The Scent of Apple Tea

7. Kathryn

Kathryn

7

Kathryn put out the best plates and silver—used only for Tea Time and special occasions—and checked the gluten-free, dairy-free lemon bars in the oven. She had started to wonder if Heather’s fatigue might be caused by a dietary sensitivity. If gluten made her foggy, perhaps dairy did, too. She hoped that Heather wouldn’t have to eliminate more and more foods.

She sat down at the table and let Heather pour her a cup of tea. The lemon bars needed to cool. Tea Time would run a little late.

Heather’s hair was loose today—red and bright. She seemed to be choosing more comfortable clothes lately. Today she wore a black sundress made of soft, stretchy tee shirt-like fabric.

Kathryn had been trying all her usual remedies and tinctures for boosting immune system function on Heather, and even plied her with extra supplements like iron and vitamin D, but it wasn’t seeming to have any effect on Heather’s fatigue. Kathryn frowned. Maybe it was time for Heather to get a blood test done, just to see if they were missing something—the dream from that morning still skittering through her consciousness.

Heather’s round green eyes blinked and crinkled at the edges of her soft smile. Strangely, she looked relaxed that afternoon, rather than tired. The dark shadows under her eyes were minimized by the afternoon sun shining through the dining room windows. Heather sipped her tea and they both waited and smelled the warm lemony steam drifting to their noses.

“It might be nice to have Bailey come over after school a couple of times a month to do a little more work,” Heather said. “She loves coming over and taking care of the rabbits—though she does get too attached to them. I wonder if part of the reason I hate butchering day so much is fearing Bailey’s disapproval and outrage.”

“She even names one or two of them each year. Did you know that?”

“Really?” Heather’s face twisted into a frown of pity. “That’s horrible. Poor Bailey. To have her friends ritually killed off for our eating pleasure. It really is so macabre.”

The sweet smile left and Heather was distressed again.

“I know it bothers you that we aren’t vegetarian,” Kathryn said, “I just don’t think I could do it. Go ahead if you want to, but I’m getting older and settled in my ways. I don’t want to give up my rabbit stew.”

An awkward pause ballooned, and then diffused just as quickly with their laughter.

“That sounded pretty crotchety, didn’t it?” Kathryn said.

Heather reached for the plate of treats.

“Lemon bar, Mama?” Heather’s smile returned.

After finishing off way more lemon bars than was socially acceptable, Heather pushed back from the table and smoothed her dress, making sure there were no crumbs.

“How about I play a little for you today?” she offered.

“I’d love it,” Kathryn said.

Kathryn put the remaining lemon bars in an air-tight container, and wiped down the table. She even hand washed the rest of the dishes, just so she could listen longer.

The twangy and fun yet strangely forlorn sound of Heather’s banjo filled the house and spilled out of the open windows. Kathryn’s shoulders relaxed. Maybe the herbs could hear her, lifting their leaves in salute, twisting to point at the house. In the same way they followed the sun, they could follow Heather’s music.