Ties That Bind: Family Stories Read online

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  On the drive home from Pam’s, my mind kept returning to the messy house. Pam hadn’t turned out to be the neat housekeeper I’d expected. I couldn’t understand it. She wasn’t raised that way.

  “Pam hasn’t learned a thing from me,” I said aloud to myself. “She doesn’t even respect me enough to follow any of my examples or to do anything the way I did them!”

  Later, as I prepared hamburger patties to grill for Tom’s and my supper, my thoughts drifted to our granddaughter. Callie was such a pleasant baby, always ready with a broad smile—just like her mother when she was a baby.

  Raising Pam had been full of good times. I remembered the easy days when I’d forget everything except my new baby. We’d play together, stopping only to eat. My child grew up each day, and I didn’t want to miss a moment of that.

  Absently, I reached in a drawer for foil to cover the hamburgers for Tom to carry outside. I carefully crimped the foil along the edges of the pan. Returning the box of foil to its place, I let my gaze linger on the narrow drawer.

  “Are the hamburgers ready for me to…What are you chuckling about?” Tom asked as he entered the kitchen.

  I was amused by my earlier evaluation of our daughter. All afternoon I had allowed the little irritations of my morning visit with Pam to harden into another brick on the wall growing between us.

  Our relationship had always been delightful until Pam began to be her own person—and until I had wanted her to stay my little girl. Now, I admitted to myself, Pam walked in my shoes of twenty-five years ago. She had her priorities arranged correctly: Callie before housework.

  How could I, of all people, not have seen that? And now, here was the box of foil.

  Tom joined me at the kitchen counter. “What is it?”

  “Look,” I said, pointing at the open drawer.

  He looked, smiled at my amusement, but obviously, couldn’t make the connection. “Tell me what’s got into you.”

  “She didn’t turn out so badly, did she?”

  “Who?”

  “Our daughter, that’s who.”

  “I don’t remember thinking she did turn out so badly.”

  “Oh, Tom, I almost convinced myself that she did.” But not anymore. “She’s her mother’s daughter.”

  I smiled and slowly closed the drawer—the second drawer from the top, next to the refrigerator.

  __________

  “Her Mother’s Daughter” by Jo Huddleston was originally published in The Lookout magazine, Standard Publishing.

  Inside Our Circle

  A Husband-Wife Story

  “We got a letter from Andy and Susan today,” Gloria said when I walked through the door.

  “Great! Are they coming this weekend?”

  “Yes, they are. That makes all three of the children! They’ll all be here for the whole weekend.”

  “I guess you’ll be cooking and getting the house ready, won’t you?”

  “Sure will. I enjoy a houseful of family. I hope this week flies by.”

  “Now, Gloria, don’t work too hard. Let those daughters-in-law help you with some of the cooking when they get here.”

  Gloria smiled just thinking about having everybody under one roof again. I put away my coat while she finished getting our supper on the table.

  Later, when I took out the garbage, a sense of melancholy gripped me, compelling me to linger outside. I walked around the back of the garage and stood in the front yard, checking over the house. I stretched my long arms, reaching toward the December sky. My breath’s frosty trail drifted toward the garage.

  The basketball goal hanging over the garage door captured my attention, luring me like a magnet. I pushed my hands deep into the pockets of my corduroy pants and crossed to the driveway. Only frayed shreds of the original red, white, and blue net clung to the basketball goal’s rim. The house’s corner floodlight cast its beam across me, causing me to feel as though I were in a time machine. My thoughts flashed backward.

  I recalled the constant splat-splat-splat of the basketball bouncing on the concrete driveway in the evenings after homework and during summers. Gloria and I would roll our eyes at each other over the aggravation of the noise, hoping it would soon stop. At least, we knew where our children were.

  The kids decided the edges of the driveway would serve as the out-of-bounds lines of their basketball court. After each basket was made, somebody would jump off the concrete, scuffing up the grass, to pass the ball back into play.

  I remembered how every summer I’d become concerned about the trampled grass alongside the driveway. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep grass growing within three feet of the concrete.

  “The grass will grow back after the kids grow up and move away,” Gloria had finally said. After I quit stewing about my precious grass and thought about her words, they made sense.

