“My point exactly,” Carrie said. “That long hair ages you, hon. Go to a salon and get a more contemporary style. You won’t believe the difference. And neither will Liam. You’ll wow him, Jude, I know it.”
“I don’t even know where to go anymore,” Jude said. “The last beauty shop I went to closed down. And if I go alone, I’ll probably chicken out.”
“Call Aurora. She’ll go with you.”
“Aurora?” It wasn’t a bad idea. Jude liked Aurora. “I guess I could.”
“Great. Now hang up with me and call her. It’s almost ten o’clock. You want to have your new look by the time Wesley gets out of school.”
Jude disconnected. A new look at the age of thirty-two. She wasn’t too old to consider a makeover, she knew that. She took her phone back out of her pocket and called Aurora.
“Feel like going to the beauty parlor with me?” she said when Aurora answered.
“Sure. I’m not doing anything. I could use a trim and gray touch-up myself. Your salon or mine?”
“Ah... I don’t really have one.”
“No problem. I’ll call mine and make two appointments. Pick me up in a half hour unless I call you back.”
“Sounds good.”
That kind of quick decision-making, lack of chitchat, was one thing that endeared Aurora to Jude. Their entire day had just been planned out in under a minute. Jude hopped in her truck and headed toward Fox Creek.
* * *
“I WANT THE braid to go to Locks of Love,” Jude said to a stylist an hour later. “Someone who has had chemo can use it.”
“That’s a nice thing to do,” the young man said. “I’ll see that it’s donated.” He finished unbraiding Jude’s hair and ran his fingers through the mass of twists and curls. “Oh my, this is some head of hair.”
“What do you think?” Jude didn’t want a short cut, but she’d made up her mind to listen to the stylist—within reason.
“Some layering,” he said. “Shoulder length at the sides to accentuate those gorgeous cheekbones, longer in back. That way you can still put it up if you want to.”
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes as if she were sitting in a theater watching a horror movie. “Okay, let’s do it. Cut.”
He wound the long strands into a loose gather, wrapped a piece of tape around the top and bottom and cut. Jude’s hair fell into his hands in one flowing bundle. “It’s done,” he said, putting the ponytail in a plastic bag. “I’ll bet they get two or three wigs out of this.”
Jude had expected to experience remorse, at least regret at saying goodbye to something that had been a part of her for so long. Oddly she felt only a lightness, a freedom.
“Now we style,” the man said.
Aurora, sitting next to Jude with color product on her roots, smiled. “It’s only hair, Jude. How many times in my life have I had to say something similar to calm my own nerves? ‘It’s only money, Aurora.’ I’ve used that one too many times to remember.”
Jude smiled.
A half hour later, Jude’s cut was nearly complete. A stylist was beginning on Aurora. “Take a little off the top,” Aurora said. “And the sides, and the crown and the back.” She hooted, looked at Jude who was getting ready for a blow-dry. “I never know how far I’ll go until I sit in one of these chairs,” she said. They left the salon poorer but happy. Jude’s hair swung about her shoulders in a breezy, easy way. Aurora’s curls had been temporarily tamed into a sleeker style, which she hoped would last at least a couple of days.
“We won’t look like this for long,” Jude said. “The first shampoo will see to that, but for now, I think we’ve earned a late lunch and some good English tea.”
* * *
“I WANT TO go, TOO,” Wesley said. “I haven’t had supper, and Liam is my friend more than he is yours.”
“I know he’s your friend, honey,” Jude responded. “But you don’t want to go tonight. We’re going to talk business. You’d be totally bored. And Rosie is having hot dogs, which you love.”
Wesley thought a moment, seemed to appraise his mother from top to bottom, taking in her low-cut boots, simple black dress slacks and short-sleeved red-and-black sweater. “Is that why you got your hair cut? To talk business with Liam?”
