Greg was unstable, too? Russ shuddered.
He studied Beth’s profile. The upturned nose, stubbornly rounded chin, soft lips, wisps of curling hair that had come loose from the ponytail. Desire flooded him. He was stunned by the intensity. How long had it been since a woman affected him this way? Long enough to make him realize he stayed to himself too much.
“Have you thought of putting your aunt in a residential care facility?”
Beth frowned. “Of course I’ve considered iL But I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Harriet lives in a world of her own. She entertains herself. You could find a place where she’d be happy.”
“I can’t ask her to leave the only home she’s ever known. We have talked about it…sometimes she likes the idea, then at other times… Well, you never know what Harry’s thinking.” She pushed open the car door, and it was obvious she wasn’t comfortable discussing the situation. He had no right to pry.
“Look, I appreciate your help—”
“And you really hate to admit that.” He smiled. “Forget it. Call it repayment for the enchilada breakfast.”
“Deal.” She extended her hand, and they shook on it. He held her hand until she gently pulled away.
He got out of the car, unloaded the awkward box, and carried it up the steps.
“Just leave it on the porch.”
Russ leaned the box against the house, and rubbed his knee. The joint was beginning to ache. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his running suit and glanced around the porch. A glider and several metal lawn chairs occupied the cramped space. Assorted sizes of bird feeders and wind chimes lined the peeling eaves. Every tiny breeze brought on a cacophony of sound.
He glanced at Beth, something he’d been trying to avoid. She looked at him curiously, as if wondering why he was still there. He wondered that himself. Maybe he was the crazy, but he wanted to ask her out. Dinner, a movie. Something. The door opened, and he turned to see Harry, dressed in a frothy pink ballerina tutu.
“Why are you standing out here in the cold?” Aunt Harry demanded.
Russ realized he was staring. Aunt Harry’s pinkish gray hair was wound up in assorted colors of curlers clipped haphazardly all over her head. She held a dripping mop in her right hand.
“I’m cleaning house,” she explained as Beth slipped around her to go inside the house. “Come in, Junior, and have a cup of coffee to warm up.”
Before Russ could protest, Aunt Harry grasped his arm and quickly drew him inside. She slammed the door, and locked it.
“You sit right there. We’ll have coffee in the parlor today.”
“Aunt Harry, Russ is busy. He doesn’t have time for coffee.”
“Russ who?”
Russ caught Beth’s eyes. “I can stay a few minutes.”
His eyes rested on a Christmas tree that wasn’t there earlier. The fully decorated tree was at least eight feet tall and sitting in a child’s red toy wagon in the center of the living room.
“Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“Aunt Harry keeps the tree in the wagon so it can easily be moved into place,” Beth explained. “She stores it in the spare bedroom after the holidays.”
He wanted to erase the stricken look from her face. She was obviously embarrassed. “Sounds smart to me.”
“Here you go.” Aunt Harry returned, handing him a cup of steaming coffee. “And I brought some of my persimmon bread. You’ll love it.”
“Aunt Harriet, I’ll help you roll that tree back to the bedroom. Let’s wait until after Halloween to put it up, okay?”
“Of course! Why would you even think of putting up the tree today? We haven’t had Thanksgiving, either. Children!” She bustled back into the kitchen singing “Jingle Bells.”
IT WAS CLOSE to one when Russ walked home, his knee complaining with every step. Balancing the thermos of soup Harriet insisted he take, he shoved open the front door of his brother’s house and immediately found himself flat on his back.
“Aghhh,” he growled as a coarse, wet tongue swiped his face. “Get off me you mangy mutt!”
Sniffing the container of soup, Jasper backed off, allowing Russ to get up.
“Give me that.”
Russ jerked the thermos out from under the dog’s nose and retreated to the kitchen before Jasper could attack him again. Why indeed did David have such a big mutt? Dave, a professor, had received a grant from a large university to study Mayan architecture in Mexico. When Russ had first arrived at the house, all he’d found was that note on the dining table: “Caught an earlier flight. Astor’s—” or as it turned out Jasper’s “—in the backyard. See you in a few weeks.”
