Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble) (12 page)

“Zoe,” Finn called from the front door.

He had stepped inside by the time I got to the living room.

Mom’s head drooped and she appeared to be asleep.

Finn transferred the plastic grocery bags to one hand and then held a finger to his lips.

I nodded, and motioned for him to come to the kitchen. “Thanks for doing this,” I said, as I put away the groceries. He’d bought the biggest box of banana Popsicles I’d ever seen. He’d also brought some tea and honey. I didn’t think she’d drink hot tea, but I didn’t say so.

“You’re quite welcome,” he said.

“I made pancakes.” I motioned to the plates. “I didn’t know what kind of syrup you’d want.”

“Thanks, Zoe. They look delicious.”

“I’m going to take Mom a Popsicle. I don’t know if she’ll want her pancakes yet.”

Mom was awake, and she smiled at the sight of the frozen treat.

“Eat this and then you can have some pancakes.”

“Thanks, Zoe. Tell Finn thank you.”

“I will. Do you feel up to company, or should we eat in the kitchen?”

“Come eat with me. Then I’ll go back to bed.”

I fetched Finn and my pancakes, and we joined Mom in the living room.

I sat down in the corner of the couch in my eating without a table position, one knee bent, the other foot on the floor. Optimum stability for maneuvering food on my plate.

“Good morning, Annie,” Finn said. “I’m sorry to hear you’re under the weather.”

“I’ll survive,” Mom said. “Thanks for the supplies.”

I noticed she’d wiped some of the drool off her face and smoothed her hair. Hopefully she hadn’t tried that hard because the results weren’t impressive.

Finn finally deigned to sit and perched awkwardly on the edge of the armchair. After all those years of bachelorhood, I would have thought he’d mastered eating in the living room. Instead, he picked at the pancakes tentatively with his fork, holding his plate like an Englishman might hold an American football.

Finn caught me staring, so I mumbled, “They’re probably cold by now. Sorry.”

“They are quite delicious, Zoe. Annie, you should try yours after you finish soothing your throat.”

“I will,” she said in a weak voice.

I scrambled off the couch and set my plate on the coffee table.

“Zoe, you don’t have to rush.”

“They’re getting cold,” I said, heading for the kitchen.

When I returned with Mom’s plate, Finn had given up on eating in the chair. He had moved over to sit on the floor and had put his plate on the coffee table. The man was definitely weird.

“Here you go, Mom.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said.

I walked around Finn and the table and sat back down to finish my breakfast.

“Oh,” Mom said. “They are a little cold.” Then she gave me a pathetic little smile.

“I’ll warm them up for you,” I said, already back on my feet, circling the table, and taking the plate. I mean, of course they were cold to her. She had just eaten a Popsicle.

I punched in thirty seconds on the microwave and then headed back to my mother.

“Thank you, honey,” she said. “I didn’t mean for you to do that.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Yes, you did. Now eat them and go back to bed.”

Finn made a sound that I couldn’t quite identify. The sound was followed by a laugh. Yes, then another. I was pretty sure Finn was laughing.

I turned to glare at him. “Are you laughing at me or her?”

“Finn?” Mom said, her voice stronger with anger. “Are you laughing at us?”

Finn grinned and nodded. “I do apologize, ladies, but I do enjoy watching the two of you.”

Mom smiled. “I guess we can be a little ridiculous.”

“One of us can,” I grumbled and went to fetch my ice cold pancakes. “Do mentors laugh at their students now?”

With a shrug, Finn said, “What do I know? I’m just nineteen.”

My mother started laughing, then wincing and holding her hand to her throat.

With an exasperated sigh, I walked back to the kitchen. “I’ll be ready for my lesson whenever the real Dr. Finnegan returns.”

“Have I upset her?” Finn asked as I slipped into the kitchen.

“No,” Mom said through a giggle. “She’s messing with you and getting away from me before I ask her to do anything else.”

“Ah,” he said. “Good plan.”

I grinned as I went to get the ingredients together for today’s brewing lesson. Finn was going to test me on coping with unexpected potion results. I had mastered that by messing up every potion I tried when I was in third grade.