Smart little guy. Wesley didn’t miss much. Talking business had nothing to do with it, but she would never admit to that. “I got my hair cut because I wanted to.” She touched the stylish barrette that held one side of hair back from her face. The stylist had talked her into the indulgence. “And you haven’t said anything about it. Do you like the haircut?”
“Yeah. You look pretty.”
Jude smiled. One male down. One to go.
When a knock sounded on the door, Wes ran to open it. “Hi, Liam,” he said when his good friend came in the door in tan chinos, a brown sweater and a tan jacket. “I got an A on my arithmetic test today.”
Liam held up the flat of his hand. “High five, buddy. That’s super.”
“And we had a dentist come to school and talk to all the first graders about how to brush our teeth. And gums are important, too. Let me see yours.”
Liam glanced at Jude. His gaze held for a warm, appreciative moment before he drew back his lips.
“They look good,” Wesley said. “Pink like they’re supposed to be.”
“Good to know.” He returned his attention to Jude. “Wow, you look fabulous. Is it a cliché to say, ‘I like what you’ve done with your hair’?”
“Even if it is, I’ll take the compliment. First real haircut in five years.” She wished she could take back the comment as soon as she said it. Liam knew that five years was a reference to when Paul died, when a big part of her life had stopped.
As of this moment, no more of those references for the rest of the night. Jude felt feminine and pretty and modern. She felt warm as the object of Liam’s gaze, and she would enjoy this feeling for as long as she could.
“We need coats,” Liam said. “It’s chilly out there.”
Once they’d bundled up, Liam leaned close to Jude and said, “If our date had anything to do with the haircut, I’m surprised, flattered and blown away.”
She thought about saying she’d been contemplating a haircut for a long time, but why lie? So she said, “Maybe a little.”
Wesley, several steps ahead of them, turned around. “You’re taking me to Grandpa’s. We’re having hot dogs. I bet your supper won’t be as good.”
“Probably not,” Liam conceded. “Be sure to bring your mom a doggy bag.”
Wesley laughed, hopped in Liam’s car, and they took off for the main house.
* * *
MARTIN OPENED THE door when they arrived. “Could this stunning woman be my daughter? Honey, you look great.”
She laughed and thanked him.
Martin enjoyed seeing his daughter this happy. Admitting that he might have been wrong about not approving of a romance between Jude and Liam, and that Aurora might have been right, he hoped this date would be the start of something important for Jude. “Let Wesley stay here tonight,” Martin said. “That way you don’t have to rush back. We could use some sleepover time.”
“There’s school tomorrow, Daddy.”
“I know. I’ll make sure he’s in bed by nine. You can bring a change of clothes in the morning and take him to school.”
For some odd reason, she looked to Liam.
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” he said.
“You two have fun,” Martin said, and announced that their hot dogs were ready.
Fifteen minutes later, Wes had wolfed down three frankfurters and a healthy helping of fries.
“What’ll we do now, Grandpa?” Wesley asked. “Do you want to play checkers?”
Martin had already come up with a
n idea. “Why don’t we go out for ice cream?” he suggested. “How does that sound?”
“Super.”
A few minutes later, after Martin had given instructions to Maggie’s nurse, he and Wesley were passing the path of white Christmas lights that led to the bed-and-breakfast.
“It’s like a fairyland,” Wesley said.
“Sure is. Aurora loves Christmas.” He noticed a car blinker on the vehicle approaching them. The car slowed and a window buzzed down. It was Aurora. “Where are you two headed?” she asked.
“We’re going for ice cream,” Wes hollered. “You can come, too.”
“Thanks, hon, but I’ve got to watch my waistline.”
Martin wasn’t usually an impulsive man, but an easy invitation just seemed to slip from his lips. “Why don’t you come, Aurora? It’s not like I don’t owe you for a few dozen baked goods you’ve sent over to the house.”
She smiled. “Well, okay. I don’t have anything on my schedule tonight. No guests.” She pulled up to her front porch, parked and slid into the backseat of Martin’s car. To Martin, she looked like a little snow bunny with her fur collar and earmuffs. Martin noticed her hair right away.