Expecting a normal pet, Russ had opened the back door only to be knocked flat by a monstrous dog. Jasper had planted his saucer-size feet in the middle of Russ’s chest and “grinned” at him with canine teeth the size of a saber-toothed tiger’s. Black eyes had stared him down for a full two minutes before Russ had convinced himself that this was, after all, just a dog.
In the days following, the phrase just a dog had become a litany as Jasper had galloped his way through the house tipping over lamps and tables at will, chewing holes in Russ’s clothes before he had unpacked them, and attacking him any time he’d caught him unaware. In short, Jasper had made Russ’s life miserable. How David and Carol could put up with the menace he didn’t know.
Jasper stood in the middle of the floor looking with baleful eyes at the soup container.
“Get over it, mutt,” Russ muttered.
He had no idea how he was going to warm the soup since the house didn’t have a microwave. Most nights he just ate out. He’d also learned, the hard way, to keep his right side to the dog in order to protect the injured knee.
Popping open a soft drink can, he leaned against the cabinet. By the first of the year, he should be at his new job, a position he’d pursued for a long time. He’d enjoyed working in the field, and, if his record was any indication, he’d been good at it. But being in Washington, a city electric with politics and power—that was what he wanted. Still, recuperating in Morning Sun had taught him one thing, though: small-town life wasn’t half bad. He could get used to the slower pace.
As a kid, he’d thought working as a government agent would be one hell of an adventure. His background in athletics and his high scores on college entrance exams had opened doors for him. That combination of physical and mental skill had served him well, advancing him faster than he’d ever hoped. Now, he was ready to be an administrator, and was ready for the responsibility of supervising others. All these years, strict self-discipline had been his mantra; it would be tough to accept anything less from his men.
A low growl drew his attention back to Jasper who stood with his chin resting on the cabinet top.
“Is that your way of saying you want something to eat?”
Now he was talking to the dog. He really had to get something to do besides jog around the block twice a day. Maybe he would buy a television, and a stereo. A microwave, too. He could donate them to the Salvation Army when he left.
An hour later with a heating pad wrapped around his throbbing knee, he managed to get down half a Big Mac he’d dashed out to get before Jasper connived the rest of it away from him.
“This is not a life,” he said, leaning his head against the back of the chair.
He’d never had so much free time on his hands, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. He’d already checked out the local theater. Two movies. He saw one, and couldn’t stomach the other. Earlier in the week, he’d run across a couple of mystery paperbacks at the Super Mart that sounded intriguing, but he found so many holes in the plots he’d given up reading both after the first few chapters. Maybe when he retired, he’d write a book of his own.
Jasper restlessly roamed the room, his toenails clicking against the hardwood floor. When he settled at the front door, he pierced Russ with a stare. “You ate, and you have water. Stop looking at me like I ate your d
inner.” Still the dog watched him.
“I suppose you’re waiting for your nightly walk.”
With that, the dog bounded to his feet and ran from Russ to the front door, prancing excitedly.
With grim resignation, Russ laid the heating pad aside and shrugged into a parka.
“Come on, mutt.”
He snapped the lead on Jasper’s collar. He might have the leash in hand, but Jasper was definitely the one who decided where they went.
After propelling Russ through the door, Jasper headed for a favorite tree, nearly jerking Russ’s shoulder out of the socket. A burst of pain exploded in his knee, and he stumbled as the dog took a detour through the bushes lining the next-door neighbor’s yard.
Gritting his teeth, Russ beat his way through the thicket, sending the spiny limbs whipping back. He threw up his arm in time to keep from being slapped silly.
“Mutt,” he muttered, his breath white in the cold night air.
Jasper loped along at a good pace for a couple of blocks before taking another detour to explore garbage cans. By the time he got the dog headed back to the house, Russ was in agony and ready to call it quits.
