by Arlene James
Back in front of her house again, she got out of the car and tossed Brick his keys, then suddenly thought of a way to spike her father’s guns for good. “Oh, Brick,” she said, leaning over to put her elbows on the window frame, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s a secret now, so keep it to yourself, will you, at least for a while?”
“Sure, Mattie.” He nodded eagerly. “Whatever you say.”
“The thing is, see, I think I’m getting married.”
“Married?” He couldn’t have been more horrified if she’d said she was shaving her head and joining a cult. He was too upset even to nod. “Holy cow, Mattie!”
“Yeah, I know, but I can’t help it. I’m in love with the guy, and you know how it is.”
“But married! Creeps, Mattie, you could be having kids soon!”
She laughed. “Actually, he’s already got kids. Anyway, I just thought you should know in case Dad tries to get you to ‘drive by’ again.”
“Oh. Okay. I get it. But, Mattie, are you sure about this? Married! Holy cow.”
She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, Brick. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” The shock was wearing off. He was nodding again. “Well, see ya.”
“See ya.”
He drove off in a spray of gravel, convinced, no doubt that he had narrowly escaped with his freedom. Mattie brushed her hands together. One down. One more to go.
She let herself into the house. Not at all surprised to find that her parents had retired, even though it was still early. Evans wouldn’t want to face her just now, but she couldn’t let the opportunity pass. She knocked on their bedroom door. Amy answered.
“Hi, honey. Enjoy your ice cream.”
“Oh, sure. Can I talk to you and Dad?”
Amy looked over her shoulder, then stepped back, clearing the way. Evans was lying in bed with the covers folded down around his waist. He sat up, holding the covers in place. “Mattie. I was just about to nod off. Long day. I’m beat.”
“Uh-huh. I just thought you’d want to know right away.”
“Know? Know what?”
“Brick and I have decided we’re going to get married.”
“What?” Suddenly he was on his feet, grabbing at the bedcovers to cover himself. “Married? Are you out of your mind?”
“Well, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, Brick and me?”
“Not married! My God, Mattie, that Brick…has brick for brains!”
“But, Daddy, you keep—”
“I never thought you’d want to marry the guy! He’s just someone to hang out with! Someone to…” He saw the smiles that his daughter and his wife were trying so hard to suppress. “What is this?” he demanded.
Mattie cleared her throat and licked her lips, but it wasn’t any use. She couldn’t keep from chuckling. “Oh, Daddy, don’t you understand? I’m no more interested in hanging out than you were…before you met Amy.”
He looked suddenly several shades paler. “But marriage, Mattie! There’s a world of difference between marriage and hanging out. What’s wrong with having a little fun with somebody your own age?”
“Nothing. It’s just that people my own age are…too young for me.”
“That’s nonsense! You’re always trying to grow up too fast! Why can’t you—”
“Too late, Dad,” she interrupted gently. “I’m not trying to grow up anymore. I’m there. You just don’t want to see it.”
“Mattie!”
“It’s all right. I understand. Orren doesn’t really want to let Yancy and Candy Sue grow up, either, but at least he’s wise enough to know he has no choice in the matter.”
“Orren!” Evans snorted. “What does that man know about fatherhood—or anything else?”
“Quite a lot, actually. And what he doesn’t know, he’s learning, just as you did—and still could, if you would.”
“Damnation, Mattie! Don’t lecture me. I’m the parent here, and—”
Mattie sighed and turned away, looking to Amy as she walked out of the room. “You try to reason with him, will you?”
Amy nodded.
“Matilda Kincaid, you come back here!” Evans roared, even as Amy closed the door on the sound of his voice.
Mattie went immediately to her room, then straight into the shower. She stayed there until she’d heard her father come and go again. Poor Daddy. Poor, poor Daddy.
Mattie knocked, then went on in. The kitchen and living area were uncharacteristically empty. In fact, the house felt unusually still. This did not bode well. Orren was usually at the table lingering over a last cup of coffee, ready to walk out the door almost as soon as she walked in. “Orren?”
“Mattie? In here!”
She went through the living room and into the hall, where she nearly collided with him.
“Sorry!” He jerked around her, swiping at the remnants of shaving cream on his face with the towel in one hand and shaking out a pair of socks with the other. “Honey, do you know where my work shoes are?”
Mattie leaned in the doorway and watched him yank on his socks without sitting down. “I put them in the closet.”
He shot her a grateful look. “Of course, you did.” He grabbed the belt lying on the dresser and started threading it through his belt loops. “Could you get them out, please? I overslept!”
She went to the closet and bent down to pick them up. “No kidding? I thought maybe you were training for a new Olympic event, dressing at light speed.”
“Cute.” He dropped down onto the bed, leaving the belt unbuckled, and reached for the shoes. She handed them over.
“Rough night?”
“Oh, man.” He stomped into one shoe and went for the other. “You won’t believe it.”
“That bad?”
He left the laces untied and popped up, snatching his cap from the knob of the closet door. “I need to tell you about it, but it’ll have to wait.” He kissed her quickly on the mouth and clumped by her, shoelaces flicking across the floor.