“What’s with you ladies today?” he said. “This must have been beautifying day.”
“Jude and I went to the salon together. Nothing like a little moral support.” She removed her earmuffs, displaying the hair that hadn’t yet had a chance to return to her normal riot of curls. “You like?”
“I definitely do,” Martin said. “Wes, doesn’t Aurora look pretty?”
Wesley slowly nodded and dragged out the single syllable, “Yeah...”
Aurora laughed, a sound that had become comforting to Martin over the past months. He did enjoy her cinnamon rolls, but there was an inner strength to Aurora that he’d come to appreciate, as well. She seemed to understand the responsibilities he faced at home. And she’d been right on about Jude when she advised him to talk to her. “Okay, folks, start thinking about which of the twenty-four flavors you want.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Wesley was still licking his fingers.
Aurora dug around in her large pocketbook and withdrew a package of moistened wipes. Taking one out, she passed it to the backseat. “Here, clean off your fingers, honey.”
“I remember my wife always having a supply of those,” Martin said.
“It’s a mom thing,” she said. “Wipes are as important to the contents of a purse as a driver’s license or house keys.”
That was the first time Martin had heard Aurora mention family in a long time. He wondered. How many children did she have? She’d only mentioned one son.
Before he could ask, Aurora began singing along with the radio. Martin tabled his question.
When they drove up her lit lane, Aurora said, “Thanks so much for this, Marty. It was a treat and a good end to my day.”
“I’m glad you could come with us.”
When her house came into view, a strange automobile, an older-model Honda, was parked in front. As they got closer, Aurora leaned forward and squinted out the windshield toward the dim porch light she’d left on. A lone figure was perched on the bottom step. “Who could that be?”
Martin’s alert system took over. “You said you didn’t have any guests tonight. Did you forget about a reservation?”
“No. I don’t have anybody coming until the weekend.”
“I’ll check it out,” he said. “You and Wesley stay in the car.” In a softer voice he added, “Wouldn’t hurt to keep the doors locked.” He parked and opened his car door. “Do you have your cell phone handy, Aurora?”
She started to answer but instead put her hand on Martin’s arm. “It’s okay, Marty. You can get back in the car. I’ll handle this.”
“Like heck you will.”
“No, really, it’s okay. I recognize the person now that we’re closer.”
“Who is he?”
She stared out the window and took a deep breath. “That’s my son, William.”
“Your son? You didn’t know he was coming?”
She shook her head. “He’s always had a rather erratic schedule. I never know when he’ll show up.”
“Well, fine. Maybe he’ll stay through Christmas. I’d like to meet him.”
“Not tonight, Marty, if you don’t mind.”
He gave her a hard stare. She was in control, didn’t seem upset or anxious about this unannounced visit. Still, he couldn’t ignore his suspicious nature. “Are you sure? Maybe I can be of some help.”
“I don’t need help, but thanks. I’ll be in touch with you soon.” She looked over the front seat. “I’m glad I got to see you tonight, Wesley. It was fun.”
She opened her door, and the man on the step stood. He was average height, slim, with a knitted stocking cap on his longish, dark hair. He remained where he was, his hands in his jeans pockets. Next to him sat a large duffel bag. Martin figured he’d come to stay awhile.
Martin couldn’t explain his misgivings, but they were strong. “I’ll expect you to call, Aurora. If you don’t, I’ll call you.”
She leaned into the car window for a few seconds. “He’s my son, Marty. I’ll be fine.”
He watched her approach the steps where William still waited. The two spoke. Aurora put her hand on her son’s arm. There was no embrace, no sign of true affection, strange for a woman like Aurora who didn’t mind showing her emotions. Strange, really, for any parent.
Martin backed up, turned and headed down the drive. In his mirror he saw Aurora enter her house with her son following. Then the lights in the living room came on.
