by Arlene James
Mattie got up from her chair and opened the drawer where she kept the few tools one always needed around a house. Extracting a small hammer she said, “I think we’d better go take down that sign before somebody takes it seriously and makes you an offer you can’t refuse for that land. Can’t build a ranch without land, you know.”
For a moment Orren just stared at her, something so tender in his eyes that she could barely look at it. Then Chaz whacked a fist on the table, urging, “Do it, Dad!” And the younger girls added their uncomprehending support, beating a hardy tattoo on the tabletop. “Yeah! Do it! Do it! Do it!”
Orren turned a look at the only silent one in the room. “What do you think, Red?”
Jean Marie hunched a shoulder. “Might as well—unless you forgot to tell Santy Claus that me and Chaz gets bikes this year.”
Orren grinned. “Bikes, it is.”
Chaz shot Jean Marie a thumbs-up sign. Orren got up and left the room. In just seconds he returned with a big claw hammer.
“Let’s get at that sign.”
Chaz scrambled up, and Yancy followed suit.
“Naw, y’all stay here,” Orren told them. “It’s too hot out there, and it’s getting on to Sweetums’s nap time. Mattie’s all the help I need for this.” He looked at Mattie then. “When we get back, I’ll help you with the dishes so you can go on home. You ought not to spend your whole Sunday here with us.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. The truth was she felt more comfortable here in this house than she was at home anymore. Orren stepped to the door and opened it, waving Mattie through. She felt “escorted,” silly as that was.
He followed her out and along the side of the carport, then fell into step beside her when they reached the grass. They walked toward the road in silence for several moments while Mattie pondered the wisdom of asking questions that weren’t any of her business. She decided there would never be a better time and bucked up her courage.
“Your ex-wife left you in pretty bad shape, didn’t she?”
“Financially, you mean?” Orren said. “You could say that. I’d just bought her a new car that she couldn’t live without, and she took it with her when she left, but when she didn’t make the payments, it was my credit that suffered. I had no choice but to pay it off. Then there were the credit card bills I didn’t know about, and of course, I paid for the divorce. Suddenly I was faced with day care for four kids, one of them a baby, and a bunch of bills I hadn’t counted on. It was pretty grim for a while. In fact, this summer’s been the best I’ve had it since Grace decided that cowboy had more appeal than me.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Mattie said offhandedly, realizing only when he stopped just what she’d said.
“That this is the best I’ve had it, or that she found him more appealing than me?”
Mattie felt color rising to her cheeks, but what the heck? She hadn’t exactly made a deep secret of her feelings. Then again, neither had she stated them outright. She lifted her gaze to his, shading her eyes with one hand. “Frankly, Orren, I can’t imagine a man more attractive than you.”
His hammer hit the ground with a thunk, and he stepped forward to clasp her upper arms. “Mattie.” He pulled her against him, laying his chin atop her head. “I wish I could think you’ve had enough experience to make an honest comparison,” he said softly.
Mattie stepped back again, making him look down at her. “I’ve had a few boyfriends,” she said, “but that’s not how I know.”
“Then how?” He skimmed her cheek with his fingertips.
“Orren, I’ve only known one other single father as dedicated as you,” she said. “My own.” That rocked his head back. “Don’t look so surprised. Where do you think a girl gets her standards for men if not from her own father?”
He put a hand to the back of his neck. “Hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Well, that’s how it is. Either she wants a man like him or a total opposite. It so happens that my dad is a great guy. Okay, he’s hard-nosed and overprotective and he’s got me stuck at twelve, which is how old I was when my mother died, but deep down he’s a sentimental slob, and there is nothing he wouldn’t do for me or my stepmother. We’re everything to him, because when he loves, he loves with his whole heart. Don’t you think I can recognize that in another man when I find it?”
“Oh, Mattie,” he said, reaching out for her. She dropped her own hammer, hitting his with a tink, and stepped into his arms. He cupped the back of her head with one hand and kissed her so thoroughly that when he was done, she found herself unsteady on her feet. He pulled her close, kissed the curve of her ear and laid his cheek against hers, saying huskily, “Girl, you scare the pants off me.”
She couldn’t help herself. She had to laugh. “That wasn’t quite the way I planned on doing it.”
He pulled back in shock. “Your daddy obviously never taught you not to play with fire.”
“Yes, he did,” she said solemnly, “but he taught me honesty, too, and in case it escaped your attention, I’m not playing, Orren. I came here looking for something. I just didn’t know what it was until I found it.”
He stared at her for a long time, and she could tell that he was taking everything she’d said very seriously. Finally he switched his gaze and licked his lips. “Mattie, I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” she told him, and she bent down to pick up her hammer. “When the time’s right to talk again, I suppose we’ll know.”
He, too, retrieved his fallen hammer and hefted it carefully in his hand. Together they turned and started across the remaining yards of grass to the sign posted next to the fence. “Mattie,” he said softly, as they walked, “you’re older at nineteen than Gracie was at twenty-seven. In fact, you may be older than anyone else I know.”
