Another Stab at Life

by Anita Higman

  “I. . .uhh.” What should I say?

  “I mean, that’s what friends do. Right?”

  I nodded, wondering why she seemed so insistent about exchanging keys and security codes. Was she upset because she was about to lose access to my house? But if Dedra helped me tuck my cash safely away at the bank, then what would she be after? Or was it just a control thing? Maybe she felt that the mark of a trusting friendship was to trade house keys. Since I hadn’t dealt with friends in so long, I hardly knew what was expected. But the moment felt awkward. The way I saw it, I had two choices. I could let Dedra’s painting episode and her comments keep me bug-eyed all night, or I could let it go and enjoy the evening. I chose the second option. What is that odd smell? Reminded me of burnt popcorn.

  Dedra shepherded me into a den with a big screen TV. “I’ve made us some buttery popcorn, and I have all kinds of sodas. My favorite is grape, but you’ll have to tell me what you like. I have a couple of alien movies for us to choose from. And we can make a batch of cookies later if you want or do some face painting. I know it all sounds silly, but sometimes lady-friends have to be silly. Don’t we? It helps us bond and de- stress. Don’t you think?”

  “Sure.” I hoped it wouldn’t be a long night. “Please sit down. I think you’ll like that sofa.”

  Her lavender marshmallow-like couch swallowed me up whole. The room looked cool and feminine with pastels sort of ruling the space. Dedra’s dwelling appeared more traditional than Bohemian. I wondered what I’d expected. Beads hanging in the doorways and red scarves over the lampshades?

  After we’d chatted for a while, Dedra suddenly rose from her cross-legged position and threw a pillow at me. Stacks of fluffy pillows sat all over the living room, but I had no idea she really intended to use them. I grabbed one up from her arsenal and threw it at her head-on, making quite a good shot. Then a pillow war broke out like none other. I won, of course, making the most continuous hits.

  Later, after our alien movie had scared us silly, we made a double batch of chocolate chip cookies and ate a scandalous amount of raw dough. All the uncomfortable moments I’d felt so keenly at my arrival had somehow dissipated. We’d even gotten into a goofy mode and laughed until we couldn’t breathe. Of course, that was always the bonding stage. I just hoped the connection could last, since I was beginning to welcome friendship feelings back that had long since gone dormant. Yes, in spite of our bumpy start, Dedra’s slumber party had been a success. But Monday soon rose with the sun, and it was time to head home.

  Twenty-four hours later, after my house had been redone to rival the security of Fort Knox, I finally relaxed. Over the next few weeks, I had no other terrorizing incidents. The game, whatever it had been, appeared to be over. In fact, minus the repair guys, all became quiet. Well, at least as quiet as a neighborhood could be with Dedra next door.

  The house started coming together. Of course, it helped to have sufficient cash to pull it off. The crews cleaned all the first- and second-story rooms, making them sparkle. The wooden floors and oak wainscoting came to life with oil soap and polish. Now it would be easier to see what repairs were needed.

  During that time, I stocked the kitchen shelves and the fridge with food, discarded some of the old furniture, had wooden blinds installed throughout the house, bought appliances, and started the estimates for the repairs and central air. I hired a highly recommended landscaper by the name of Wilbur Murdock. He redid the front yard in all kinds of pretty foliage. Caladiums, yaupon holly, Mexican feather grass, and a myriad of flowers now festooned the front of the house and walkway. Except for some outdoor lighting, I decided to leave the backyard more primitive-looking for now.

  I had more window units put in temporarily, until I could have my permanent solution built in. I’d leave the drapes, rugs, wallpapering, painting, bathroom renovations, and furniture buying to work on more gradually. Those decisions would take lots of planning and time. In the meantime, I purchased some card tables and folding metal chairs to use while I cooked up a long-term plan.

  Watching the house come together was much more of a thrill than I’d ever expected. The crews Max recommended had been great, and I’d worked so hard I started to see muscles emerging on my arms. I even let Max help out, because he loved the process, too. In fact, I wondered what kind of a letdown I’d feel when it was all over and the house was a masterpiece again. All the sweat and fun would be over. But for now, contentment began to rule my life.