Warmed by that kiss and the endearment he’d used so casually earlier, she followed, smiling, into the living room. “What about your lunch?” She usually made him a sandwich or something.
“No time,” he said, moving on into the kitchen. “Now or later.” He paused at the door, explaining, “I’m taking an early lunch hour today. I have an important chore to do.”
“Anything I can help with?”
He smiled down at her. “You help just by being here.”
“You’re sweet.” She lifted her arms around his neck, leaning into him. He didn’t even try to resist, taking the kiss far deeper far more quickly than she’d expected. With a groan, he pulled back.
“Gotta go. Tell the kids I love them.”
“Will do.”
He paused on the bottom step to kiss her quickly one more time and say, “We’ve really got to talk.”
“Anytime.”
“Later then.”
“Bye.”
He climbed into the truck, fumbling for his keys, and a moment later was backing out around her little coupe. She waved, smiling to herself as she considered what it might be that he wanted to talk to her about. He turned out of the drive and she pulled back inside, closing the door. When she turned around, Chaz was standing at the end of the table, grinning at her, blue eyes sparkling. He had obviously been there long enough to witness at least one of those kisses. She decided that she wasn’t going to be disturbed by that. If things went as she expected them to go, he was going to see a lot more kissing around here. She smiled.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. Dad says to tell you he loves you.”
“I heard.”
“Good. Got anything special in mind for breakfast?”
He shook his head.
“Okay. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
He followed her into the kitchen proper, practically shimmering with excitement. Mattie was beginning to feel a
little uncomfortable. She pulled out a broiler pan and got down the bread.
“Cinnamon or French toast?”
He shrugged. She opened the refrigerator to see how many eggs they had left, mentally calculating how many she’d need to finish out the week.
“Something go on last night?” she asked lightly. “Everyone seems to be sleeping rather late.”
“Yancy cried,” Chaz said.
Mattie took out the butter and closed the refrigerator door. Cinnamon toast, it was. “Oh? How come?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Mattie, are you gonna marry Daddy?”
“She is not!”
Mattie whirled around, her mouth hanging open. The question had been shocking enough. To find Jean Marie there pugnaciously confronting Chaz for asking it was double trouble.
“What do you know about it?” Chaz demanded. “I seen them kissing at the door.”
“I seen ’em out the kitchen window!” Jean Marie retorted, sticking out her tongue.
Mattie gasped. “Oh, my!”
They ignored her. “She’s not gonna marry him!” Jean Marie insisted.
“You don’t know!”
“Yes, I do!” She looked at Mattie, face set belligerently. “He told me last night he’s gonna ask Mama to come home!”
Mattie literally reeled. “He wouldn’t.”
“Yes, he would! He told Yancy, too. Just ask her!”
Mattie couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Chaz glared at Jean Marie and ran from the room. After a few moments Mattie got a hold on herself and managed to display some concern for making toast. Turning her back to Jean Marie she calmly began to spread butter on the bread, while inside she was quaking so hard that her bones rattled. She’d worked her way through three pieces without tearing any of them before she heard Yancy’s emphatic voice shouting, “Ya-hoo, Mommy’s coming home! Mommy’s coming home!”
Mattie dropped the knife. Candy Sue’s shrill giggle pierced her straight through the soul. “Mommy come home!” she crowed. “Mommy come home!”
She wouldn’t even remember her mother, couldn’t understand what she was saying, really, but suddenly Mattie’s eyes blurred with tears. She was aware of Jean Marie turning and tearing from the room, but for the moment she couldn’t actually think about it. She had all she could do to stay on her feet. She swayed against the edge of the counter, too stunned and wounded to do more than merely feel. She pressed her hands flat on the countertop, breathing deeply through her mouth, until finally her vision cleared and her legs felt steady again. Then she picked up the knife and resumed buttering the bread. She just wouldn’t think about it, she decided. She just couldn’t think about it.
Chapter Eight
Mattie answered the telephone on the first ring, trapped the receiver between her shoulder and her ear and continued peeling the apple. “Hello.”
“Mattie, it’s me.”
She could tell from the excitement vibrating in his voice that something special was up. Gracie? She couldn’t bear to think of it. She’d been telling herself all morning that Jean Marie’s big news did not mean Orren was contemplating a reunion with his ex, even if she was the mother of his children. Nevertheless, the lump that rose in her throat threatened to choke her. She had to cough it away.
“Ahem. I thought you had an errand to do during lunch.”
“Did. Just got back. You feeling okay?”
She wanted to ask if what Jean Marie had told her was true, but she was afraid to hear the answer. It wasn’t really any of her business, anyway. He’d made no commitment to her, no promises, and even if he had entertained the notion of letting her become more to him than a mere baby-sitter, well, he had a right to change his mind. Maybe he thought he had to give his family another chance to reunite. Maybe he thought he owed it to his children. And maybe he did. She coughed again and said meekly, “My throat’s bothering me some.”
“Then this is a bad time. Okay. Don’t worry about it.”
As if she could do anything else. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “No. Uh, I want to know why you called. I’m all right. I just…Something went down the wrong way.”