“We’re going home, mutt.”
The house seemed even emptier than when he’d left. If he could think of anyone to call he would have, and he hated talking on the phone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out with friends, a woman. Beth popped into his mind. His schedule had been too hectic for too long. The last woman he’d dated had finally told him she’d had enough dates canceled at the last minute and official phone calls in the middle of dinner.
Tossing his parka on the sofa, he collapsed onto the recliner, groaning with relief as he elevated his feet and wrapped the heating pad around his knee again.
Security. It wasn’t a place. For him it was a healthy money market account, a good investment portfolio—a little aggressive, but principally conservative—a savings account, some CDs and IRAs, and a government pension.
He could imagine what security meant for Beth. For her, it would be the familiarity of the home she’d grown up in, her family, the streets she’d walked since she was a kid, her children going to the same school as she had.
At the furniture store, at least a dozen people had waved at her, calling greetings when she got out of the car. Probably, by now, everyone in town knew she’d returned the table and why. Even more than that, they knew she got what she wanted.
Scooting lower in the chair, he readjusted the heating pad around his knee. Jasper raised his head off his paws, watching with accusing eyes.
Scratching behind the dog’s ears, Russ muttered, “Ah, you know, mutt. It’s a strange world.”
3
RUSS WAS BREATHING in ragged gasps by the time he’d jogged around the corner and was heading toward Dave’s house. The air had a serious bite to it. His lungs stung from the exertion, and his leg hurt like blue blazes.
He slogged up the street, glancing toward Beth’s house as he approached. He always called it that. Not the Morris house as most people called it, but Beth’s house. What would he be doing now if he’d married Beth Davis? It was the first time the thought occurred to him. Working in Washington? Naw, he’d be living right here in Morning Sun, and that wouldn’t be all bad, either. The town might not be the capital, but its many appeals were growing on him, day by day.
The woman just on his mind was standing on the porch railing, adjusting a plastic pumpkin. He couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated any kind of holiday. Or the last time he’d been so acutely aware of a woman who was continuing to ignore him.
Aunt Harry was a charming eccentric, but how could anyone live with that eccentricity day in day out?
Week after week.
Year after year.
Aw, what the hey? He’d say good-morning. It was a harmless enough gesture of goodwill. Picking up speed, he crossed the lawn. “His.” he panted, jogging lightly in place.
“Hi.”
Beth finished tying a black cat at the corner of the porch. The wind had wreaked havoc with the crepe paper. When Aunt Harry unexpectedly flung open the front door, Beth grabbed for the railing.
“Russ! Nice to see you!” The old woman’s eyes lit with delight and Russ was glad to see she was lucid this morning. “Beth, everything looks so nice! Did you get all the black cats—yes, looks like you did. Russ, I have some hot cider on the stove. Come in!”
Beth shot him a warning look that clearly indicated she wanted him to refuse the invitation. Sorry, sweetheart, right now company sounded better than going back to an empty house. “Cider? Sounds good, Harriet, thanks.”
Turning away, Beth busied herself hanging another witch.
“Coming, Beth?” Aunt Harry asked.
Beth slid off the railing and folded the stepladder. “I shouldn’t be taking time to drink cider if I expect to get the decorations hung by dark.”
“Nonsense. There’s no hurry. Come inside and warm up.” Harry turned to go back in as Russ reached for the ladder.
“I got that.” He took it from Beth’s hands, broke the brace, and collapsed the ladder. “Where do you want it?”
Beth motioned toward the door. “Set it inside the door. I’ll need it later.”
He smiled as he limped past her, hoping she’d sweeten a bit. She looked cute this morning. Her hair was loose and ruffled, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, and her cheeks tinged rosy by the cold wind. “Thought you’d be in church this morning.”
“Going to the later service.”