  Amid my collective pleasure, I’d let Dedra talk me into a series of blind dates with supposedly gorgeous Christian men from her church, which was now my church as well. I must have said yes to the dates when I’d let down my guard. But I knew Dedra meant well. She was just trying to keep me from joining the Old Maids’ Club, which did indeed have a lonely ring to it.

  But over the weeks, my thoughts kept drifting back to Max. Our relationship had evolved into what Granny had set up, so that spark we’d experienced before between us had apparently faded into nothing. Part of our new arrangement felt good, but on other occasions, our brother/sister thing felt as natural as if we were trying to coax an armadillo into a prairie dog hole.

  Oh brother. Where did that come from?

  But I had turned some kind of corner and wanted to be thankful for the sweet smell of roses as I tried to forget the prickly parts. Thinking of Max in a romantic way seemed to be one of those thorns to be avoided. And really, I’d never had a brother or sister before. Since the terror had ceased, I no longer entertained suspicions about Max, Dedra, or Magnolia, and the idea of having them for family started to grow on me. And, I guess because of them, I’d broken all my life rules. Laws that needed a little breaking.

  And now because of my newer life, I waited for the doorbell to ring and to announce my first blind date.

  I was to go out with a guy named Dorian Grayer. I wondered if he’d be some ancient coot with tight skin. Oh well. The Dedra Dating Game would soon be over, and I could move on to my own manhunt. But the word manhunt made me cringe. Marriage was not a totally appalling idea, but I guess I’d always thought love would come more naturally.

  I hadn’t dated much over the years. Mostly other Realtors who just wanted to talk about their listings, and a few guys from my church with whom I’d had nothing in common except for loving Jesus. Could I have it all like my parents? A romantic zap as well as common spiritual and earthly goals? What a package that would be. Put him on the auction table. I’d line up to make a bid. In quiet moments, when I’d had too much time to reflect, I thought maybe that man already existed and lived two doors down.

  As I sat waiting for my blind date, I dug back into a mystery I’d been reading entitled The Bush Master. The novel seemed to be about a murderer whose strategy was to frighten the victims bit by bit and then hide and watch the struggle from a distance. Like a snake hiding in the bushes. Then when his victims’ fears had faded and he’d tired of the game, he would strike without mercy. Okay, maybe on second thought, I don’t really like where this plot is going. I closed the book, wondering if all my suspicions were so dulled that I could no longer recognize peril even if it were close enough to strike at me.

  Bing. Bong.

  I jumped. Guess I still wasn’t used to having a doorbell. But it certainly sounded better than all the pounding and knuckle rapping. I guess it was my date, Dorian, waiting at the door with my Cinderella slipper. I rolled my eyes.

  I walked to the door in a blue silk skirt and blouse, pearl earrings, and high heels. I had at least prepared for a lovely evening. I opened the door, stood gaping, and mumbled, “Hi, there.” Did that really come out of my mouth, or was it only raspy air?

  Dorian certainly wasn’t an old coot with tight skin. He stood tall, tanned, and with more Greek angles than the Parthenon. He must surely belong on a billboard somewhere. Or maybe spread across a men’s cologne ad in a magazine. Was he talking to me? “Oh. Please come in. Dorian Grayer, right?”

  “Yes,” he crooned, placing h
is hand over his heart. “That’s moi.”

  And so I spent the evening with Mr. Apollo, but somewhere during the three hours and sixteen minutes, the Greek profile began to look more like Dudley Do- Right. In fact, I learned enough about Dorian to write his blurb in a dating service brochure. He loved fast cars, expensive clothes, and all things Greek. What a surprise. He hated tuna salad and intimate talks, and he still lived at home with his aunt Polly and his uncle Buford. Hmm. Could it be the same Buford that schemed to buy my house? Nah.

  Well, at least the evening hadn’t been a total loss. The food at Sterling House had been superb. So later, back on my porch in the clammy heat, I waved my final good-bye to Dorian. Then I became consumed with the need to flick my pinching shoes across the room and peel off my hosiery, which were now melting onto my legs.

