by Arlene James
Stunned and exasperated, Reeves resorted to the only method that he knew of to cope. He pulled her up and sternly marched her outside to the car, wailing like a banshee. Saddened that their day out had come to this, Reeves drove back to Chatam House in pained silence, letting her wail and rage until, exhausted, she calmed to mere snuffles.
No sooner did he set her feet on the graveled drive, however, than she bolted, wailing anew. The aunties finally managed to calm her. Reeves knew this because some time after he left them to it, her cries finally faded, and at dinner she, like his aunts, was glum and quiet.
It tore at Reeves heart to think that they had not made as much progress as he had believed, so much so that he actually thought about calling up Anna to discuss it with her. But no, that was the sort of thing one discussed with a wife and partner or, at the very least, a trusted friend and advisor. He would figure this out on his own, somehow, God willing. But how? Oh, Father in heaven, how?
Chapter Seven
Sunday brought little of the angst and frustration that Reeves expected. Gilli morosely donned the dress that he chose for her without serious complaint, though she bemoaned the lack of ruffles on her tights. For his part, he made sure that the dress fit comfortably. He had to bite his tongue to keep from admonishing her not to repeat that upside down business, but in the end it did not seem necessary as the twins were waiting for her when she trudged sullenly through her Sunday school room door. He stood outside the window and watched her for a few minutes, turning away only when she giggled at something one of her new friends said.
He turned half expecting Anna to be there with some sarcastic quip on the tip of her tongue, but he was alone in the hallway except for a couple dropping off their child at the six-year-olds’ classroom. He moved that way before he even realized what he was doing. At the door, he heard himself asking if Anna Burdett was teaching today.
“No, she’s not part of our team,” a young woman told him. “We trade off, every other Sunday, except for the directors. Would you like me to ask them where you could find her?”
He shook his head, already moving away. “It’s not important. I’ll catch up with her later. Thanks.”
Why, he wondered suddenly, instead of looking for the right moment to speak to her about attending worship had he not simply invited her to come to church with him and Gilli? What a simple solution that would have been! On the other hand, inviting Anna to church might presage more than mere Christian concern. He was afraid that he was coming to like her too much.
With a sudden rush of insight, he saw all the ways he had employed to keep from thinking of her. The errands, the meals, television, even arguing with Gilli. He had abdicated a sacred responsibility out of selfish fear.
Guilt swamped him. He owed Anna; not only that, he owed God. The two felt inextricably intwined.
That thought stayed with him throughout the remainder of the day and on into the next morning. Recalling their conversation about her dissatisfaction with her job, he took the time to do some research online concerning opportunities for graphic artists. What he found surprised him, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the information, even when he returned to Chatam House that evening to again find Anna’s vehicle parked in the drive.
The rich, meaty aroma of Hilda’s roast beef welcomed him as he entered, as usual, through the side door. Inhaling deeply, he whispered a prayer of thanksgiving for the feast to come and moved on toward the central hall. Even before he reached the intersection, he could hear Gilli giggling in the sunroom. Making a sharp left, he went straight there.
The aunties occupied their usual seats, Mags and Od on identical chaises, Hypatia in the chair across the way. Next to Hypatia, on her right, sat Anna. Gilli lay draped belly down across Anna’s lap.
“Oh! Here’s your daddy now,” Odelia said, beaming up at Reeves.
Today’s earrings glittered like the moon and stars. Actually, on closer inspection, they were moons and stars, blue and silver, radiating outward in small, spiral galaxies. The colors perfectly matched her denim jumper and the silvery satin blouse beneath it. Reeves grinned. Auntie Od never failed to delight, bless her.
“Hi, Daddy,” Gilli greeted offhandedly. Sliding off Anna’s lap to loop an arm around Anna’s neck, she announced, “Anna stayin’ for dinner.”
“Is she?” He forced a smile, feeling a bit off kilter. His heart seemed to be beating too hard. “Someone must have told her that Hilda’s serving a roast for dinner tonight.”
