Bright Eyes

by Catherine Anderson

  “You need some magnets for your ’frigerator, too. Maybe, then, it won’t look so naked in here.”

  Magnets? His mother’s refrigerator was covered with them, and the thought made him shudder. “I don’t like clutter.”

  “Some potholders, then,” she suggested. “When I find time, I’ll color you a picture, too. It’s always nice to have kid stuff hanging up. Mommy says it makes people feel at home.”

  Potholders, he could handle. The kid stuff he could do without. She rested her tiny hands on her hips and turned to face him. “Gramps wants to come over here and show you how the cows can eat the cabbages.”

  Zeke had heard that expression and couldn’t help but smile. “Uh-oh.”

  She pressed forward, forcing him to retreat a step. Her dusty little feet sported bright pink toenails and red sandals with straps held together with duct tape. Hands still at her waist, she looked up at him, the glint in her eye reminiscent of the fire he’d seen in her mother’s. “We need to have a talk.”

  Zeke never argued with a lady who had butterflies on her sundress. He glanced outside to make sure Miss Rosie had no entourage before he closed the door.

  “What, exactly, do we need to talk about?” he asked.

  “Well, first of all, it isn’t very nice to be noxious to your neighbors. Don’t you want us to like you? There’s nothing worse than having no friends.”

  “That’s true, I suppose.”

  Dark curls afire in the fluorescent light, she tipped her head to study him. “You got any cabbages in your garden?”

  “A few.”

  “You don’t want our cows to eat them, do you?”

  Zeke lost his heart right there on the spot. He’d never clapped eyes on a cuter child. Every time she spoke, a dimple flashed in her cheek. And she was so tiny. The top of her head barely grazed his thigh, and yet she stood with her shoulders erect, her chin jutted, ready to take him on.

  “No,” he replied. “I’d rather your cows stayed at home.”

  “Cows in the garden are a very bad thing. Daisy and Marigold can eat a lot. They got in Poppy’s onion patch last week and ate so many our milk tasted funny.”

  Setting his beer aside, Zeke sat on one of the kitchen chairs and motioned for her to join him. She was a tad short, and sitting on a chair took a bit of doing, but she finally managed after a good deal of standing on her tiptoes and twisting. When she was properly perched, she covered her smudged knees with her faded skirt, patted her tousled curls, and said, “I hope you’ll excuse how I look. I haven’t had my bath yet. Until bedtime, Aunt Valerie says it’s an effort in futility.”

  “You look fine to me,” Zeke assured her, and meant it.

  She folded her hands and fixed him with an imploring gaze. Somehow she reminded him of his little sister, Bethany, as a child, all big brown eyes and innocence. Only he couldn’t remember Bethany ever talking like this. The kid had an amazing command of English.

  “How old are you, Rosie?”

  “Four. My birthday is February twenty-fourth. This month, I’ll be four and a half.”

  “I take it that I’m not very well liked at your house right now.”

  She pursed her bow-shaped mouth again. “No, not very. My mommy’s really glad Chester bit you on the butt.”

  Zeke gulped down laughter again. “Ah.”

  “Most times, my mom likes everybody,” she said solemnly. “But she doesn’t like you very good ’cause you’re not being nice to my brother.”

  “I’m not?”

  “No, and that needs to get fixed before Gramps lets our cows eat all your cabbages.”

  “I see.”

  She glanced at his hand. “That’s all the money I’ve got. I’ve been saving for a dune buggy for my Barbie.” She rolled her saucer-shaped eyes and puffed at her bangs. “I guess she’ll have to walk everywhere a while longer. That’s okay, I suppose. Walking is good for the cardigan vascular system.” She lowered her voice slightly to add, “That’s your heart, in case you didn’t know.”

  Right then, his cardigan vascular system was in serious danger of developing a ravel. His palm burned where the coins rested. He couldn’t take this child’s Barbie doll savings.

  “I know it’s quite a lot of money,” she went on, “but maybe not enough for paint. Poppy says he’s going to win the lottery tonight, but he tells me that every Saturday.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders, then leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Aunt Valerie says he’s got about as much chance of winning the jackpot as a pig does to fly. If she’s right, he may not be obscenely rich anytime soon.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Oh, well.” She shrugged again. “It makes Poppy happy to think he might hit the big one. With his back hurting all the time, it’s a nice distraction. Mommy says there’s no harm in hoping, just so long as he doesn’t spend his egg money before the chickens lay.”