She shrugged. “I grew up fast after my mother died.”
“You took over the housekeeping for you and your father, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and I found I was good at it.”
“No kidding.”
She grinned. “It’s really pretty simple, just a matter of organization.”
“It’s more than that,” he said. “I’m the most organized shopkeeper you’ll ever see, but I never could get a handle on the housework.”
“The house is my shop,” she explained simply.
He sent her a sharp look. “Why do the things you say sound so logical, and how come I don’t think of them, too?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know. I just know that the only future I’ve ever envisioned for myself revolved around a husband, children and a home of my own. I don’t think I’m really cut out for anything else. The problem is that it’s not on a career track. You can’t go to an employment agency and say, ‘I want a position with a hardworking, good-looking man and a houseful of little kids who will need me and love me as much as I’ll need and love them.’”
He grinned, head bowed to watch his steps. “You think I’m good-looking then?”
She rolled her eyes. “Duh.”
He laughed. “Want to know something?”
“What?”
“You’re better looking than I thought you were at first.”
They had reached the sign. It was almost as tall as she was. She leaned against the corner of it and said, “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said, hefting the hammer, “that when I quit trying to see you as some kind of child, I started seeing quite a woman.”
Despite the thrill of that, she pretended relief. “Whew! Does that mean I can stop wearing all those sexy outfits meant to catch your eye?”
He narrowed his eyes, grinning, and said, “Better wear ’em all again. I didn’t let myself look the first time.”
She laughed, brimming with a cautious kind of hope. “I’ll do that.”
“Good deal. Now let’s knock this sign down so I can kiss you again.”
Heart tripping with more than the effort required to swing a small hammer
, Mattie beat at one end while he pounded free the other. He really didn’t need much help. He hit his end so hard that the nails tore right through the lumber, and the whole sign swung on the two nails holding Mattie’s end. One more good whack from her and the painted, neatly lettered sign lay on the ground, splintered at her end. Orren pounded the nails down into the posts, which remained standing, then reached for her hand. “Come on.”
“What about that?” she asked, indicating the downed sign as he pulled her toward the house. “It shouldn’t be left to lie out like that.”
“I’ll get it later.”
“Why not get it now?”
He sighed. “All right, if you insist.” He stopped so suddenly that she bumped into him. He dropped his hammer and wrapped his arms around her, saying, “But first things first, my meticulous Mattie.”
Before she knew what was happening, his mouth was on hers again. She should have expected the jolt by now, but it still caught her unprepared. She threw her arms around his neck, hammer flying, and held on, knowing he was going to turn her inside out and end over end before he was done. He plumbed the depths of her mouth, and she opened wide to let him, undulating her tongue beneath his and slowly twisting her head side to side, pressing herself against him so tightly that after only seconds she wasn’t sure where she left off and he began. Even the throbbing against her belly was difficult to define until he rocked against her, and suddenly she knew that the joining was far, far from complete. They were both trembling by the time he played it out and pulled back.
“Man, I’m glad I’m not the nineteen-year-old right now,” he said, running his hands up and down her arms.
“Why is that?” she asked, not certain that she had ordered her thoughts properly yet.
“Because I didn’t know when to stop at nineteen,” he said, lowering his voice. “That’s why Gracie wound up pregnant with Chaz.”
“Oh.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “Well, I’m not Gracie.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“And I’m nearly twenty.”
He chuckled. “So you keep saying.”
“It’s true.”
“Okay. But that’s not what this is about.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“It’s about not making the same mistake twice,” he said.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning…I don’t honestly know just where we’re heading now, Mattie, but it’s not to bed—yet.”
She held her hair back from her face with one hand and asked, “Orren, are you saying that you won’t have sex with me unless you marry me first?”
He blinked and shifted his weight from foot to foot, mouth working but no sound coming out. Finally he stopped and stared at her. He lifted a hand to the back of his neck. “Well…I guess that’s what I would be saying if I could get it past my teeth. Look, I told you how it is. You scare the…hell out of me.”
She laughed. “You’re cute when you sweat.”
“I’m not sweating!” he denied. “It’s just that I’m not even used to Mattie the woman, yet, so how can I think about Mattie the wife?”
She shook her head. “No one’s saying you have to,” she said.
“You know I do, though.”
“I hope you do,” she said honestly, “but if it doesn’t happen, well, there must be an Orren Ellis, Evans Kincaid hybrid out there somewhere, and if there is, he’ll find me.”
He stared at her for a long time. “He better keep his distance while I’m around,” he said finally. He held out an arm, and she linked hers with it. They strolled toward the house.
“Listen,” she said lightly, tilting her head at him, “while you’re out there picking up that sign, why don’t you gather in the hammers, too?”
He chuckled. “Okay.”
“I have no idea where mine is, by the way,” she went on, “but since you’re going to be out there, anyway, you really ought to go ahead and dig up those posts, you know.”
He groaned, but he was grinning. “Something tells me my life is never going to be the same.”
“I’ll be sure Candy’s down for her nap,” she said, smiling.
