She relaxed on the padded pew, noticing the material worn from years of use by faithful believers. The wooden beams overhead were darkened with age, and the floors gleamed where colorful streaks of light poured through the stained-glass windows. The church, just like the house on Robins Lane, seemed to welcome her with open arms. Talking quietly to the lady in front of her, the peaceful tranquility shattered when Andy bounced onto the pew beside her.
“Hi, Mama Char-it!” His excitement echoed throughout the entire sanctuary. Laughter from the other congregation members proved his clear, sweet voice had been heard loud and clear.
Of all the pews in the church, she’d managed to sit with the one family with whom she’d hoped not to get her name linked. She tried to pretend the red glow of her cheeks was normal, but then Annabelle nodded from the piano, confirming she’d inadvertently started the tongue-wagging. There was no one to blame but herself.
The elderly preacher walked up to the pulpit with a slight stoop in his shoulders. She wondered if he was carrying a burden as heavy as her own. His thick, white hair matched his bushy eyebrows, and when he began to read, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,” it was as if he was speaking directly to her.
Looking back, she realized she’d been living on nothing but hope since Mitch’s death. Had her faith begun to waver? She knew all things happened for a reason, and God’s grace would handle any situation, but had she been so busy lately she’d failed to ask for His guidance?
Time had flown since making the decision to move to Robins Lane. Her girls were happier, she was actually sleeping at night, and her problems didn’t seem to be consuming every moment of her life as they had at Hidden Hills. She listened intently as the sermon continued. By the end of the service, she was sure the pastor’s stoop was osteoporosis-related. This godly man possessed a contentment that could only come from walking with the Lord
“If you’ve got a burden, give it to God.”
Charlotte experienced contentment from the reading of God’s word. Her problems were far from being over and she might not like the outcome, but she knew in her heart God’s will would be done.
She spent several minutes visiting with members of the congregation before going outside where Jake was waiting to walk her to the car. “I heard Andy, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waved his apology aside. “I can handle the gossip if you can.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… Mrs. Franklin may be hard of hearing, but she perked up when she heard Andy’s comment.”
“Tell me it’s not Wylene Franklin.”
Laughter shook his chest. “The same. Do you know her?”
Her head dropped. “She’s a customer at the shop. I’ll never live it down.”
“Other than being embarrassed, what did you think of the service?”
She relaxed against the car, not caring if she created more gossip. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever enjoyed a sermon more. Do you realize how lucky you are to have a pastor like him? I know he was preaching to everyone, but I felt like his message was directed straight at me.”
“He’s good at that. Today’s sermon focused on hope and assurance, but just wait until he’s slinging the fire and brimstone. I’ve limped away many a day with stomped toes, plus he’s burnt my britches a few times, too.”
“I can believe it.” She was glad she’d felt welcomed by the congregation.
“Do you think you’ll be back?”
He seemed to have forgotten he’d practically blackmailed her into coming again. She glanced over his shoulder at the white steeple perched high on the roof of the old building and nodded. “You can count on it.”
Jake nodded and walked away, the boys following close behind. Andy waved. “Bye, Mama Char-it.”
****
Excitement coursed through Charlotte’s veins the following Saturday, when Mr. Milner told her she could leave early. Her paycheck would be short, but she had plenty of groceries, so they wouldn’t starve. It also meant she would spend time with Jake, maybe.
Ordinarily, she would have worried about Hidden Hills or her father-in-law while waiting at the crossing on Dove Street for the slowest train of the week to pass, but not today. She’d decided to do nothing at all.
It was Jeremy’s first full day of sitting with her girls, and even though no one had called to tattle, she was still a bit surprised to find him stretched out in a hammock, with Maggie and Andy playing together in the nearby sandbox. He seemed to have everything under control, but best of all, his dad’s truck was in the drive.
She unplugged his earphones. “Where’s Becky?”
He sat up, fully alert. “You’re home early.”
“Just a bit.” Since he’d been willing to work all day, she went ahead and paid him the full amount. “The train caught me, or I would have been home ages ago.”
“Yeah, it’s a bummer,” he said, coming out of the swaying hammock. “I’ll get Becky. She and Bruce are messing with the computer, and Dad’s taking a nap.”
“Don’t bother. If your dad’s napping, then they can’t be getting into too much trouble.”
“My exact thoughts.” Jeremy had started up the steps to the house, but then he stopped and came back with a look of concern in his eyes. “Uh — Charlotte?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, but… I was just wondering. Do you have time to cut my hair? Dad says we’re to ask first, in case you’re too tired.”
Raking her fingers through his dark locks, she couldn’t help comparing the thick texture to his dad’s receding hairline. “Just give me a minute to change into some sweats.”
“Hey, Red, your mom’s home!”
Maggie stomped across the yard, pulling Andy along with her good arm. “That’s not my name, Jeremy, and you know it!”
He ruffled her curls, making wild ringlets bounce around her head. “You look like a clown!”
Her tongue shot out. “My hair is beautiful — so there!”
“Cut it out, you two,” Charlotte said, making her way through the hedgerow. Jeremy was constantly teasing Maggie. One thing for sure, it was never dull when these two were together.
