Jenna Mindel - Mending Fences

“Oh.”

Laura dumped macaroni into the pot and turned on the gas. She knew Angie watched her every move as she slathered a piece of bread. “Do you like mayo? I didn’t think to ask.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you like to drink? I’ve got milk, Diet Coke and prune juice.” Laura looked at Angie, hoping for a smile.

Nothing. And then finally, “Milk’s fine.”

Laura set the table when a hissing sound caught her attention. She turned in time to see bubbling water foam over the rim of the pot and onto the stove. The gas burner flared red. Laura ran to grab the pot, and gasped when she burned her fingers.

Angie actually laughed. “You put the pasta in too soon. You’ve got to wait until the water boils.”

Laura finally relaxed. “Why didn’t you tell me? I make macaroni like, never.”

Angie laughed again. “I used to make macaroni and cheese from the box all the time, but now we get the microwave kind.”

“I didn’t know there was a microwave kind.” Laura’s meals were either eaten out, ordered in or frozen entrees.

“Don’t you cook?” Angie asked.

“I do breakfast. Eggs and toast.”

Angie shook her head then took over. She fished in a drawer for potholders, grabbed the hot pot and dumped the contents into the colander.

“Hey, you know what you’re doing,” Laura said.

Angie ran the noodles under cold water. “I help with dinner at home.”

Laura stepped closer and peeked into the sink. “Are they done?”

“They’re okay.”

Laura fished a limp noodle from the colander and popped it in her mouth. “I guess they’ll have to do.”

“It’ll taste better once I mix in the veggies, eggs and mayo.”

“Obviously, you’ve done this before,” Laura said.

Angie gave her a “the artist isn’t finished” look. “Salt and pepper?”

“Whoa.” Laura jumped when the screen door suddenly slammed shut with a gust of wind. She didn’t realize it had been left open.

Then Angie screeched.

“What’s the matter?” Laura’s heart jumped into her throat.

“What is that?”

Laura saw a small black form dart through the kitchen. “It’s just a bat.”

“Eeeeew, gross,” Angie breathed.

“He won’t hurt you,” Laura said.

“I must have left the screen open,” Angie whined. “Can you get it out?”

Laura took control by fetching a plastic bowl. She’d chased bats out of her mother’s house ever since she was a kid. It was no big deal. She placed her finger on her lips and crept into the living room.

“But I thought bats were deaf,” Angie whispered.

“No, they’re blind. They use radar or something to fly.” Laura quietly closed the door to the upstairs, then the door to the laundry room and spare room. And then waited for the bat to land.

Angie ducked under a magazine she grabbed from the coffee table when the black ball of fur zoomed through the air. But she stayed quiet.

The minutes ticked by until finally the bat gripped a torn piece of wallpaper in the dining room.

Angie’s eyes went wide as plates, when Laura lifted the large bowl overhead. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see.” Laura tiptoed toward the bat.

Angie scooted behind Laura, not wanting to be left alone in the open.

“Don’t move,” Laura breathed.

Angie folded herself into Laura’s back. “I won’t.”

Laura cupped the bowl against the wall, trapping the bat underneath. It flapped then settled down. “Get me that macaroni box. Open it flat so I can slip it between the wall and the bowl.”

Angie looked unsure, but she ran to the kitchen and returned with a flattened box.

Laura kept one hand on the bowl and wedged the cardboard underneath the rim.

“You did it,” Angie said with a trace of awe.

“Yup.” Laura headed for the porch. She set the bowl down and lifted the cardboard lid, then stepped back. The bat flew out against a darkening, angry-looking sky.

“Is it gone?” Angie whispered from the other side of the screen door.

“Yes.”

“I thought bats only came out at night.”

“Usually just before dark, to get the bugs. I think they’re cute.”

“You’re crazy. They make nests in your hair and stink.”

Laura laughed. “Who told you that?”

Angie shrugged. “I dunno. Isn’t it true?”

“Nope, not true. You’ll get used to them.”

Angie didn’t look like she believed Laura, but she sighed. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to get used to.”

Jack wiped his hands on his shirt. “Are you guys sure you won’t stay for a bite to eat?” He overstepped Laura’s invitation by offering food to the movers, but it had taken longer than he thought to finish up and he was starving.

“Thanks, but we’ve got to get back,” one of the movers said.

Jack nodded, relieved. He gave each man a tip and shook their hands before they climbed into the moving truck. A low rumble of thunder in the distance made Jack thank God for keeping the rain away until the last of his boxes were unloaded and stacked in the barn. Now, it could rain buckets for all he cared.

A fork of pink lightning skittered across the sky and the wind picked up as he stepped onto the porch and stopped. Through the screen door, he caught a scene in the kitchen that made his jaw drop. Angie stirred something in a big bowl and Laura placed a tray of sandwiches on the table.

Jack checked his watch. It had been over an hour and a half but the girls didn’t seem to have noticed his delay. They chatted comfortably and Jack thought he heard a few giggles. He wiped the sweat from his brow and noticed a plastic bowl at his feet beside a piece of cardboard. He picked them up and knocked on the door.

“Come in, Jack,” Laura said.

He handed her the bowl. “Something smells good.”

“Eeewww, Dad, you better wash your hands. There was a bat in there. You’ll get rabies.”

Jack grinned. “You can’t get rabies from a bowl. What was in here, a bat? Who caught it?”

Laura squared her shoulders, looking pleased. “I did. With your daughter’s help, of course. Welcome to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.”

Jack raised his eyebrows.

“Angie has also saved the macaroni salad from becoming a pile of mush.”

“How’d she do that?”

“Laura doesn’t know how to cook pasta.” Angie looked more amused than disgusted.

And Laura ignored the comment as if she’d known his daughter longer than just a couple hours. “We have turkey sandwiches, too.”

“Sounds great.” Jack looked around quickly. “I better wash up.”

Laura guided his way. “Down the hallway off the dining room. The door to your right, it’s closed but no one’s in there.”

Then Angie giggled. “Use lots of soap, so you get the bat stink off.”

Laura joined in with a soft laugh.

Jack nodded. It wasn’t that funny, but he clamped his lips shut and entered the bathroom. He didn’t want to ruin a private joke by making someone explain it. Besides, he was tired of trying so hard with Angie. He was just plain tired.

As he dried his hands, he thought about what Angie had said about Laura. How could someone not know how to make macaroni? The instructions were right there, easy as can be. He returned to the kitchen and took a seat at the retro metal-legged table with matching red, vinyl-covered chairs.

“Water, Diet Coke or prune juice?” Laura asked.

His daughter giggled again.

After all the arguing they’d done about the move, he’d nearly forgotten how much he loved the sound. After driving nine hours with Angie, he’d rather examine a porcupine. Now she laughed as if nothing had ever been wrong. He’d never figure her out. “Water’s fine. I can get it.”