  As I pulled my keys out of my evening bag, I noticed someone walking on the sidewalk toward my house. A man. In the dim lamplight. Did I know him? I fumbled with my ring of keys to find the house key. Just when I found the right one, the keys fell on the porch, making a clinking sound. I wondered if the game was up, as in The Bush Master, and the murderer had come out of the bushes to strike me down.

  I looked again. The shadowy figure moved toward me at a faster pace.

  11 – Ten Cats Thrown into a Doghouse

  I scrambled for my keys on the porch. Should I scream for help? I heard the man yell something.

  What did he say?

  “Bailey. It’s me. Max.”

  I slowed my wild heart. What a relief. I’m not going to die after all. “Max? Really? I thought you were an ax murderer coming to cut me to pieces.”

  Max laughed. “I guess you couldn’t see me. I’m sorry I scared you.” Max strode through the open gate with a confident stride. He looked me over. “Wow. You look so. . .delectable.”

  “Thanks.” How startling, coming from Max. The way he said delectable made me do a shivering thing inside, which I had to admit, wasn’t unpleasant. And he wasn’t bad-looking himself in his white shorts and sports shirt. He also possessed a five-o’clock shadow that forced one of my eyebrows to arch against my will. He didn’t seem to have a clue how handsome he looked. I just cleared my throat and decided to keep my thoughts to myself. “I was at Sterling House tonight.” I twirled my skirt like a flirty junior higher. Bailey, what a silly gesture.

  “Yeah. I knew you went there,” Max said.

  I suddenly wondered if news traveled faster around here than it happened. “Well, how did you know? Are you keeping track of me?” I felt a little teasing was in order.

  “No. Dedra mentioned it to me. Whether I wanted to know or not.” Max walked a couple of steps closer to me.

  “Oh. And did you want to know?”

  “Yes. No.” He frowned. “It didn’t really matter.”

  It was the first time I’d seen Max truly flustered, and I delighted in the way the lines etched around his eyes as though he didn’t know quite what to say. I reveled. I gloated. Did my face look too smug?

  “So, how was your date with. . .Dorian?” Max finally asked.

  “The evening was. . .in a class by itself,” I replied. “So, is this why you came over? To inquire about my date?” I tried to keep my smile below the surface.

  “No. Not really. I wondered if there’d been anymore incidents at your house.”

  “None, I’m happy to say.”

  “Good,” Max said. “And I wanted to give you this new list of contractors you’d asked for. You know, for when you remodel the bathrooms. I think any of these guys will give you a fair shake.” Max handed me the list, and for a second, our hands touched.

  “Thanks.” I stuffed the list in my purse, feeling a little disappointed. A pesky mosquito droned around my head. I swatted at it. Max stepped back. Recalling the roach episode, he must have thought I was going to really let him have it.

  He turned to go back down the walk. “Well. good night.”

  “Good night.” When Max reached the gate, I felt a sudden need to stop him. But another familiar tug came along with it. Don’t get involved. Don’t call out his name. Nothing long-term can come of it, Bailey, girl. I ignored my warnings. “Max?”

  He turned back to me. “Yes?”

  The air seemed heavy with something—humidity, yes, but a little more. Expectancy? “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? It’s the good stuff. But you’ll have to sit on a miserably hard folding chair.”

  “Got decaf?” Max asked.

  “Yes.” Expectancy now became eagerness.

  As I tooled around in the kitchen making us some coffee and heating up a few pumpkin muffins, I noticed he never left my side. He seemed to enjoy puttering around with me. But at one point Max cornered me in the curve of the kitchen counter. I wondered if my breath was fresh. “Do you need something?” I asked with the slightest quiver in my voice.

  Max chuckled.

  I hadn’t heard him laugh that way before. A low one with “connotations.” Nice.

  “I was reaching for two spoons,” Max said. “Aren’t they in the drawer behind you?”

  Good grief, Bailey. Get ahold of yourself. He was just reaching for something to stir his coffee with! “Yes, the spoons. Of course. Let me get you one.”

  “No problem. I’m getting to know my way around. I did help repair these cabinets. Remember?”