Anna chuckled. “Let’s just say that my nose works perfectly, so no one had to ask me twice.”
Hypatia tilted her head back to look up at him. “You have time to change if you’d like, dear.”
“I think I’ll do that,” he decided.
The women went back to their conversation, and he made a quick escape up the stairs, where he traded his suit for jeans and a burgundy pullover. Anna, it seemed, was becoming a fixture around here. Not even the aunties were immune to her quirky charm. He froze, a sense of déjà vu coming over him.
Suddenly he was back in high school, listening to everyone laugh at Anna Miranda’s latest nonsense—and secretly burning up with envy. He could never be that clever, that careless, that uninhibited. He could only be stolid, responsible…confused. His mother had once called him “self-contained,” as if that was a good thing and did not separate him somehow from everyone else.
He was heartily sick of being contained within himself, bored beyond bearing with the passionless existence he’d created. It was, he realized, how he had protected himself from the chaos of his childhood and the reason he had chosen Marissa, a creature of excessive passions. And wasn’t Anna the same?
No, he decided, she wasn’t. Her behavior with Gilli demonstrated that, as did her willingness to toil at a job where she was not appreciated, drive a battered old jalopy and accommodate three adorably eccentric old women. Perhaps she was stubborn and clever and glib, but she was also generous and principled in a way that he had never expected.
After stomping into a comfortable pair of old loafers, he hurried back down the stairs to plop into a chair placed at an angle to Anna’s. Gilli had stretched out next to Mags on the chaise in the interim and was in the midst of a long story about “her” cat, claiming that it lived in the magnolia tree and a hole in the hedge that rimmed the property on three sides. Mags said that she had seen the thin gray cat around the place several times lately. Hypatia, who had an aversion to cats, shuddered.
Carol came in to announce that dinner was ready, and they all trooped in to take seats at the massive dining table. They made a motley crew, Mags in her scruffy usual, Od at her outrageous best, Hypatia fit for a diplomatic mission in her pearls and elegant suit, him in his jeans and Gilli in a long-sleeved T-shirt and baggy, faded pink pants just a tad too short despite the ruffles around the hems. Anna looked wonderful in black boots, a long, slender black skirt and a black suede vest worn over a soft white blouse with voluminous sleeves cuffed at the wrists. She proved not only a lovely dinner companion but also a very amiable one.
“Thanks to you three and your fund-raiser, my stock has quite risen at the print shop,” she said in reply to a question from Hypatia concerning her job. “Why, I suspect that if I hadn’t spilled coffee on Dennis’s estimates for a new project today I would be enjoying unprecedented job security just now.” Cocking her head, she narrowed her eyes. “No, wait, if it’s intentional, that’s pouring, isn’t it?” Grinning, she added, “Spilling is accidental.”
Odelia twittered behind her hand then asked, “Was it really intentional?”
“Absolutely,” Anna said without the least regret. “It was either that, watch a client get unintentionally hosed, or attempt to point out Dennis’s glaring mistakes to him.”
“Attempt?” Reeves echoed.
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Hard to see a mistake when you cannot be wrong.”
“Ah. I see. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”
“Must be tough when it’s the boss who’s like that,” Mags surmised.
Anna shrugged. “Howard and I worked out a system to deal with him.”
“Who’s Howard?” Mags asked.
“Coworker,” she answered succinctly, spearing a piece of browned potato. “I spill—or rather, pour—and when Dennis roars, Howard runs in with a fresh estimate sheet. Dennis rarely even notices the corrections.” She ate the potato, musing, “I look at my job like a cat and mouse game. Unfortunately I keep on winding up as the mouse.”
“What’s cat-n-moufe game?” Gilli wanted to know, concentrating, as usual, on the bread, in this case, hot, fluffy yeast rolls.
Anna shifted slightly to address her. “You know, cartoon stuff, where the cat’s always chasing the mouse, and the mouse always manages to get away.”