  Our three kids made good use of this recreational area, one of the best parenting decisions my wife and I ever made. The kids stayed at our house more, their many friends gathering in our driveway. Our house became the place to be. All of them knew they could count on Steve, Andy, and John’s mom to bring out something cool to drink and homemade cookies to eat.

  When their friends couldn’t be here, the boys would challenge me to a game of one-on-one, or when John, our youngest, got big enough, a game of two-on-two. Gloria was the cheerleader (for both sides, of course) while also operating the refreshment center.

  Tonight, I scrounged around inside the garage until I found the old basketball I’d never been able to throw away. Its bounce wasn’t as spry as it used to be. Something like me. The grained leather surface of the ball had been worn away to a smooth shine.

  I tossed up a one-hander, but it never reached its mark. Moving a little closer, I aimed my next shot at the backboard, watching as the ball hit the rim and fell back toward me. After a few more practice shots, I put one through the ragged net.

  After a few minutes of this, my cold hands signaled the end of my solo game. I tucked the basketball back in the box where I’d found it and retraced my steps to the backdoor. A spitting snow had just begun, stinging my sweaty face.

  I went inside to the warmth of the house, but the chill of missing the kids stayed with me. None of them lives a great distance from us, but all three of them seemed far away tonight.

  I joined Gloria on the sofa in front of the fireplace and drew her close into a gentle hug. Somehow she always understands me, her smile as soothing as a cool cloth on a fevered brow.

  Surely Solomon described Gloria’s character when he wrote Proverbs 31. She’s always looked after the boys and me with unselfishness. She’s never put herself first, but included us all in her watchful care.

  Gloria senses when I'm sentimental about our family. She knows when I hug her close without words I also draw our children inside the circle of our arms.

  We sat like that for a long while tonight, content to gaze into the flames and feel secure about our whole family. Reflecting on my game just now, I smiled. Maybe I hadn’t lost my touch, after all.

  “Yeah,” I said out loud. “When the kids come home, I’ll challenge them to a game of basketball.”

  Gloria smiled at me as if she’d known I would say that.

  __________

  “Inside Our Circle” by Jo Huddleston was originally published in Mature Living magazine, LifeWay Christian Resources/Southern Baptist.

  A Note from Jo

  Thank you for spending your valuable time reading Ties That Bind: Family Stories. I hope you enjoyed reading these short-short stories. If you did, please tell your friends.

  If you read any of my full-length books, I’d appreciate your placing a short review on at your favorite eBook retailer—one or two sentences would be great. That’s all you really need. You don’t have to describe the plot since that is always done on the website or in the book’s description. All that is needed is your reaction to the book. Simply tell why you liked my book, and this would h
elp others to find clean fiction to read.

  You can keep up to date on my writing by signing up for my mailing list. I have a monthly drawing among those who have signed up for my mailing list, and the winner receives a free eBook copy of their choice of one of my books. On my website, you can read the first chapters of all my novels and novellas.

  Hearing from readers is such a pleasure and a blessing! Your kind words encourage me. You can email me from the Contact page on my website and I’ll respond personally. To those of you who’ve written a review of my books on Amazon and Goodreads—major thanks! Reviews are helpful and very much appreciated.

  About The Author

  Jo Huddleston is a multi-published author who writes novels inspired by her fascination with the 1950s and her love of her native American South. Novels in her endearing Caney Creek series, her West Virginia Mountains series, as well as her stand-alone release, Tidewater Summer, are sweet Southern romance novels. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and the Literary Hall of Fame at Lincoln Memorial University (TN). Visit Jo at her website where you can sign up for her mailing list and read the first chapters of her novels and novellas.

  OTHER BOOKS BY JO HUDDLESTON

  Fiction

  Caney Creek Series

  That Summer

  Beyond the Past

  Claiming Peace

  West Virginia Mountains Series

  Wait for Me

  Trust Me

  Promise Me

  Stand-alone Novel

  Tidewater Summer

  Novellas

  Donna’s Detour

  With Good Intentions

  Unraveled

  Nonfiction

  Amen and Good Morning, God

  Amen and Good Night, God

  His Awesome Majesty: Praising God’s Greatness

  America: Her Hope for the Future

  Simply Christmas*

  Writing 101*

  *Co-authored with Vickie Phelps