  Zeke nodded. “There’s wisdom in that.”

  “Mommy’s real smart about stuff like that. She was raised on the farm.” She bent over to scratch one brightly painted toe. “Here’s the problem. If Poppy doesn’t win tonight, we won’t have the money to pay you off until Mommy’s ship comes in.”

  Zeke found himself wondering what this child’s IQ was. It was like conversing with a tiny adult. He held out his hand, trying to return her quarters and pennies. “I’ve made arrangements with your mother for Chad to work off the debt, Rosie. You don’t have to pay me anything.”

  She shook her head, refusing to take the change. “Chad can work, just like you arranged, only he can’t work as long as you want. He’s got to go to camp. It’s extremely important. Mommy says it’s vital.”

  So they were discussing camp again, were they? Zeke settled back to listen. Judging by the determined glint in Rosie’s eyes, he was going to hear her out whether he wanted to or not.

  “Chad has been real unhappy since the divorce. My dad hasn’t come to see him one single time since school got out.”

  Zeke was appalled. “Not even for a short visit?”

  “Nope. And he hasn’t sent Mommy any money for us, either.” She heaved another sigh. “It’s a very long story. Mommy doesn’t think I know about most of it, but I’ve heard her talking to Grammy when she thought I wasn’t listening.”

  Zeke rubbed his jaw. “I see.”

  “My daddy ripped her off.”

  “Ah.” He was trying to think of a way to stop this disclosure when Rosie wrinkled her nose and said, “Like before the divorce? Daddy told Mommy that the development company was short on cash and talked her into taking out a second orange on our house.”

  “A second what?”

  “Orange. That’s where the man at the bank gives you lots of money for your home kitty, and then it’s not your kitty anymore.”

  Zeke slowly deciphered that information. “A second mortgage on the home equity,” he translated.

  She shrugged. “Anyhow, that’s what they did. Only Daddy didn’t really need the money. He just told Mommy that so she couldn’t take his suits to the cleaners after she divorced him.” She lifted her small hands. “Every cent, gone, just like that, and then Daddy hid all his asses so the judge wouldn’t make him pay Mommy lots of money.”

  Zeke shifted uncomfortably on his chair. “Rosie,” he inserted, “I don’t think your mother would approve of you telling me this.”

  “She wouldn’t care. It’s as plain as the nose on her face that she’s broke and the club’s about to go bank ruptured.” She fiddled with the duct tape on one of her sandal straps. “That’s why she can’t buy me new shoes and Chad couldn’t take swimming lessons this year. On Monday she’s taking us to Goodwill to shop for school clothes. If it weren’t for Poppy letting us live with him, we’d be SOL.” She arched a questioning look at him. “Do you happen to know what that stands for? Aunt Valerie says it a lot, and Mommy won’t tell me what it means.”

  Zeke could understand why. Thinking quickly, he said, “It means sadly out
of luck.”

  “Hmm.” She scratched under her ear. “That’s us, sadly out of luck. And Chad is saddest of all. When he broke his bike frame, Mommy couldn’t afford to get it fixed, and riding his bike was the only fun thing he had to do all summer. He can’t play with his friends. They live in town, and we don’t have gas for extra trips.”

  “That’s too bad,” Zeke said softly, and for the first time he was actually starting to understand Chad’s rage. Natalie hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said the boy had lost everything.

  “At camp,” Rosie went on, “Chad will be able to see his church friends and have fun for one whole week, which isn’t very long when you compare it to the whole summer. We have to switch schools this year ’cause we moved, so it’s real, real important for him to keep his church friends. They’re all he’s got until he gets to know some new kids at South Middle School. Plus, he washed cars and worked at bake sales to make the money. It’d be awfully sad if all the other boys got to go, and he didn’t.”

  “I guess it would, at that.”

  Rosie arched her dainty eyebrows. “Anyhow, unless you want our cows in your cabbages, we have to work out a deal.”

  “I definitely don’t want your cows in my cabbages.”

