Julia's Chocolates Read Online Free

BELIEVE it!” This last part she yelled so loud the multitude of birds in three giant cages went crazy.
    “I’ll go get you some cinnamon—”
    “No! Heavens, no, Julia. I’ll get some tomorrow. But I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE IT!”
    This is classic Lydia. The smallest problems leave her totally exasperated, even furious. Astounded. And yet, the big problems, the terrible things in her life that had happened, like losing her father and brother as a child in a car accident and being stuck in that car with two dead people for hours while the police dismantled the car, she rarely talked about, and when she did it was with strength and courage and acceptance.
    And she never talked about being raped by a stranger when she was twenty-five. That was about five years after she had a miscarriage and a drunk doctor slipped with the knife and made Aunt Lydia forever infertile, and then her husband left her. My mother had told me about that.
    Aunt Lydia’s phone rang again, but she didn’t answer it. In the other room I could hear her birds singing to each other. “Cinnamon. Well, I don’t need it for the jam. But I was going to make cinnamon rolls for the girls tonight. It’s Psychic Night, and we’re having it here, I did tell you, didn’t I?”
    “Psychic Night?” I choked a bit on my tea, but I could feel the rum floating through my body, and it felt like a river of pure warmth. Or maybe that was the wood stove that was so hot my back felt as if it were on fire.
    She pushed her gray hair out of her eyes and peered at me. “We’re discussing the power of breasts.”
    My mug dropped onto the table. “The power of what?”
    “The power of our BREASTS!” Aunt Lydia held two fingers in the air, then pointed at her own breasts. “You know what they are! Your mother and I and you ”—she glared with indignant accusation at my chest—“all have the same big boobs. And there’s power there . We have to rein it in and use it for our own benefit.”
    “Absolutely,” I muttered. “I need to rein in my Breast Power.”
    “That’s right! Rein in your Breast Power!” Lydia rolled the words in her mouth. “Brrreeeassstt power! Perfect! We’ll call it Breast Power Psychic Night. Every week we have a new title. I’m so glad you’re here, honey. Here, come and stir the jam for me.”
    I brought my big breasts with me as I got up obediently and started stirring, watching the strawberries getting smaller and smaller, the color a brilliant burgundy and soft red. It fascinated me, and I couldn’t look away as Lydia picked up the phone and called her friends.
    I heard her talk to a Katie, a Caroline, and a Lara. It was only on the last phone call that I really listened in.
    “No, no, don’t bring a thing, Lara,” Lydia tossed a dish towel from one hand to another like a ball juggler. “I’m making The Brownies. I ran out of cinnamon! Can you BELIEVE IT? No cinnamon!” She tsked herself deep in her throat. “So a little pot would be okay? Right, just enough to take the edge off of life, that’s a good way of putting it, dear. And good luck with that infernal Bible study. Oh, for God’s sakes, you know as sure as hell I don’t want to go to anything like that! You know what happened the last time…. I don’t care if Linda still talks about it, she needed to hear that God doesn’t like self-righteous, sanctimonious prisses who tell everyone they’re going to burn in hell!”
    Aunt Lydia listened again, then laughed. “Oh, heckles! Tell them to pray for my poor soul and that I’m hoping to get saved by next Tuesday at eight o’clock, right before I out-drink Stash before our next poker game. See you tonight, love.”
    “Who was that?” I finally looked up from my stirring and took another sip of tea. Aunt Lydia tipped a bit more rum into my cup.
    “That was the minister’s wife, Lara Keene. Dear girl. She’ll be here tonight.”
    I stopped stirring, my jaw falling open. If there had been a fly in that room,