An hour later, as I cleaned up the neon yellow foam from the kitchen floor, I realized that Finn had some tricks up his sleeve.

“You indicated you had read my treatise on Environmental Aversion.”

“I have. I haven’t reread the second part. I can see that was a mistake.”

“What is the lesson here?”

“Reread the second half?” I sprinkled salt on the floor and then used a clean dishcloth to rub it in to the tile.

“And?”

“Don’t assume I know everything?”

“Very good.”

“Are we finished?”

“Would you have us stop at a low-point?”

“No. Let me run up and check on Mom real quick.” I tossed the towel into the sink.

“I’ll prepare the ingredients for our next foray into environmental disaster aversion.”

From the hallway, I could tell Mom was snoozing. I didn’t want to leave her without checking on her fever. I tiptoed over and touched her forehead gently with the back of my hand. She didn’t seem too hot.

The fact that she didn’t wake up at my touch told me how sick she was. My mother was generally a very light sleeper. Normally, stepping into her room would wake her.

The glass on her nightstand was empty. Next time I came up, I’d have to bring her something to drink.

It wasn’t noon yet, and I was almost ready for a nap. Mentally I was fading fast. Not a good omen when I was facing Finn’s challenges.

The next thing Finn threw at me was a fertilizer potion with the possibly catastrophic addition of water and chlorides, better known as human sweat. The neutralizing agent was actually sugar, so I handled it without any problem.

“Nicely done.”

“Thanks.”

“Should you check on your mother again?”

“I was thinking that. How many more disasters am I averting today?”

“I think we should call a halt for now. Your mother indicated that this would be a busy weekend with schoolwork, and she will require your assistance in her weakened state.”

“Mom would hate hearing you say that.”

“Say what?”

“Weakened state. You’re better off saying she’s sick. Using any form of the word ‘weak’ when referring to my mother will earn you some serious doghouse time.”

“Don’t use weak in any form. Check.”

“You probably shouldn’t think the word either.”

“She can read minds?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Do you need anything before I go? Do you have groceries for tonight? What will you do for dinner?”

“Mom will have soup, and I’ll microwave something.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Or make a salad. I might make a salad.”

He packed up his backpack and said, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” I said, and he went out the front door.

I fixed a glass of Sprite, heavy on the ice, and took it upstairs.

This time, Mom did wake as I crept into the room.

“Zoe?”

“Yeah, Mom. It’s me. I brought you something to drink.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Is your throat any better?”

“Not really,” Mom said. She sat up enough to take the glass and drink from it. “I forgot how horrible it is to be sick.”

“When can you take more acetaminophen?”

“Noon.”

“It’s past that now. Where is the bottle?”

“On the dresser.”

“Where’s your cell?”

“On the television.”

I gave her two tablets of the fever reliever and placed the phone on the nightstand. “Finn’s gone. I have to work on that paper. I’ll listen for you, but calling me is probably the best thing.”

“Thanks, Zoe,” she said, handing me the glass.

“Get some rest, Mom,” I said.

Saturday crept by at a snail’s pace. I worked on the paper, checked on Mom, and worked on the paper some more. I wanted to work in the living room, but I sat upstairs at my desk because I worried that she might need me close by.

Dad called at some point, and told me he hadn’t been able to check on the limestone yet. He said he had a lead on a quarry that he could visit on Monday.

“That’s okay, Dad. I’m studying, and Mom’s sick.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a cold or flu or something.”

“Do you guys need anything? Should I run to the store?”

“No. Finn got some stuff for us. We’re okay.”

“Oh,” he said. “Dr. Finnegan took care of it. That was nice.”

Dad had been too busy with Sheree to spend much time with Finn. “Dr. Finnegan’s great. He and Mom get along really well.”

“They do?”

“Uh, yeah. Parent, teacher, why wouldn’t they get along.”

“I could take you to dinner tonight.”

“That’s okay, Dad. I don’t want to leave Mom.”

“Dr. Finnegan isn’t there now?”

“No. Why would he be?”

“Call me if you need anything, Zoe.”

“I will, Dad. Thanks.”

Jake called almost as soon as Dad hung up. “I heard your mother’s sick.”