  She nodded as if that went without saying. “Here’s my idea. My mom and I can come help Chad get the work done. That way, you’ll get everything fixed faster, and Chad will be done paying you back before camp starts. You got a problem with that?”

  Zeke remembered the look on Chad’s face when he’d picked up the circular saw, all fear and lack of confidence. His heart squeezed, followed by an unpleasant ache. Maybe Chad’s father was a neglectful deadbeat, but his mother was there for him—and so was his little sister. Zeke understood family loyalty. The Coulters had invented it.

  “No,” he pushed out. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Then how come you sent my mom home this morning? She was really, really mad.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Rosie seemed to find that to be an acceptable excuse. “Okay. Tomorrow we’ll come help, then. That way, Chad won’t miss camp, Gramps will get over being mad at you, and our cows won’t eat your cabbages.”

  “That sounds like an all-around fair deal to me,” Zeke replied. Then he couldn’t resist asking, “If Chad couldn’t take swimming lessons or ride his bike, what has he done all summer?”

  “He read his Harry Potter books twice. Now he just lays on his bed, listening to Aunt Valerie’s rap. Mommy says it’s going to rot his brain, and she worries all the time.” She sighed again. “Chad wanted us to go to Disneyland like his friend Tommy, but Mommy says we’ve got to wait for her ship.”

  Zeke found himself struggling not to smile again.

  “It’s a money ship,” Rosie elaborated. “When Aunt Valerie says it sank at sea, Mommy tells her to put a sock in it. I’m in total agreement. I really want to go to Disneyland next year and meet Mickey Mouse—the real one, not a fake.”

  Zeke recalled Chad’s saying that he was bored at home, and little wonder if he’d been listening to rap all summer. Rosie’s direct, honest gaze made him feel ashamed. He’d been furious about the damages that Chad had inflicted, and he’d gone off half-cocked, hell-bent to teach the kid a lesson. It shouldn’t have taken a little girl’s honesty to make him step back and question the wisdom of that. Sometimes even tomato throwers needed a break.

  “You can keep my money,” Rosie went on to say, “and me and Mommy will come every day to help Chad fix stuff. When we’ve worked long enough to pay for everything, you can tell us, and then we’ll stop.”

  How could Zeke look into those huge brown eyes and argue? “Okay.”

  She slid down off the chair, a miniature powerhouse who would probably never realize that a glass ceiling existed. She thrust out her tiny hand. “We gotta shake on it. Poppy says no deal is final until you shake.”

  Zeke agreed. When he made a bargain and shook on it, the terms were written in stone. Her hand felt impossibly small and fragile when he encompassed it with his fingers.

  After sealing the deal, she withdrew her arm, fussed daintily with her skirt again, and then beamed a smile at him. “I’m a real hard worker. You’ll see.”

  Zeke tried to picture her carrying boards bigger than she was. “What have you done for fun this summer, Rosie?”

  She smiled broadly, flashing her dimple. “Lots of stuff. Aunt Valerie always thinks of something when Mommy’s at work. Chad doesn’t like the stuff we do, though. He says it’s dumb.”

  “What do you do?”

  She frowned. “Sometimes we paint our fingernails. Other times we play Go Fish or checkers. When those things sound big-time boring, Aunt Valerie makes caramel corn and steals the remote control from Gramps so we can watch kid movies. She still likes them ’cause she hasn’t ever grown up. She says she’s never going to. Being a grown-up is dull, dull, dull.”

  Zeke tried to imagine sexy Valerie watching children’s films. Maybe, he decided, a heart of pure gold was concealed behind all that makeup and hair gel. “Watching movies sounds fun.”

  “Everything is pretty fun with Aunt Valerie,” the child assured him. “Just not as much fun as it is with my mommy.” She turned to take inventory of his kitchen again. “My brother says you’re a really good cook.”

  “I try.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “My mommy likes to cook, too, but she’s not very good at it. She tried to make you a welcome cake. Poppy said we should get out the syrup and pretend it was a flapjack. Mommy got mad and said she’d never bake a cake again. We’re kind of glad ’cause they’re never very good.” She turned toward the door. “I gotta go. Aunt Valerie might notice I’m gone and start to worry.”

