Excerpt of Bitter Water, Blessed Hearts by Adrienne Ellis Reeves

The soft swish of rain dancing on the window awakened Jenny Cannon in the ebb of darkness. This was her first night back home in Brentwood, South Carolina. Lying now in her narrow bed at the top of the house, worn out by all that had happened in the past week, she let herself be swept back into the flow of slumber. Morning would be time enough to worry about what was ahead of her.

When six o'clock came the rain was still falling, but intermittently now, and Jenny stood at the angled dormer window dreading the hours ahead. Maybe if she stood here long enough she'd receive some sign of comfort and reassurance.

The scene from this house her parents had bought a few years ago was so different from the house Jenny and her sisters and brother had been born in. It had been a dear and familiar home until Jenny was thirteen.

This house, set among similar ones, two and a half stories high, with a modest yard planted with shrubs and a few trees as part of the package, hadn't been built then. As Brentwood had grown, developers had bought wooded lots, laid out streets, and built these homes not only for the new people coming south to escape harsh winters, but also to entice long-time residents to move up to a better location.

Jenny heard the door open and turned to see Nicky, sleepy- eyed and hair-tousled, coming toward her.

"Hi, darlin'." She picked him up. At six, he was getting almost too heavy for her to hold, but she knew he was also feeling disoriented in this new setting.

He leaned his head against her neck. "Why're you up so early?" she asked.

"I couldn't sleep 'cause I'm not in my own bed." His voice was still drowsy and he rubbed his eyes as he snuggled closer in her arms.

"It's your bed now. Gramma and Grandad bought it just for you," she reminded him. "Remember they told you that yesterday?" Things were bad enough without Nicky feeling bereft of his own bed. Mom and Dad had gone to great pains to furnish the bedroom half a flight down for this grandson they hadn't seen for a year.

Jenny shifted him to a more comfortable position. "Pretty soon it'll feel just like the bed you've been sleeping in," she promised.

Nicky opened his eyes. "What're you looking at, Mommy?"

"When I was your age, I lived in another house and I was trying to see if I could find it."

"Can I see it?" Nicky leaned forward, straining Jenny's back. She pulled up a straightback chair and stood him on it next to her.

"I can't find it," she said almost to herself. There were so many things she hadn't been able to find in her life, and now she wondered if she ever would.

"You sound sad, Mommy." Nicky's soft brown eyes met hers. "I'll help you find it. What does it look like?"

"It was an old house, Nicky, painted white, with a big porch and a big yard with lots of trees in it. We had a little garden in the back, some flowers in the front, and one year Grandad made us a swing from the biggest tree on the side of the house."

Opposite the tree with the swing was the house that had been like a second home to her all those years ago. She felt the muscles in her throat tighten. She couldn't afford to think about that. Not now. Not ever.

"I have to get ready to go to my new job but it's still early, sugar. You want to go back to bed for awhile? You can have breakfast with Gramma and Grandad later." She hoped he'd say yes. It was going to be hard enough to get herself ready for the day, which she dreaded more and more. She didn't want to have to pretend that all was well if Nicky was at the breakfast table along with Mom and her sharp eye.

"When you coming home?" Nicky asked, as if he was ready to be persuaded to go back to bed.

"This afternoon, just like I did when we were in Chicago. I heard Grandad say something about a surprise for you later on, so maybe you need to go back to sleep for awhile so you'll be good and ready." As she spoke she carried him back to his bed and tucked him in.

"Have a good day, Mommy," Nicky said as he kissed her goodbye. He'd heard the phrase so often that lately he'd started saying it every time his mother went off to work.

"You too." Jenny brushed his cheek wondering what she'd have done these past four years if she hadn't had her precious son. Her second thought was that having a good day was the most unlikely event in the next twelve hours. But she could bear anything as long as Nicky was safe and secure, as long as nothing happened to him. She'd dedicated her life to keeping him safe.

Her dormer space had its own tiny shower, and as she stood under the soothing hot water, her muscles began to relax and some of the tension drained away. She chose an emerald knit dress that she knew followed every line of her figure and emphasized her long legs. Today she needed every advantage she could get. Sheer hose, black pumps and silver earrings also helped. She brushed her thick, shoulder-length hair until it gleamed, applied a subtle makeup that highlighted her brown eyes and smooth-skinned cheeks. No point in using lipstick until later — after coffee.

As she dressed, she looked around the room, thankful once more that she hadn't had to go to the house she'd told Nicky about. That she couldn't have borne. When Mom and Dad had returned to Brentwood, they, too, had closed the door on what had happened there by selling the old house.

"Jenny?" Her mother's soft voice came through the closed door. "Breakfast is ready."

"Come in, Mom." Jenny smiled at her through the mirror as her mother entered the room.