Gilli nodded, laughing. “Oh, yeah. That.”
“Hey, did you ever see the one about the skillets?” Anna asked.
She went on to give them a hilarious blow-by-blow account. It went on for a good ten minutes, and no sooner had the laughter died down than Gilli asked, in all innocence, “What’s a skillet?”
Anna traded a look with Reeves, a silent communication that felt oddly intimate. He felt the strangest impulse to reach out and take her hand beneath the table, but then, eyes sparkling, she tucked her chin to hide her silent laughter while Hypatia calmly answered.
“It’s a pan for cooking in, and much too heavy for a real cat or mouse to lift.”
Gilli nodded, offering sagely, “Cartoons is just pretend.”
“Indeed, they are,” Hypatia replied while everyone else continued to hide smiles.
“What are your favorite cartoons?” Anna asked Gilli, getting a mangled mishmash of description and titles in return. The aunties were lost.
Anna, who seemed quite well informed on the subject, went on to explain and describe each and every one of Gilli’s favorite programs. It became apparent to Reeves that the nanny had allowed Gilli to view much more television than he’d have preferred. He made a mental note to police her viewing habits more carefully. A few moments later he noticed that she was nodding over her plate. They had stayed at the table far longer than normal, but it was not yet Gilli’s bedtime.
“She refused to take a nap today,” Hypatia informed him softly.
“Sat out on the kitchen doorstep with a bowl of milk all day long waiting for that cat,” Odelia explained.
“Nearly caught it, too,” Mags added proudly.
Reeves got to her feet. “I’d better take her up now.”
Gilli roused at that, mumbling, “Anna come.”
Reeves looked to Anna. Without even the slightest hesitation, she pushed back her chair, dropping her napkin beside her plate.
“Thank you for a lovely dinner,” Anna said to the aunties. “I’ll say good-night now, but I’ll see you soon. I’ll bring the other print goods over as they are finished.” She followed him around the table toward Gilli. Bending, he scooped Gilli into his arms. She wrapped all four limbs around him, laying her head on his shoulder.
“Good night, dears,” Hypatia said. “Reeves, I trust you’ll see Anna out?”
“Uh, sure.”
More matchmaking? he wondered, carrying Gilli toward the central hall. He didn’t mind as much as he might have.
Anna fell into step beside him. They climbed the stairs side by side, then Reeves led the way along the landing to the open door of the suite. There he motioned Anna to go ahead, knowing that the modern amenities of the suite in this house of antiques would be something of a surprise to her. She didn’t try to hide her curiosity or appreciation as she looked around the comfortable sitting room with its cream walls, puffy matching leather couch, thick burgundy rugs and flat screen television hanging over the mantle of the ornate fireplace, all accented with touches of spring green and gold.
He carried Gilli into her bedchamber. As in his own bedroom at the opposite end of the sitting room, the burgundy carried over into the carpeting and drapes here with pale French Provincial furniture and muted spring green linens softening the effect. Only the stuffed animals on the bed, toys scattered around the room in various containers and stacks of books on the dresser identified this as a child’s room.
He sat Gilli on the side of the tall bed then went to pull her pajamas from the dresser. Anna moved in and began to undress the weary child. Once she was suitably garbed for bed, Reeves urged her into the small private bath. Freshly washed and brushed, Gilli made no protest as Reeves lifted her up and laid her on the pillows, but as soon as the covers were folded beneath her chin, she began to plead for a story.
“Aw, Gilli, you’re exhausted,” he argued. “Let’s just say our prayers and get to sleep.”
“Pleeease, Daddy. Anna will read. Won’t you, Anna?”
“I have a better idea,” Anna said, going to the dresser to quickly rifle through the books. Finding one she liked, she returned to sit against the headboard and gather Gilli against her. “Let’s make up a story.” She opened the book and showed Gilli the first picture. “Hmm,” she said, “this bunny looks lost to me. Where do you think she was going? A birthday party, maybe?”
Gilli’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, a birthday!”
