15. Kitchen Questions

Dancing at The Orange Peel - Episode 15

Welcome to Episode 15 of Dancing at The Orange Peel, a 1960-70s serialized historical novel. Just getting started? Episode 1 | Full Episode Guide | Extra fun content in THE MAILBAG

Previously: Episode 14, Another Sunday Surprise. Sunday, April 7, 1968. Uncle Dennis's unexpected early arrival from art school brings a wave of joy to the family gathering at Grandmamma and Granddaddy's house, especially for Mama. But beneath the bear hugs and playful nicknames, something feels off about his sudden appearance, and even nine-year-old Libby can sense it.

In this episode: In her mother's familiar kitchen, Gwen finds herself caught between June's relentless matchmaking and Denny's gentle prodding about her happiness.

Episode 15: KITCHEN QUESTIONS

Gwen dipped her hands into the warm, soapy water. The number of dirty dishes that piled up before lunch preparations were even complete always amazed her. As she gazed through the window over the sink, Libby crossed the backyard toward Denny’s car where the menfolk were gathered, all but Denny himself. Even as a boy, he’d preferred the women’s kitchen conversations over the men’s talk about farming and such.

Beside the blue Camaro, her father snapped his head sideways and spat a stream of dark liquid toward the edge of the grass. That nasty habit of his, always making his lips brown and crusty. The Surgeon General had warned about cigarettes but never said a thing about chew. Tobacco had made Jerome Dewitt a good living, though, so her father wasn’t likely to give it up even if they certified it would give him cancer.

Behind her, Denny and their mother supervised June’s lunch preparations. Katie stared out the back door toward Barry. Ah, young love.

“You look tired, Ma,” June said to their mother. “Why don’t you go lie down ’til lunch is ready?”

From her perch on a tall kitchen chair that also served as a stepstool, Leona protested. “I’m perfectly fine sittin’ here.” She stretched her neck to peer beyond Gwen toward the window. “Is Dark Willie watching over the childern?”

“Children, Ma. Not childern.” She shouldn’t correct her mother, but Gwen couldn’t help herself. Outside, William sat on the rock wall at the edge of the yard. “And his name is William.” How many times had she said that? She wrung out the dishrag and draped it across the chrome faucet. “He’s on the wall, whittling. Just like always.”

“June’s right.” Denny pointed to their mother’s swollen feet. “You need to get off those a while.”

Staring at the floor, she said, “Maybe I will rest a spell.”

Katie shook her head, crossed arms on her chest. “You can get her to do anything.”

“Yep.” He slipped a hand into Leona’s armpit to boost her up from the stool. “Always been that way, always will be.”

Shrugging off his help, Leona regarded each of them in turn. “I do what I want and you pesky young’uns don’t have one word to say about it.” Denny saluted and positioned her walker in front of her as she chattered, “I need shuteye, I’ll get shuteye. Call me when lunch is ready.”

They chuckled, and she shuffled down the hallway. Denny returned to his stool. Gwen felt his eyes settle on her. He broke the silence by clapping once, loud. “So!” He gawked at her. “Has my ole sister finally found her a man?”

When he reached to pinch her on the butt, she swung her hips out of reach and swatted his shoulder. “Old?!” His teasing moods both cheered and irritated her. At the very least, they offered a diversion.

“Old. Oldest,” he joshed. June and Katie laughed.

“I am not oldest. Have you forgotten Silvia?” Rarely seen, Sivvy lived near the remote family farm in River County, where they all grew up. She would probably welcome some company out there. Gwen made a mental note to call her to see about Libby visiting during Easter school break. They’d like that. Nate’s face crossed her mind’s eye. They’d all like that.

“Aw, course not. But even Tony joked that Sivvy’s more like an aunt or something.” The mention of their dead brother made Gwen wince, but no one noticed. “And stop trying to change the subject,” he added.

“Yeah,” June chimed in. “Don’t change the subject.”

Ignoring June, Gwen asked their brother, “Why are you so interested?” She propped the heels of her hands on the counter’s edge. “You haven’t asked me anything like that in ages.”

“Best I could tell, there’s been nothing to ask about. . . . ’til now.”

Attentive, June stopped stirring the green beans, while Katie leaned in the door jamb, barely listening. More likely, lost in thoughts of romance and honeymoon. Denny placed his hands on Gwen’s shoulders and made her face him. “Something’s different, Nin. You’ve got a guh-low.”