  “I do. . .remember.” So much for those high-powered air conditioners. I was now sweating like ten cats thrown into a doghouse. We sat on folding chairs around my little card table. Max didn’t seem to mind. As he sipped his coffee, I cradled my head in my hand. I tried not to stare, but I wanted a good look at him. I saw the highlights in his hair from being out in the sun and the muscles on his arms. He looked at me suddenly, and I hoped I hadn’t been drooling. I looked down at my coffee and took a long swig. The aroma felt soothing like a comfy blanket. “You were right about the bats. But I got rid of them.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “Stuffed my pillow into the broken window while they were out on the town.”

  Max laughed. “Why not? If it works.” He took a bite of his muffin. “These are good. Buttery and warm. Just the way I like them.”

  “Thanks.” I licked my lips.

  “But I haven’t been back up there. It’s kind of creepy.”

  “Creepy?” Max said. “As spunky as you are?”

  “Spunky?” A melodious laugh gurgled out of my mouth. What a sound. “Would you mind taking a look with me before you go? You know, to make sure they didn’t come back.”

  “Oh, so this coffee thing was really a ploy to get me to check out your bats.”

  “No. Not at all. I wanted to, you know. . .to thank you for all your help these past weeks. You’ve been so. . .you know. . .accommodating. And coffee is the universally accepted form of thank you. Well, and cash. And Granny took care of that.” What just came out of my mouth? Was I still subconsciously troubled about their silly contract? “Sorry. What I’m trying to say is—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I know what you’re trying to say. Listen, before I go, I don’t mind having a look up there.”

  The lovely moment was over. I had butchered it beyond recognition. But then, was I trying to create something here? Maybe smothering the mood wasn’t a bad thing, considering the alternative.

  After we finished our snack, I put on something more appropriate for our attic adventure. We then stomped up the stairs to the third floor, making hollow pounding noises all the way. I sniffed the molasses-thick air. Would I ever be able to get rid of that musty smell around here, or was it a permanent fixture like the gables? I switched on the upper light, and we stepped onto the third floor.

  “Along the edge over there are the soft boards.” Max pointed to the west side. Without hesitation, he then strode to the attic door and opened it. He flipped on the inner light and peeked in. “Okay so far.”

  We both crept in and took in the rather comical sight—my pillow with the chubby cup
id pillowcase was still wedged securely in the window.

  “The bats are probably feeding right now, but it looks like your idea worked,” Max said. “Be sure and add that window to your repair list.”

  “I did.”

  “Good.” Max pointed to the tower. “Do you mind if I look inside while we’re up here?”

  “Please do.”

  I opened the small door, and then we stepped into the tower. As we sat down on the wooden benches that lined the outer walls, we could see some of the sparkly lights of the neighborhood from up there. Tops of some trees. The moon. It’s called a setting for romantic inclinations, Bailey. “It’s nice up here. This niche might make a great place for reading mysteries. Don’t you think?”

  Max seemed to be a million miles away. Probably still remembering Priscilla and thinking how I’d run her off. And how he missed her. And how I’d ruined his life. Nah.

  Silence ruled the room for a few moments. They weren’t uncomfortable minutes, just quiet. Max cleared his throat. “Bailey?”

  “Yes?”

  “I need to ask you something.”

  “Okay.” I truly wondered what he had on his mind. Max stood up and stepped closer to me. Suddenly

  I heard a loud crack. The boards underneath him gave way like a trapdoor, sending Max down through the floor.

  I screamed. “No!”

  Dust flew up all around me. I dropped to my knees and looked downward. I could see Max hanging on to a joist, but he was about to drop down into a second- story bedroom. “Grab my hand. I can pull you up!”

  I wiped the damp hair out of my eyes. Bailey, you can do this.

  “Okay.”

  “Be careful. It’s too far to fall without breaking something.” I coughed, trying to clear all the dust from my throat.

  Max released one hand and grabbed mine in a solid grip. There was no way I was going to let go of him now.

  “Bailey?” Max asked. “Yes?” What was wrong?

  “Will you go out with me?” the now-familiar voice asked from the deep.