“I’ll get the shovel.”
“I’ll do the dishes, too. Then I’d better go on home.”
He nodded. “It’s probably best.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Look at us, agreeing on everything,” he teased.
She left him standing in the carport and climbed the steps to the kitchen door, saying coyly, “We haven’t discussed decorating the master bedroom yet.”
“You shrew!” he cried melodramatically. He was laughing when she closed the door.
Jean Marie was standing beside the kitchen counter, a serious look on her face. Mattie tried to subdue her own joy, suspecting that something important was on the girl’s mind, but her voice sounded light to the point of dreamy when she asked Jean Marie if she needed something. Jean Marie just shook her head.
“Has Candy Sue gone down for her nap?” she asked.
Jean Marie nodded. “She’s already asleep. Must’ve been pretty tired out from hanging all over you this morning.”
Mattie wasn’t certain, but she sensed an underlying edge in Jean Marie’s voice. “Red, is—”
“Don’t call me that!” Jean Marie exclaimed. “That’s Daddy’s name for me, not yours!”
“All right,” Mattie said gently. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
Jean Marie shrugged and walked into the living room, where she plopped down on the couch. Chaz and Yancy were watching television. Jean Marie slung an arm around Yancy’s neck and fixed her gaze on the television screen, whispering something out of the corner of her mouth. Yancy looked at her in surprise, then went back to watching the program. Something funny must have happened on the screen because they all laughed suddenly. Mattie shrugged and went to the sink to start the dishwater. Before long, her gaze settled on Orren through the kitchen window.
He’d taken off his shirt and was digging out the posts with the shovel. She couldn’t help thinking how handsome he was, how muscular and sleek and masculine. Was this what Amy saw when she looked at Evans? It seemed odd to Mattie, but then Amy didn’t think of Evans as a father, at least, not as her own father. Mattie smiled to herself. Life was odd. Sometimes it was lousy, but sometimes…sometimes it made a person just want to sing. She remembered hearing her mother and Amy, too, singing in the kitchen at times. It had made her feel…hopeful. And now she knew why. She started to hum. She hardly noticed when the song became words, but washing dishes had never been quite such a joy.
Chapter Seven
Laughter wafted through his dreams. Light and womanly, it filled him with joy and anticipation. The bright, shining light of a happy future blinded him to all but the woman’s shadow, its glow a nimbus around her small, delicate form. Mattie. Plainspoken, organized, loving Mattie. He reached out for her. At least he thought he did. For some reason, his arms weighed tons, and moving them was next to impossible. Mattie must have experienced the same problem because suddenly she was crying. Panicked now, he made a superhuman effort—and sat up in bed, blinking at the light that spilled into his room from the hallway.
“Mattie?”
“Da-a-ady!”
Small feet pattered on the floor, then a little bundle flew at him. He shifted his feet off the bed just in time to catch her in his arms. “Yancy? Wh—” He cleared his throat. “What’s the matter, honey?”
A little arm snaked around his neck; a wet face pressed against his throat. “I wan’ my mommy! Wa-ah-h!” Her sobs tore at his heart, even if he couldn’t quite make sense of them.
Stunned and groggy, Orren patted her little back ineffectually. “Yancy? What are you talking about, honey? You have a bad dream or something?”
Yancy Kay curled up in his lap, stuck her thumb in her mouth and tried to talk between sobs. “Ah-uh-huh-huh-wanhuh-muh-huh-huh-mah-mah-muh!”
Orren shook his head t
o clear it, then reached over to snap on the bedside lamp. Yancy’s tear-stained face peered up at him, framed by her own arm and his chest. He smoothed back her hair, murmuring comforting sounds as he ordered his thoughts. Gradually, Yancy calmed. Orren reached down and gently pulled her thumb from her mouth.
“Now then, tell Daddy what’s wrong.”
She laid her cheek against his chest, saying in a small, heartbreaking voice, “I want Mommy.”
A shock wave reverberated through Orren. “You want who?”
“Mommy. My mommy.”
Orren was momentarily speechless. He couldn’t seem to make sense of this. Finally, he heard himself saying, “Yancy, do you even remember your mother?”
Her soft blue eyes grew very large and liquid in her small face. She’d put her thumb in her mouth again, and her tiny fist bobbed up and down as she slowly nodded her head.
Orren studied her in the slanted light from what he thought of now as Mattie’s lamp because of the unique pierced metal pail that served as its shade. Mattie. He’d been dreaming of Mattie. Again. But something told him that he must put Mattie aside for now. He pushed a hand over his face. “Tell me, sweetheart, what do you remember about Mommy?”
Yancy pulled her thumb from her mouth and in a small dreamy voice began to recite her memories. “Mommy’s tall an’ preddy. She ‘as sof’ yellow hair. An’ she smells nice. An’ she touch your head wif red fingersnails. An’ she whisfers…” She lowered her voice to demonstrate. “’Don’ wake Daddy. Shh! Shh!’ An’ she pu’s red kisses on you face.”