“I wonder where she’ll wind up,” Anna murmured, turning the page.
Reeves stood there, listening to the two of them spin a simple story based on the pictures alone. It was nothing like the actual story, which Gilli knew by heart. Why, she could practically recite it, and for that reason he had steadfastly refused to read the thing for days. Now here was Anna patiently, happily breathing new life into one of Gilli’s favorite books, and all it took was a little time, attention and imagination.
Gulping, Reeves realized that he normally rushed through the bedtime routine, his mind on the instant when he could take his own ease in private. Yet, what did he do as soon as he closed the door to this room? Too often, he began to dwell on the problems awaiting him at work or rehashed his many failures. Alone and lonely, he routinely cried out to God, begging to be made a better father, nephew, boss, employee, servant, whatever, never facing the fact until now that he failed because he hurried through the most important moments.
Forgive me, Lord, he thought. Then he sat down on the other side of the bed and joined in the story.
Gilli finally giggled herself to a happy ending. Anna closed the book and, following Reeves’s example, dropped a kiss on the little curly-top’s head. Gilli immediately folded her hands and started to pray.
“God is great, and God is good,” the girl began. Anna smiled, for Gilli had begun the mealtime blessing. With a nudge from her father, she started over. “Now I lay me down to sleep…”
After the usual rhyme, Gilli began to thank God. Her list was long, including her daddy, the aunties, grandparents, cousins, many other family members, toys, dolls, skates, books…Eventually she got to the whole earth, sun, sky, trees and so forth. At the very end, she shook Anna to the core.
“And thank You for Anna ’cause You love her, too, and she’s my goodest friend. Amen.”
“Amen,” Reeves echoed, but Anna found that she couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat.
Silently, she watched Gilli snuggle down and close her eyes. Slipping from the room, she keenly felt Reeves on her heels. It was as if Gilli’s prayer had awakened a new and sharper awareness of him in Anna. She stood, lost, in the sumptuous sitting room while he quietly pulled the door to Gilli’s room closed. Then he completely destroyed her with a casual touch, lightly sliding his hands over the knobs of her shoulders and down her arms about midway to the elbow. Those few inches of contact warmed, stunned and scared her. She felt fourteen again, craving his attention and understanding. She wanted him to like her, to approve of her, to love her.
Thank You for Anna ’cause You love her, too, and she’s my goodest friend.
Anna knew intellectually that God loved everyone, but she had never felt loved. Why, she wondered, was that,
and how pathetic was it that her “goodest” friend these days was a three-year-old child? On Sunday, Anna had dropped by the Elkanors’ place with gifts, a small framed drawing and a bag of disposable diapers, for the new baby. She’d been gratified by the drawing’s reception. The proud parents had both exclaimed over it and carefully examined every detail, but watching them with their baby, Anna had felt very much as if she were on the outside looking in, as usual.
Somehow, at this moment she felt even more isolated than ever, isolated by a yearning for the impossible. Every moment at dinner she had been aware that she was not a true part of the family that gathered around the table, so she had done what she always did. She had teased and joked and showed off. She’d cast surreptitious glances at the man beside her like the lovesick fourteen-year-old she had once been and tried to read the answers to her hopes in every word and gesture.
She stood there in that lovely sitting room and admitted that her foolish heart had long ago set itself on something that could never be hers, and the pain of that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. It was always best, Anna had found, to get as far away from disappointment as quickly as possible, but the instant she took a step through the door onto the broad central landing, Reeves spoke.
“I’ll walk you down.”
“Oh.” She half turned. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’re tired and—”
“I told Aunt Hypatia that I would see you out,” he insisted, taking her by the arm.
Making a smile, Anna let him steer her along the landing to the top of the stairs. As they were descending the broad curving steps, he spoke again. “Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” she cracked.
He went on as if he hadn’t even heard her. “Don’t you miss going to church? Worship, I mean.”
The question took her so off guard that she blurted the first thing that came into her head. “Why should I?”