Rebecca Mayes was a small woman who kept herself in shape with rigorous exercise and careful diet. Her face had not wrinkled and her skin was smooth. Jenny had her wide- spaced brown eyes and small nose, but the tilt of her head and jaw and her wide mouth had come straight from Albert Mayes, her father. The milk chocolate skin color ran through the family.

"Did you sleep well, honey?" Rebecca automatically smoothed the spread on the single bed. "I wish you'd taken the other guest room and given yourself more space."

"There's enough space here. I like it." She couldn't tell her mom that she'd chosen it because nothing about it reminded her of her bedroom in the old house.

"I peeked in on Nicky. He's fast asleep," her mother said proudly as they went downstairs. She was proud of everything her grandson did.

"I got him back to bed by reminding him that his grandad said he'd have a surprise for him later and he needed to be rested for it."

The golden pine table sat in a nook with three bay windows that looked out at a yard with shrubs against a fence, a fountain, and a covered patio.

"While Nicky's here, we're going to the nursery for some plants and flowers. I want him to help us put in them in the ground. Has he ever done that?" Rebecca brought the toasted bagels, sliced melon, scrambled eggs, and coffee to the table and sat down.

"No, he hasn't. The apartments we've lived in were taken care of by the gardeners."

She took a long sip of coffee. "You still make the best coffee, Mom. I think Nicky might like digging in the ground and planting something."

"It's wonderful having him here, Jenny. Thank you for coming." Jenny felt the emotion in her mother's voice and the love in her eyes, conveying all the unsaid things between them.

"Your dad and I will take the best care of him while you're at work," Rebecca promised.

"I'm certain you will." Knowing that had made it possible for her to return to Brentwood, even though her mind had told her not to come. "I'll go to the school and get the information about transferring his records from Chicago," Rebecca said.

"That'll be a help." Jenny stood up. "Thanks for the breakfast."

"You didn't eat much," her mother protested.

"I'll try to do better at dinner," Jenny promised.

"You remember how to get to the school from here?" Rebecca followed her to the door.

Jenny slipped on a light coat and took an umbrella from the closet.

"I wish you could have had a bright sunny day for your first day at your new job," Rebecca said.

"Bye, Mom." Jenny hurried to the car and, as she drove away, she thought how appropriate it was that the day was not bright and sunny.

She was glad these streets were unfamiliar, but Brentwood wasn't so big that she could get lost, and eventually she came to the side of town where she'd used to live. Despite herself she drove slower and slower as she turned onto Green Street, then a short two blocks on Danville, and finally onto Springview Avenue. Her heart started beating faster and faster. By the time she pulled into the parking lot of Springview School, there was a knot in her stomach.

She locked the car after she got out and made her way around to the front entrance.

A thin sheen of perspiration covered her face and the knot in her stomach grew tighter. Instead of announcing herself to the secretary, she made a familiar turn to the right where the ladies' restroom had always been. She had barely made it when all of her breakfast came up.

When the retching was over and she'd washed her mouth out, she examined her dress. Not a spot had gotten on it.

She took time to put cold water on her face and neck, then did her makeup all over again. By the time she was finished, her stomach had settled down and she felt a little more in control for what she had to face.

If only she was a woman of faith, so she could pray for strength and courage and believe it would be granted. But she had only herself to rely on. You can do this. You've done harder things in your life.

That was true, but nothing went as far back as those times that were the foundation of her life.

She took a final look in the mirror, decided to deepen the crimson on her lips to offset the washed-out look that came from losing her breakfast, straightened her shoulders, and left the restroom.

The secretary's chair was vacant. Jenny waited a moment or two then marched down the hall to the principal's office. The door was open. She took a deep breath and walked in.

The man at the desk glanced up. Shock washed over his features and his eyes almost went blank. Slowly he rose to his feet. His mouth worked but no words came out. "Hello, Scott." Jenny hoped her voice was calm even though she was shaking inside.

"Jenny Mayes?" His voice was disbelieving. "What are you doing here?"

Dr. Scott Phillips had been at his desk since six o'clock trying to clear more folders from his in box pile. Sometimes he thought he'd never catch up with the position he'd been called to, literally, out of the blue. There he'd been at the end of his vacation in England, getting ready to resume his job as vice-principal at King Elementary in upstate Connecticut.

He'd hated going back to that job, especially after the stimulating two weeks he'd spent in London. His goal was to become a principal at a school where he could put into practice the educational concepts he'd come to believe in, instead of kowtowing to out-of-date practices that kept running kids out of classes, unprepared for what lay ahead of them.

Then, out of the blue, a call had come from Joe Alston, school board chairman for a school district that had a vacancy because of the principal's fatal heart attack just as the school year was about to begin.

"I remember talking to you the last time you were home, Scott," Joe had said. "The board needs someone immediately and I have your résumé here on my desk. Can you come?"

Come home to Brentwood, South Carolina, to be principal of the school he'd gone to from the fourth through the sixth grades? Scott's head was reeling.

"What about the vice principal, Mr. Alston?"