“You sure? Have you checked your temperature?”
“I don’t have a temperature, Orren. I’m just fine. Now tell me what’s up.”
He paused so long that she thought he had decided not to answer. Then he said, “It’s happened again. I have another diesel engine job.”
A job? She put aside the paring knife and lifted her hand to hold the telephone receiver. “What’s this about a job?”
He began to speak quickly, his excitement building again. “It’s a bus, Dallas to Oklahoma City route. Broke down outside Marlow. The tow truck brought it here. The company’s sending another bus for the passengers and a mechanic, but they need a shop and a little help. The boss has offered us the big bay after closing.”
“Us?”
“Me,” he said. “Me and the company mechanic. Mattie, I know it’s bad timing, and I hate to ask you to stay late again, especially if you’re not feeling well, but there could be seven or eight hundred dollars in this for us.”
Us? She shook her head. Of course, he didn’t mean him and her. He meant him and his kids, possibly him and his kids and their mother. She seriously considered telling him to forget it. She did not, after all, feel well, but her problem wasn’t physical, and she had no one to blame for it but herself. She’d agreed to stay when he hadn’t given her the time of day. How could she turn him down now?
“Sure. No problem,” she said as lightly as she could manage. “Any idea how late you’ll be?”
“None. It could be only a few hours, or it could turn into another ordeal, but I really don’t think it’ll be that bad.”
“All right. If I’m asleep when you come in, wake me, will you?”
“You’re a saint, Mattie. Thanks, babe.”
“Don’t skip dinner.”
He chuckled. “I promise. Kiss the kids for me.”
“’Kay.”
“Listen, Mattie,” he said in a soft voice, “about that talk…”
“We can do it later,” she said a little too briskly.
“It’s important. Don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten.”
“No, of course not. Well, I’d better get the kids fed. Bye now.”
“Bye.”
She hung up the phone and picked at the apple peel morosely. It was just as well that he was working late. She didn’t think she wanted to hear what he had to tell her, anyway. She took up the knife and began chopping the apple with a vengeance.
It was almost dawn when Orren dragged himself home. He was well pleased with the night’s work and the plumpness of his wallet. The unexpected diesel job went a long way toward restoring his spirits after his conversation with Sonny Flatte’s mother. Evelyn didn’t have much good to say about her daughter-in-law, and she didn’t know how he could get in touch with Gracie or her son, but she promised to pass the word that Orren was looking for Grace to the few friends who might run across Sonny. It wasn’t likely that Grace would ever turn up, but he wondered if he shouldn’t wait a few days before breaking the news to Yancy and the other kids, maybe give them time to get over the impulse. On the other hand, he didn’t want them to get their hopes up. He ached for them, especially Yancy, knowing she was bound to be disappointed, but he couldn’t be too upset, all things considered. Still, he wanted to do the best thing.
He’d talk it over with Mattie, see if she thought he was doing the right thing by waiting to tell the kids he hadn’t been able to reach Gracie. Then, he’d tell her how much he loved her and of the plans he wanted to make for their future. He anticipated her reaction keenly, even as tired as he was. He only hoped she wasn’t ill. She’d sounded strange on the phone earlier, not like his Mattie at all.
He took his shoes off just inside the kitchen door and walked in his stocking feet into the living room. The house was dark and silent, but he knew it so well that he seldom bo
thered to switch on lights, especially if he risked waking the children by doing so. He moved swiftly through the silent living room and into the hall. By habit, he checked in on the girls first. All three were snuggled into their beds, sleeping soundly. Chaz was asleep with a book opened on his chest and a flashlight burning under the covers. Chuckling silently, Orren switched off the flashlight, marked the page in the book and set both aside. His heart sped up as he walked back down the hall to his own bedroom.
He didn’t have to get all the way to the bed before he knew that Mattie wasn’t there, and then he wondered why he’d thought she would be. Wishful thinking? He backtracked to the living room and switched on the light beside the couch. Mattie gasped and bolted awake, eyes wide in panic.
“Easy, sweetheart. It’s just me.”
“Orren!”
“You told me to wake you. Maybe I should’ve let you sleep, though.” He frowned and reached out a hand to lay his palm against her forehead. She flinched back. “Your eyes are swollen.”
She cleared her throat, her gaze falling to her lap. “Are they? Can’t think why.”
“You sure you’re well?”
“I’m fine.” She swung her feet to the floor, saying, “I’d better get home.”
“Whoa. I thought we were going to talk.”
Mattie grimaced and put a hand to her head. “What time is it?”
“Five-forty.”
She kept her gaze down, sighing. “Orren, you’re right. I don’t feel at all well. I just want to go home, take something, and get some real sleep.” He reached for her forehead again, but she jerked away. “Don’t. It might be catching.”
He frowned. “You should have told me earlier.”
“Someone had to stay with the kids.”
“Did you ever think you might have exposed them?” he pointed out gently.
“I kept my distance,” she mumbled.
“I know,” he said. “I just don’t see the point in you trying to get yourself home at this time of morning when everybody here has already no doubt been exposed to whatever you might have. Go on in and get in my bed. I’ll sleep out here.”
