Honey (Shooting Stars 4)

She laughed.

"Why do you laugh. Mommy?"

"Me, thinking I was a princess. We were so poor. My father was a cobbler. He worked very hard to put food on the table. We made use of every crumb, believe me."

"Why did you have to leave Russia. Mommy?" I asked.

"For years my father lived with an imperfect heart. He had a valve problem that, here in America, could be repaired, but we had no money for such a medical procedure. When he died, my mother struggled by taking in other people's wash, mending, doing housework. I was working side by side with her. She aged so quickly it broke my heart."

She stopped working on my hair and stared at herself in the mirror. but I knew she was looking back at a stream of memories instead.

"When I was sixteen, she collapsed one day and was taken to hospital. They said she had to have her gallbladder removed. It was a botched operation in a hospital with poor sanitary conditions. A staph infection was what finally sucked the life out of her. I had to watch the health and beauty drain away every day. It was almost as if... as if she was evaporating, disappearing right before my eyes.

"One of the last things she said to me was 'Get away from here whenever you can, whatever way you can.'

"I went to live with my aunt." She took a deep breath.

"The rest you know."

"No. I don't. Mommy. I never knew you came here deliberately to marry Daddy without ever seeing him. How could you do that?"

She smiled.

"Well. I did see a picture of him, but it was a poor picture of a man standing next to a tractor. I thought a man who works with the earth, who makes things grow, has to have a respect for life. I saw kindness in his eyes when we first met, and kindness, my darling daughter, is a rare jewel where I come from, believe me.

"When you look at a young man with whom you think you might become romantic, search for that. Search for a love of living things. You want someone strong, but strong doesn't mean cruel, doesn't mean ruthless. You don't want a conqueror. You want a strong arm around you, yes, but you want soft eyes. You want someone who doesn't love you as a thing possessed, but someone who possesses him."

"How did you get so wise. Mommy?" I asked. I was looking at her in the mirror.

"Pain," she replied. "Unfortunately, that can be the best teacher. But what good is it all if I can't pass the wisdom on to you, my darling daughter? I know your generation is fond of ignoring, even ridiculing their parents and grandparents. I suppose every younger generation is guilty of some of that, but those of you who don't, who take in some of it at least, are far ahead of the others.

"But enough of this serious talk. You're going on a nice date. Let's make you beautiful."

"Can I be beautiful. Mommy?"

"Of course you can. Look at you. You have a face that makes the angels jealous and this hair... its so rich a miser would choke with envy. I could sell these strands we cut," she kidded. "I should put them in little plastic bags and set up a roadside stand."

I laughed and looked at myself with wonder. Afterward, I thought my mother was truly an artist. When she had finished cutting, blow- drying, and styling my hair, it took my breath away. My whole look had changed. I thought I had suddenly been thrust onto that stage of sophistication I believed belonged only to girls like Susie Weaver. It was as if Mommy had waved a magic wand over my head and turned me from the farm girl with calluses on her hands into Cinderella, ready to go to the ball with her prince.

Would some ugly demon take joy in striking the clock at midnight and turn me back, or would Mommy's magic be too strong even for the evil that Grandad saw looming everywhere in the world around us?

He didn't see me until I sat down for dinner. Before that. I brought Uncle Simon his hot plate. He wasn't waiting at the barn door. so I called to him and started up the stairs. He was sitting under his lamp, trimming a bonsai tree. It was something in which he had just recently become immersed. Mommy had raved so much about his first attempt, he went on to a second and now a third. Grandad thought they were simply silly things, but I saw the way he stared at the two Uncle Simon had given Mommy. He stole looks when he thought no one noticed. but I did, and it brought a smile to my face. If he caught me watching him, he would mutter some ridicule about them again.

"That's beautiful. Uncle Simon." I said. He'd been so intent, it made him jump in his seat.

When he set eyes on me, his mouth opened a little and he just stared. I put his tray on his table.

"What is that one?" I asked.

"What? Oh.. It's an incense cedar. Smells good. Here," he said, holding it toward me. I sniffed.

"Yes." I said with delight.

"You look different," he said.

"Mommy did my hair. I'm going to a show tomorrow night with my friend Chandler."

"Oh." He looked at his bonsai plant and then at me. "This will be yours," he said. "When it's finished."