Before June could notice her blush, Gwen reached into the refrigerator, then shouldered past him with the buttermilk jug. “There’s still nothing to tell.”

“Don’t give me that.” Denny followed her the four steps across the kitchen where Katie was finally making herself useful preparing cornbread. “You can’t keep secrets from me,” he chided at Gwen’s ear. “There’s a guy, isn’t there?”

She set the buttermilk in front of Katie and turned to meet Denny face-to-face. Even though her sisters would hear, she whispered, “Stop it,” hoping Denny would take her signal to drop the subject for now.

Too late. June piggybacked on Denny’s rags. “He’s right. You look happy for a change. Have you finally given in to Grant?” June grinned, waiting for Gwen’s reaction. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of one. Heaven forbid she find out that Saturday night Grant had professed his undying love.

“He’s still around?” Denny asked.

“Yeah.” She stared at the stream of buttermilk flowing from the jug Katie held.

“He’s good to her, Dennis.” June said it to Denny but aimed the comment squarely at her. “And he and Brenda Montgomery aren’t an item anymore.”

How could she know that already? For over a year, June had relentlessly insisted that the friendship Gwen and Libby had with Grant would develop into something permanent. She talked about it so much that other people were making assumptions about Gwen and Grant as a couple, too.

Denny stepped closer. “Well, Nin?” When she didn’t answer, he cocked his head at her and raised an eyebrow.

She groaned and turned away. “Geez. Not you too.”

He reached for her elbow. “What?”

She didn’t pull away. “I keep telling everyone”—she glared at June—“he’s just a friend.” In frustration, she parroted back the words Denny had used earlier: “Always been that way, always will be.” She grabbed the buttermilk to return it to the fridge.

June blocked her way. “Then I don’t get it.”

Denny and Katie raised eyebrows at one another. June simply wouldn’t let up. Gwen rolled her eyes, then met June nose-to-nose. “You don’t get what?”

June didn’t look away, but her voice was pleading. “Dennis, Grant’s been so good to them.”

Gwen sighed at the ploy. It wasn’t the first time June had pulled their baby brother into the middle of their disagreements, knowing that if she could get him on her side, he could sway Gwen. No swaying would happen on this. “You think I’m not aware of that?” She stepped around June and opened the refrigerator.

June paced with her. “This has gone way beyond weekly dinners and ice cream Saturdays. Are you crazy pushing him away?” When Gwen closed the fridge, June was still at her shoulder. “He’s nuts about you. Do you want Libby to be without a father the rest of her life?”

Gwen took in a deep breath to compose herself, released it. “Look, Grant has stood by his promise to Carter like any good man would. He’s been exceptionally kind to me and Libby. But that’s as far as it goes.” She leaned to her sister. “He’s not the guy.” She returned to the sink, afraid her explanation would fall short of closing the conversation. She was right.

“Why not?” June’s whine sounded like one of the girls when they didn’t get their way. “He takes care of you two. He comes from a good family. He’s handsome. He loves Ma and Daddy to pieces. And he’s got a good job.”

“Yeah,” Gwen muttered. “A job that can kill him.”

“So, that’s it?” The pitch of June’s voice rose. “You’re afraid he’ll get shot like Carter and you’ll lose him, too?” When Gwen didn’t answer, June stepped beside her. “Oh, Gwen, honey. You can’t push away happiness out of fear.”

“No!” Gwen grabbed the iron skillet Katie had filled with cornbread batter, opened the oven, and shoved it in. “Like – I – said.” She slammed the oven door, then straightened. “He’s a great guy.” She punctuated every word. “But he – is – not – for – me. Okay?” She widened her eyes. “There.”

June held Gwen in a long, hard stare, her bottom lip stuck out. “Then you don’t need to keep stringing him on!” The spoon she slung across the counter clattered against the cookie jar. She shoved open the door and marched into the backyard.

June’s claim stung Gwen for the truth that it was. She hadn’t intentionally led Grant on. Then why was she letting him stick around?

“Geez, Nin,” Katie said. “You’d think she was the one in love with Grant!” Katie’s joking accusation shifted the mood.

Grateful, Gwen laughed. “Grant’s got the patience of a saint,” she said. “But even he couldn’t put up with that. I don’t know how Nelson does it.” That would end the subject.