“What happened to Red’s hair?” he asked, following her inside.
The pile of hair in the floor was proof of her hectic morning. “She fell asleep with gum in her mouth. I had to cut off several inches.”
When Charlotte returned from changing clothes, the floor had been swept clean, and Jeremy sat straddling the stool with the plastic cape slung around his shoulders. “Maggie cleaned up the floor for you.”
She reached for her comb and scissors. “I’m surprised she bothered. Cleaning isn’t her favorite chore.”
“Your kid’s weird. She took the hair with her.”
Jeremy bombarded her with non-stop questions about girls while she clipped. No names were mentioned, but she knew he had a huge crush on Kimmie Jones at the moment. His new hairstyle drew attention to his dark eyes, making him look older than thirteen. She had a feeling his girl troubles were just beginning.
The back door flew open, slamming against the clothes dryer, leaving a small dent in the white enamel. Becky rushed in, laughing so hard she was gasping for air. “Hurry! You’ve got to see this!”
“See what?” She jerked the cape off the boy when he shot out the door. “What have you done?”
Charlotte ran to keep up with the kids as they bolted across the yard and into Jake’s house. Skidding to a stop in his den, she found him snoring peacefully on the sofa with a wild patch of Maggie’s hair plastered all over his head. She froze, her hand flying to her chest while trying to catch her breath. Knowing he was likely to erupt like a volcano when he awoke, she started inching backward, motioning for everyone to clear out, but it was too late.
As if sensing he wasn’t alone, Jake sat up, rubbing his eyes to bring the room back into focus. He yawned. “What’s up?”
&n
bsp; Charlotte glanced at the boys, expecting them to be as cracked up as Becky, but she realized from their horrified expressions, the professional pranksters had never had the nerve to pull such a stunt. Gone were her dreams of a perfect afternoon, shot down by her own flesh and blood. How could Maggie have done such a thing, and to him of all people?
From her vantage point, his head resembled a disheveled porcupine. She cringed, dreading what was to come. “Oh — ah, not much. But, we might have a slight problem.”
Jake yawned again, raking his fingers through his hair until he hit a snag. One look at his hands and an angry growl began reverberating deep in his chest. “What have you done to me!?”
“Now, Jake.” She backed up for safety. “Let’s try to be reasonable about this.”
“Reasonable?” He shot off the couch coming toward her holding out his hairy, red palms. “You want me to be reasonable? Just look at this!”
The accusation was aimed at her, and in a way, she felt responsible. The red hair was a dead giveaway. Behind her, the kids exploded with laughter, while she struggled to keep a straight face. It was hopeless, and she was soon laughing too hard to defend herself.
Jake stomped into the bathroom, where he braced his hands on the sink and stared into the mirror. “I’m ruined!”
Charlotte followed, wiping away the steady stream of tears running down her cheeks. He looked ridiculous.
“This isn’t funny!” he shouted, making the kids laugh even harder.
Charlotte tried to get a grip. “What happened?”
“You tell me. I took a nap, and now this!”
Ordinarily she would have been outraged he’d think her capable of such childish behavior, but she couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m sorry — but it’s funny.”
“Oh — you think?” he snapped. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying this, because I’m not… think you can sober up long enough to get it out?”
With a gentle push, she moved him out of her way and tore off a wad of toilet paper to dry her eyes. He seemed not to notice when she blew her nose and flushed the soggy tissue before closing the toilet lid. “Sit down so I can see what we’re up against.”
Jake squirmed, reaching up to scratch.
“Be still, you big baby.” She didn’t bother to hide her grin. “I think she used an entire bottle of glue. How could you possibly sleep through this plaster job?”
“I was tired, okay?” he said, pulling at the homemade toupee. “We’ve had some problems with the new store, and I’ve not been sleeping much at night.”
She hadn’t slept so well herself, but it was her problem, not his. She took a closer look at his hair. “If this is school glue, it should wash right out. Is there anything else Maggie could have gotten into?”
He thought for a moment. “There’s other glues in my shop, but Maggie wouldn’t do this.”
“Oh, believe it,” she said, with certainty. “Who else around here has this particular shade of red… other than yourself?”
He snarled. “Real funny.”
She grabbed towels, a comb, some shampoo, and a hand mirror before heading for the kitchen sink. Drinking a glass of water, she waited while Jake lathered his hair and rinsed. Unfortunately, when the towel came off, the red hair stayed on. His scrubbing proved to be a lost cause.
“We know it wasn’t school glue,” she said, the comb hitting a snag. “A solvent is the only thing strong enough to dissolve this.”
“You’re not using the stuff on my head!”
“Then you’ll have to sit still while I peel it off piece by piece,” she replied, her lips twitching.
He squirmed. “Go ahead. It feels like ants crawling on my scalp.”
“Don’t be so grumpy. It could be worse.”
“You wouldn’t be Little Miss Perky if you were wearing a mop. Why did she do this?”
Charlotte was at a loss. “Why does a five-year-old do anything?”
Peeling the glue from each individual hair shaft progressed at a snail’s pace. He continued to squirm and she knew it was taking too long when white flakes began popping up, giving a rippled effect to his tender scalp. “You’re beginning to look like a baby’s bottom with diaper rash.”
