them on where to start and what to pull.

“Okay, we’re going to start right here. Anywhere you see something green like clover or grass comin’ up, just go ahead and pull it up,” she instructed. “Mike, I’ve got a special job for you--.”

*******

Jaci washed her hands in the kitchen sink, scrubbing at the dirt under her fingernails. Turning the water off, she dried her hands with a paper towel and dried up the little drops of water that had splattered around the sink.

Thank you. She told the middle aged woman.

The woman, Thomas’ mother, nodded, smiling. Her son, Mike was almost identical to his mother. She had the same light to dark brown hair that he did along with the same shattering blue eyes. The only thing that was different was that she had sharper features, more like Thomas. Her cheekbones where more visible and her jaw was more squared. At first glance you would think she was a colder person but the longer you looked, the softer her facial features became. Her blue eyes seemed to radiate happiness and joy.

“It’s nice that Thomas has a friend,” the woman began. “He doesn’t have a lot these days. He did before his father died but after that, he kind of distanced himself from everyone including me.”

Jaci frowned slightly. But he’s a very friendly person.

“Oh, yes, he is,” she smiled. “He takes after his father the most. His father was always a more outgoing person while I am a more reserved person until you get to know me.”

Ms. Glowe, what happened to your husband? She asked.

“Oh, you can call me GiGi,” she smiled. “No need to be formal. Oh, my husband worked in a mine just a couple hours from here. His job was to place the charges and then get out of there but one day, as he was leavin’ one of the charges slipped and I guess he went back to fix it. But, they set it off before he got to it and it caused a cave in, burying him.”

Her bright blue eyes, which had looked like a calm blue sea earlier, turned to a murky grey color, sadness making them look like a raging sea. They were only like that for a second before they went back to their usual light hearted blue.

“But, I know he’s in heaven and I know I’ll see him again on day. It’s just been hard on the boys,” she sighed, stirring the batter before her absentmindedly.

I’m sorry to hear that. Jaci said.

“Oh, don’t be!” she waved it off. “I know a lot of people feel like it’s polite to say they're sorry and what not but a lot of people just say it because it’s polite. I’m not saying that’s why you did it but… I feel like saying sorry doesn’t fix it or make it better.”

Jaci’s eyes clouded over for a second, the thought of the accident coming to mind. The person that’d hit her had sad sorry but it hadn’t fixed anything or made anything better.

I know what you mean. She nodded. When I got injured, the person that hurt me kept saying how sorry they were but it didn’t change the fact that I’d never be me again.

GiGi nodded. “That’s true. But you not being you is your own decision. The accident was - and don’t take this the wrong way- a way to open your eyes to the option of change. Maybe you needed to change, maybe you needed to look at yourself and realize there were some things that needed to be taken care of.”

Jaci nodded, leaning her hip up against the counter. That makes sense. I’ve never looked at it like that. I’ve always looked at it like a curse, a disaster.

“That’s how I saw my husband’s death for a while. Like God wasn’t looking after me anymore. Like I’d fallen to the wayside and done something to deserve it.”

Jaci nodded, watching as the woman molded cookie dough into medium sized balls and placed them on the cookie sheet.

“I’m not going to lie. I was bitter at God for a little bit,” she continued. “For several months, I held a grudge against Him, blaming it on Him. I watched if affect my children, my bitterness that is, and realized that if I didn’t change me, I wouldn’t be able to help them get through their grief.”

How’d you get through yours? Jaci asked.

GiGi stopped molding cookie dough and looked at her. “Jaci, I think you just need someone to talk too. Someone that’s going to listen and help you grow to be a different and better person. Your grandmother helped me through my grief so I could begin to help my children through theirs.”

Jaci looked down at her feet and then up at the woman. Yeah, maybe I do just need to talk to someone.

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.

-Mother Teresa