She held the door open as he maneuvered the ladder through the open doorway. Tresor. She was wearing Tresor this morning. He’d bought his ex-fiancée a bottle two Christmases ago. Good money down the drain. He set the ladder down and started to step around it.
“You sure you don’t want me to put this away for you?”
“On second thought, just store it in the closet under the stairs,” she said, avoiding his eyes.
“Ah, the bottomless closet under the stairs.”
A smile surfaced briefly. At least she was warming a bit in spite of herself. At this stage, anything was progress.
He stored the ladder, his voice muffled in the tight space. “I’ve seen Halloween decorations come out, Thanksgiving decorations will be next. Let me guess—Christmas decorations are…here in the closet under the stairs?”
Ah, another smile. This one almost a grin. “Wrong. They’re in the attic. Except for the tree in the wagon, of course. Let me have your jacket.”
He shrugged out of the hooded outerwear, stuffing his gloves in the pockets as he studied Beth. No woman had the right to look that pretty on a lazy Sunday morning. Back off, he told himself, since Beth wasn’t exactly chompin’ at the bit to renew their old friendship.
“Here you go.” Aunt Harry set three large pumpkin mugs on the table when they entered the kitchen, her cow slippers slapping against the linoleum as she bustled around the room.
“Something smells good.” Russ rubbed his hands together, glancing toward the oven where the delicious smell was coming from.
“I have pumpkin bread in the oven—or did I put parsley in that batter—no, it could have been nutmeg….” Harriet paused, thinking, then flung her arms wide. “Well, who gives a rip! Whatever it is, it’ll be done in ten minutes.”
Rolling her eyes, Beth sank into the chair opposite Russ and picked up the morning paper. Her expression was dead serious. What was it about him that made her so antsy? He was single, considered in some circles to be a good catch, so why was Beth shying away from him? He was giving her every opportunity to show some interest.
Stirring sugar into his coffee, his eyes roamed around the cozy kitchen. The old house was in bad need of remodeling, the kitchen had way too many appliances, and what’s with all those loaves of bread? At least twenty were lined up on the peeling counter. Harriet must be in a cooking frenzy.
Dave had mentioned that the old woman sent over her leftovers every week. He’d describe
d strange meat dishes, bizarre casseroles, ghastly pies. Dave had admitted to feeding the hodgepodge to Jasper, but had also mentioned how nice it was to know there were still people like Harriet around. Not many neighbors looked after one another, anymore. When Carol had been down with the flu, Harriet had brought chicken soup every day—or something that had resembled chicken soup.
“So, where is David off to this time?” Aunt Harry asked.
“Mexico. Something about Mayan ruins.”
“Dave and Carol do the most interesting things. Traveling all over the globe, discovering how people lived a thousand years ago. Why, half the time I have no idea what they’re talking about.”
Beth laughed, and Russ was instantly drawn to her. Her smile hadn’t changed. Her eyes were more serious, but still the clearest green he had ever seen.
“You interested in travel?”
“I think Dave and Carol live a charmed life,” she said softly.
“Charmed? You call being gone from home all the time, charmed?”
“Don’t you? They travel all over the world, see new things, experience life to its fullest.”
Dave and Carol’s life might sound good, but Russ knew the price to be paid for adventure. He’d just about had his fill of delayed flights, impersonal hotel rooms, bad food, and in his particular case, lonely nights. Beth had what life was all about right here in Morning Sun; she just didn’t know it.
He smiled. “Well, you should have married Dave. I always thought you and he hit it off.”
Beth frowned and shook her head. “David and me? We never dated.”
“No? I thought you did. You were always hanging out together.”
Beth reached for her cup of cider. “We were in the same group occasionally and of course, we were together in joumalism class. He was a nice-looking guy, but when Carol transferred to the school our senior year, Dave ceased to realize anyone else existed.”
Yes, Dave had it bad for Carol. Lucky Dave. Married eight years now, and the bloom was still on the rose.
Fruitcakes and Other Leftovers & Christmas, Texas Style Page 4