“It’s not funny.”
She snickered. “It is from where I’m standing.”
“You’re getting a malicious satisfaction from this, aren’t you?”
She patted his shoulder. “Come over to the sink, and let me rinse.”
Jake adjusted the water temperature then ducked his head under the faucet. At first he seemed relaxed, but he tensed when she pressed up against his side, reaching across his wide shoulders to massage his scalp under the running water. He was warm and solid, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew Maggie had to be punished for what she’d done.
With Jake at her mercy it was hard to concentrate. The lukewarm water continued to flow through her fingers, and for some strange reason, it reminded her of the dream she’d had during the night where he’d held her in his arms, and her problems had drifted away.
Lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice the sink clogging with the remaining hair. Jake forced himself up, trying to get out of her grasp, but not before she’d accidentally slammed his head against the faucet in her attempt to shut off the water.
His hand shot to the new bump. “What the…”
Charlotte threw a bath towel over his head to hide her embarrassment. What was she thinking? Her silly dreams had almost knocked the man out. “Sit down, and I’ll see what’s left.”
Following her orders, Jake towel-dried his hair. Her face glowed when she caught his reflection in the hand-held mirror. He winked. “Why so serious? I thought you were enjoying this.”
“But I didn’t mean to drown you.”
“I know.”
That was the problem. He knew too much. Concern darkened her green eyes. “This doesn’t look good at all.”
“How bad is it?” he asked, still communicating through the mirror.
“The glue is gone, but your scalp has a nasty burn. I’m calling Mark to see if he’ll come by to look at it.”
Jake started to protest, but she cut him short. “I know he’s a pediatrician, but it’s him or a trip to the emergency room.”
“I have a doctor.”
“But does he make house calls?” His angry expression was all the answer she needed. “I thought not… I’m calling Mark.”
After Charlotte hung up the phone, she went in search of Jake to let him know her brother-in-law was on his way. She found him in front of the bathroom mirror again, his skin a bright lobster-red. The remaining hair resembled the bristles on an old scrub brush.
“I look like a clown.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say a clown, exactly.” She stood at the doorway. Knowing the condition of his scalp, her conscience kicked in, making her feel bad for laughing. It was the first time she’d seen him out of sorts, proving someone as easy going as Jake could have a bad day. “I’m sorry Maggie did this to you.”
He spared her a quick glance. “And?”
“And, I’m sorry I laughed.”
A cynical smile touched his mouth. “You’d be more believable if you weren’t about to bust a gut.” He shook his head. “You’ve got a warped sense of humor.”
Amusement gleamed in her eyes, but she didn’t laugh.
“Do you know what Monday is?”
She shrugged. “The first workday of the week?”
“Smart aleck.” His expression snarled at her from the mirror. “It’s the ribbon cutting ceremony at our new men’s store at Four Corners. The local paper’s sending a photographer. I can’t show up like this.”
Placing her hands on his shoulders, she moved in for a closer look at the deep frown creasing his forehead. It made him two-toned. His downhearted expression was almost comical. “Maybe it’ll be better by then.”
The words hung between them. “Yeah — right,” he finally said. “Did you talk to your brothe
r-in-law?”
“He’s having dinner with his parents, but he’ll stop by my house first.”
“I hope he’s not as big a snob as his mother.”
Charlotte threw up her hands. “Whatever!”
“You weren’t here when she dropped off the girls!”
She turned with a vengeance. “Now you listen to me. Mark happens to be an excellent doctor, so be nice!”
He was fast on her heels going out the door. “Okay, I’ll be nice. Losing my hair was bad enough — now I look like a freak.”
She stopped. “You’re not a freak. I’ll grant, you look a bit ridiculous right now, but it’s not permanent.”
“Thanks!”
“What is it with men? You lose a little hair, and you’re automatically dog meat?”
He followed her into her kitchen and went straight for the coffeepot like he always did. “We’re not like that.”
“Sure you are. It’s as if the only thing a man’s got is his hair, and when it’s gone — poof, there’s nothing left.”
Jake drained the pot, lifting the cup toward her with a questioning glance. He waited for her to decline before taking a sip. “Did you take any soap out of the box before you climbed on?”
“I’m not preaching,” she said, amazed he could drink cold, day-old coffee. “I’m just stating a fact.”
“What about women?”
“We’re not half as vain as men. You’d be surprised how many men get facelifts.”
He opened the microwave to heat his coffee. “So wrinkles don’t bother you?”
Charlotte fought the urge to check her complexion in a mirror. Besides drinking plenty of water and avoiding too much sun exposure, she had a stringent cleansing routine she practiced faithfully. “I don’t have wrinkles.”
“Sure you do.” He put his hands on each side of her face. His thumbs slid upwards, slowly gliding over her cheekbones. “Cute little tiny ones — right here.”
Gazing into his royal blue eyes, Charlotte leaned forward, forgetting about his promise not to rush, but unfortunately he hadn’t. Instead of taking what she offered, his lips brushed her cheek as if marking the spot.
Hidden Hills Page 14