“Imagine that,” I said. “Is my Dad always at your house?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Is your mom okay?”

“Yeah. She’s got a sore throat and fever, and she’s sleeping.”

“What are you doing?”

“Working on this stupid paper.”

“You should take a break.”

“I am. I’m talking to you.”

“I mean a real break. Like I come over and hang out.”

“I don’t think Mom would go for that. She’s pretty miserable. I don’t think she wants people to see her like this. She acted kind of strange when Finn was here this morning.”

“Finn came over? Even when your mom was sick?”

“Well, yeah. He’s my tutor. We had a lesson scheduled.”

“Right. A lesson.” He was quiet for a moment. “How long is he going to be tutoring you? Just til the semester’s over?”

“All year probably.”

“Great.”

“What are you doing today, Jake? Homework?”

“No. Eli came over.”

“So you played games all day.”

“Not all day. We ate lunch.”

“Which means you only put down the controllers long enough to stuff your faces.”

“Maybe.”

“Who won?”

“I can’t believe you’d even ask.”

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with my dad.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Camille texted that she was studying.

Want to Skype
? I asked.

Yes
!

Soon I had an open line on my laptop to Camille. We didn’t talk much since we both had to work on homework, but I didn’t feel so alone.

On Sunday, Dad stopped by to check on us.

“Hon, go ask your mother if she wants me to come up.”

“I’m sure she won’t want you to, but I’ll ask.”

“Ask her if I can take you to lunch. You must be going stir crazy, and you have to eat.”

He had a point. “I will.”

Mom did not want to see Dad. She did want me to grab a decent lunch and to bring back large quantities of soda. “And a turkey sandwich,” she said. “I’m starving, and I think I can handle it.”

“I can go,” I told Dad. “But we have a shopping list.”

“No problem,” he said.

We went out the front door to Dad’s car. Jake sat in the back seat.

My heart sped up as I thought about lunch with him. “You didn’t tell me that you brought Jake.”

“I was hoping I would be enticement enough.”

“Aw, Dad. You know I want to have lunch with you.”

“Sure you do, kid,” he said.

“Hi, Jake,” I said.

“Hi.” His grin did nothing to slow my thumping heart.

“In the front, Zoe,” Dad said. “And stop with the googoo eyes you two, you’re making me nauseous.”

“Hey,” I said.

“No offense, John, but we probably owe you some nausea.”

“Maybe, but I am your only source of transportation.” He started the car.

“Point taken,” Jake said.

I reached my right hand back between the seat and the door and found Jake’s hand.

“Are you two holding hands?”

“Are you serious, Dad? We can’t even hold hands?”

“Fine. Just don’t giggle. I can’t handle any flirting and giggling.”

“How are you on kissy noises and baby talk?”

“If I vomit, Zoe, I could lose control of the car and endanger both your lives.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “And if he vomits on the steering wheel, I’m not driving us home.”

“Okay, enough. I haven’t had good food since Friday. Let’s stop the barf talk and talk about lunch.”

When I went inside, Mom had settled back onto the couch. I checked to be sure she was adequately covered with the blanket because who knew what she might be wearing after all these hours of fever. Once glance assured me it was safe for Jake to follow me in with the rest of the groceries.

“Hey, Mom! Jake and I have groceries.”

“And your turkey sandwich.” Jake handed Mom the paper bag with the Panera turkey sandwich and the cup of ice-cold Sprite, complete with straw and everything.

“Heaven,” Mom said after taking a sip.

I set my plastic bags on the counter and took the remaining bags from Jake. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad we got to have lunch.”

“Me too.”

Then he glanced over his shoulder to see if we were alone.

“Are you going to sneak a kiss?”

Instead of answering, he reached out and cupped my cheek. Then he leaned in and touched his lips to mine.

I opened my eyes to find him smiling into mine. “I’ll call you later.”

After he left, I turned back to the groceries, afraid Mom might try to get up and help me if I didn’t get them put away fast enough. Orange juice. More Popsicles. Italian ice. More chicken soup so we could add the potion in the morning.

“Mom,” I said, walking back to the living room. “Should I brew the potion tonight instead of in the morning, or will you be tempted to use it too early?”