Katie pushed the screen door open. “Lemme know if you need help finishing lunch.” She stepped out on the porch.

Gwen watched her little sister skip across the yard to her fiancé. “Young and in love.” She put her hands in the dishwater. “But marrying a local boy.” Shaking her head, she added, “She’ll be stuck here forever.” She swallowed hard against the rising guilt that she couldn’t just be happy for her baby sister. Or maybe to keep down the anger over her own choices.

Denny leaned against the counter beside her. “All right, sis. It’s just us now. What’s up?”

Gwen rinsed a plate and handed it to him. “Nothing.”

He pulled a clean dish towel from a drawer. “What is it with Grant?” he asked, wiping the plate. “For real. What’s up?”

She huffed. This was exhausting. “Oh, Denny. I’ve been over this with June a zillion times.”

“But I’m not around, Nin. You gotta catch me up. Lay it on me.”

She smiled. He wasn’t a busy-body like their sister. His concern was sincere and unselfish. “Grant’s a nice enough guy, Denny. Libby adores him.” She scanned the backyard for her daughter, sitting on the ground against the rock wall near William. She had her nose in a book, of course. “For a long time now, he’s claimed he’s in love with me. But he’s been a womanizer since high school. Every time a girlfriend leaves, he comes back to us, waving his promise to Carter as his reason for returning.” She pushed the rag into a tall green Esso glass. Suds oozed out. “Honestly, he’s gotten his loyalty to Carter all twisted up. He’s confused it with love for us. For me.” She sighed. “His intentions are good, but like I said, he’s not the one. Not for me.” She paused. “Not for forever.”

“What’s it gonna take for some dude to get you for forever?”

She chuckled. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“Regardless, you do have a . . . kinda . . . happiness about you. Something I haven’t seen in a long time. What’s that about if not Grant?” She stopped washing dishes, but didn’t answer. “Come on, Nin. You can tell me.”

“I . . .” She checked out the window to see if anyone was coming toward the house.

“Come on already,” he said. “Tell me about him.”

They’d always shared their secrets, always. So he would never let up until she told. “He’s . . . ” She searched for the right word. “Different.” Even in this, she couldn’t resist teasing her baby brother. He’d make her pay for it later.

“I’d expect nothing less from you.” He paused, waiting for more. “You’ve started. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“That’s it. At least for now.”

“Oh, no!” He puffed out his chest, propped hands on his hips. “You will not get away with that. More.”

“That’s all you’re getting.” She pushed and pulled the sudsy dishrag in and out of the glass more than necessary. “Besides, you know me. I’m not going to fall for any average guy.” With dripping hands, she reached for the spoon June had flung on the counter.

Denny grabbed it from her. “Wait a minute now. Different or oddball?” he teased. “Which is he?”

“Not oddball, silly.” She dried her hands on the towel tucked into her apron. “Just different. And it’s early still. There’s not much to tell.” Their eyes met. She held his gaze. “That’s all.” He seemed to understand she didn’t want to keep talking about this.

He dropped the spoon into the dirty water. “Whatever turns you on.” He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder. Both facing the window like that, he whispered even though no one else was around, “Nobody’s good enough for you as far as I’m concerned.”

She put a hand on his arms and squeezed. “You’re sweet. As always.” His nearness was a comfort. “You’ll meet him.” She pursed her lips. “Just give me time.” They stood that way another moment, watching family.

She patted his arm—“Now”—then spun to release herself from his hug. “Your turn.” She took his hands in hers. “You have to tell me. Why are you out of school a week early? We didn’t expect you ’til next weekend.” He dropped her hands and turned away. “They haven’t kicked you out, have they?” Her worst fear.

He shook his head. “I figured you wouldn’t take long to get around to this.”

Thanks for reading! Each episode is a work-in-progress, which means you’re a vital part of my creation process, and the story may expand or contract as I write. I encourage and value your comments.

Jump to: Episode Guide | THE MAILBAG

DANCING AT THE ORANGE PEEL is one story in evolving collection called “The Kent Creek Chronicles.” To follow along and receive extra related tidbits from THE MAILBAG…

Subscribing is free, but a paid subscription helps me continue writing my stories and living my dream as a author.

Whichever you choose, thanks for your support!

Your grateful scribe,