  “Uh-oh. I hope you don’t get in trouble.”

  She sent him a surprised look over her shoulder. “From Aunt Valerie? She won’t be mad. She’ll just want to know what your house looks like. She thinks you’re cute. Chad says she’s in for a big disappointment because you’re gay.”

  Zeke’s eyebrows lifted. Before he could think of a response to that revelation, Rosie was out the door. She paused on the porch to say, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  The door closed, and Zeke sat there in the quiet kitchen, wondering if he’d imagined the visit. Then he opened his hand and stared at the coins resting on his palm. They were sweaty from Rosie’s fist. He smiled and put them on the table. A Barbie dune buggy? He wasn’t familiar with Barbie accoutrements but wished he were. He’d head for the nearest department store and buy Rosie’s doll some wheels.

  Chapter Four

  Shortly after Rosie’s departure, Zeke returned to town and visited the ranch-supply store that he’d purchased on contract from his father. After getting updated by the night manager and making the rounds to chat with his employees, he stocked shelves until closing time at eight. When everyone had left, he spent a couple of hours in his office doing that day’s books, juggling work schedules to cover his shifts for the next three weeks, and making out orders for Monday.

  He was yawning by the time he set the security alarm and left the building. En route to his truck across the dark, empty parking lot, he thought of Rosie Patterson and the deal he’d struck with her. He should at least inform her mother of that conversation. He also owed the lady an apology. He cringed when he remembered saying that she mollycoddled her son. Like he was an expert on kids? He’d made some rash assumptions, bottom line. Chad had some problems, no question, but that didn’t mean Natalie had caused them.

  Zeke checked his watch. It wasn’t yet eleven. The Blue Parrot was only a few blocks away. He wasn’t dressed for a supper club, but what he had to say would take only a couple of minutes. Why not drop in and get it over with? He might even order a drink. The crow might go down easier with a shot of bourbon.

  A few minutes later, Zeke stepped inside the Blue Parrot. He expected a run-of-the-mill gin joint,
fancied up with a grill and limited menu. Instead, it was so nice that he almost pulled a U-turn. Jeans and a work shirt definitely weren’t appropriate. The few customers at the white-draped tables were dressed to the nines, men in suits, ladies in cocktail dresses, and there wasn’t a bar in sight. Dark blue wallpaper and elegant chandeliers complemented the brass wall hangings. Candles adorned each white-draped table, the blue tapers ensconced in holders that gleamed like burnished gold. Tasteful. He felt like a weevil in a flour sack.

  Then he saw Natalie, and he forgot to feel self-conscious. She was Rosie, but all grown up, standing on a raised platform in a sequined red dress that glinted like a banked flame in the dimly lighted room. Above her, an open-faced sound-system platform supported amps, speakers, spiral lights, and flush spotlights, strategically aimed to spill golden illumination over her as she performed. Reba, take a backseat. The sounds coming from her throat were pure honey. The guitar fit over her hip as though it had been carved for her, and she moved with graceful confidence as she belted out a country ballad about a determined woman who never gave up on her man.

  Zeke had never seen anyone more beautiful—or more talented. No longer even aware of where he was, he sank onto a chair at a back table. Between numbers, Natalie laughed and chatted with her patrons as if they were old friends, as comfortable onstage as Zeke might have been at a family gathering. Every time she moved, the dress glimmered, shooting ruby daggers. Her eyes intensified the effect, large orbs of shimmering brightness in the delicate oval of her face. With her ample curves and graceful carriage, she made a man ache.

  “Before my break, I’d like to sing a special song,” she murmured into the mike. Then she laughed and smiled flirtatiously at a gentleman to her left. “It’s a little sappy. I wrote it many moons ago when I still believed in happy endings.”

  Thanks to Rosie and Chad, Zeke already had a fair idea of what had disillusioned her. He settled back to listen. She bent her head, sending her cloud of black curls forward to cover her face. The sudden silence was electrical, and Zeke tensed with anticipation. With the first emission of sound, she snapped erect, revealing a countenance to break men’s hearts. From that second on, the lady was pure dynamite, the explosion of voice and guitar so mesmerizing and perfect that no one in the audience even moved. The piano was a barely noticed and unnecessary accompaniment.