* * *
AFTER TURNING ON the lights, Aurora moved quickly to the kitchen. “I’ll put coffee on.”
William followed. “Thanks. I could use a cup. It was pretty cold out there.”
Thank goodness she’d made thousands of pots of coffee in her lifetime, and didn’t have to think about what she was doing. She could perform the simple task without worrying about what had brought her son to Ohio, or how he’d discovered where she lived.
“I see you have a car,” she said while the coffee brewed.
“Picked it up a week ago. It’s not much, but it got me here.”
She hated herself for thinking the worst. Had William stolen the car?
“Where did you come from?”
“Idaho. I’ve been staying with some friends there.”
She nodded.
“You could have told me you moved,” he said. “You knew I was going into the rehab place. I stayed there for three months. You could have reached me.”
She carried the sugar bowl to the table. “I suppose I could have.”
“I found out from Aunt Agnes where you were. She didn’t have the address, though. She just said you were opening a bed-and-breakfast. I found this place on the internet in the library.”
Aurora wasn’t close to her ex husband’s sister, but she had told Agnes a bit about her plans just in case there was a true emergency. Aurora had lived so long expecting to hear about emergencies related to Phil or William that she couldn’t let go completely.
William looked around the cozy kitchen. “This is nice. You buy it outright?”
She frowned. It hadn’t taken William ten minutes to turn the conversation to money.
Without answering, she brought a mug of coffee to the table and set a spoon beside it. “Did you have a job in Idaho?”
“This and that. Saved up enough to buy the junker out there.”
“How long do you plan on staying?” she asked.
“Depends. Are you even a little glad to see me?”
His words were more a challenge than a logical question. She couldn’t tell him the truth—that just seeing him reminded h
er of the strength she’d finally found to remain separate from him physically and emotionally. With a mother’s passion, a mother’s memories of long-ago years, she wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. But experience had taught her to not show a moment of weakness. She answered evasively. “You’re my son.”
He took off his cap, ran his fingers through his long hair. “I’m clean,” he said.
She sat on the other side of the table, stirred her coffee. “Glad to hear it.” Out of a force of habit, she stared into his eyes. Pupils small and clear. He seemed to be telling the truth—for now.
“Dad’s living in Oregon,” he said. “Some little town near the coast. He’s got a pretty decent mobile home.”
“Good.”
“I told him I was going to look you up. He sends his regards.”
She took a sip of coffee. So alike, the two men who had once been the center of her life. They each could work her over until the sympathy just oozed out of her pores, and the money trickled out of her bank account. But she’d learned. The lesson had been hard and heartbreaking, but she’d finally learned. If she hadn’t made a clean break, she would never have been done helping the two addictive men in her family. She could never give enough.
Gambling, alcohol and, most horribly for William, drugs. It was all the same disease, and it afflicted both her men. Their problems had paved a road to ruin. Thank goodness, after trying for years to change them, she’d decided not to take another step with them.
“He’s okay, Dad is,” William said, though Aurora hadn’t asked. “Working part-time at a restaurant. He gets by.”
Aurora did a quick mental survey of her refrigerator. “Are you hungry, William? I could scratch up something.”
“No, not hungry.”
Of course not. He hadn’t been hungry in years. That was one of the effects of the heroin. She thought about telling him he was too thin, but didn’t.
“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked. “Maybe a couple of days? The last rehab was pretty tough, and I haven’t had a proper bed to sleep on in weeks. I need a rest.”
“Yes, you can stay tonight.” Before she let her past affection and her gullibility get the best of her, she established limits. “You can stay a week, but I don’t know how much rest you’ll get. The downstairs bathroom and the sunroom need coats of paint. The basement needs cleaning out. My truck could use an oil change and a tire rotation. I’ll pay you fifty dollars a day as long as you’re working. A week from tomorrow, you plan on taking your salary and going wherever it is you’ve planned to go next.”
The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers Page 13
