by LoRee Peery
Her facial muscles tightened at the twisted tumble of what felt like a million more memories.
The ringing telephone interrupted.
Moselle worked her stiff jaw while drying her hands. She answered on the third ring.
Silence met her hello. She repeated her greeting.
“Hi again,” Eric said.
No. No, no, no. I am not ready for this.
Moselle struggled to swallow the enormous lump in her throat. Her head buzzed. Spots blurred her vision.
Her emotional reaction to Eric proved ridiculous.
“Yes,” she managed to gargle.
“Moselle. Glad you’re there.” The richness of his deep, warm voice caressed her ear, mingling with the golden rays of sunshine slanting through the blind.
How natural it felt.
The familiar timbre wiped away the years since she’d answered a call from Eric in this room. Eric’s signature phone etiquette weakened her knees. When they’d dated she’d had to answer twice before he spoke.
What a silly mannerism to still carry from adolescence.
“Remember how I used to wait those extra seconds, so I could picture you with ears for me alone?”
“You know, I usually hang up when the caller doesn’t answer right away. I imagine a computer dialed the number.”
“Ouch.” His heavy chuckle almost touched her soft side. Almost.
In their romantic phase, his voice had warmed her like hot chicken soup on a cold winter’s night.
That was then. “What can I do for you, Eric?”
“Hey, welcome home again.” His voice softened when he continued. “I’m sorry to hear about your aunt. I met her today.”
“She’ll be OK.” Moselle blew a breath toward the ceiling. “We’re thankful to finally know what’s wrong.”
“Our Sunday school class is praying for her. I heard that you’d been around on weekends past months, but I never saw you.”
On purpose. “I attended the early church service in K.C., then I’d arrive here in time for lunch.”
Tension built through another pause before Eric commented. “Got it. I’m calling for your mother. I need to go over the revised papers so the business has adequate insurance. Provided I don’t find anything to prevent coverage before she opens.”
“Let me give you Mom’s cell number. For some reason the phone isn’t connected at Frivolities.”
“An electrical fire burned down the garage across the alley. The phone company needs to install new lines through half that block. It’ll be another day or two.”
Moselle said a silent thank-you for his prattle, but wanted to end this exchange. Why couldn’t she remember him as a friend instead of the only guy she’d given the opportunity to break her heart?
“I’ll tell her you called,” she rasped through clenched teeth.
“Appreciate it.”
She heard Eric’s indrawn breath and waited for him to continue.
“Sorry you had to return home ‘cause of Lanae’s illness, Moselle. But for what it’s worth,—” His voice dropped a notch. “—Kansas City can do without you for a while. I’m glad to have you around again.”
In a town the size of Platteville, their meetings would be often. But Moselle hoped it would be much later, rather than sooner, before they ran into each other a second time.
Was it the biggest mistake of her life, coming home again?
Maybe the gossips would be busy wondering how her Aunt Lanae contracted hepatitis C.
People in small towns have long memories. Rumor had it that she had slept with Eric before he dated Moselle’s ex-best friend.
Who was she kidding? Her memory was just as long.
She had loved Eric and planned to become his wife. Instead, life without her soul-mate came to a standstill when her best friend snagged him.
They got married.
Beth miscarried.
They got divorced.
Eric went on with his life. And so had Moselle.
End of story.
Now in her mother’s kitchen, Moselle punched the off button. The handset hadn’t hit the base before the phone rang again. She flinched, hit Talk, and raised the receiver to her ear.
Nothing. She longed to run away.
“I need your mom’s cell number,” Eric said before he chuckled.
Couldn’t he just go away?
She rattled off the number then slammed the cordless phone on the counter. She snatched the cold dry toast slices from the slots and tossed them in the trash.
Her shoulders tensed to match her jaws.
Eric’s oh-so-familiar voice rumbled in her ear—that voice that had changed to bass the summer he was twelve—and got her in the gut.
“I’ll have to be tougher when we meet again.”
Thank You, Lord, that Eric’s not here to see my reaction to him. I’m only going to get through this time in Platteville with Your help. I know I’m not acting right, show me what to do.
Moselle’s Insurance
2
Eric reached for the alley door to Frivolities. It swung open before he touched the knob.
“Oof!” He gave an exaggerated exclamation as though he’d been slammed in the chest. He used her surprise to gather Moselle close, letting the door bang shut.
She’d been in his thoughts, and now here she was in his arms. All warm and smelling fresher than the spring breeze.
He held on tighter. They’d always been a perfect fit. If he just lowered his chin…
When she squirmed, Eric loosened his grasp on her elbows. He couldn’t prevent his wide grin over her obvious discomfort. “You need to work on this running away business. Rushing around the way you do, you could get hurt.”
Moselle twisted. He released her.
The warmth of their brief encounter evaporated. He’d have another chance. He hoped.
“We are way beyond the time when you can give me brotherly advice,” she ground out.
Aw, that fire was still in there. And the midday sun brightened her eyes to emerald.
“I take it you won’t be giving me the grand electrical tour. Into all the dark corners,” he added for the sake of orneriness.
Teasing Moselle had always raised a reaction. Now it wasn’t the reaction he wanted.
“Eric, give it a rest, will you?”
“Hey, I’m just trying to work here.”
“Well, why can’t you use the front door?” she snapped.
“The alley is closer to the fire station.”
He smoothed the grooves next to his mouth with thumb and index finger. He shrugged before shooting her a wink. “It’s safer in the back. The front store isn’t exactly a man’s comfort zone.”
Eric turned in the direction he’d come. He swung his hand in the air and gazed off in the distance. “Now just picture yourself on a wild game hunt surrounded by blood and guts and dust and smelly dirty men and—”
“OK, OK. I got it,” she sputtered, but he detected humor in her tone. “You’re as comfy in Frivolities as I would be on a wild game hunt.”
And with her lovely face, he had the picture in his mind he’d carry from now on. Moselle looked up at him with her green, green eyes. And finally, he saw a bit of sparkle. Her smile stretched the little mole on her top lip. A hint of color kissed her cheeks where the sun brought out her girlish freckles.
She sobered.
Had he groaned out loud?
“Why don’t you go inside and get that business done?”
“I can do that, Moselle. But can you forget that we know each other?” He tapped her nose with an index finger. “I’ve always thought of you as my best friend, my girl.”
He wanted to say more, but her eyes narrowed and her shoulders stiffened like she was ready for battle.
“Hold on there.” He raised his hand, palm out. “Don’t ruffle your feathers. I’ll get to work.”
Moselle turned and walked away without another word.
His hand was on the doorkn
ob before he shot over his shoulder, “But we have to talk this out, you know.”
She remained silent as he opened the alley door. Just before it closed he heard, “In your dreams, buddy.”
Eric laughed aloud. She couldn’t leave it alone after all. He’d give her the last word. This time.
He knocked on the inside door and called Geneva’s name.
When she swirled into the hall from the office, he wondered if her skirt had once been a quilt.
“Hi, Eric.” She waved her hand in a graceful arc. “We’ve got an alarm system on the back and front doors. One smoke detector close and fire extinguisher right here next to Moselle’s workbench.”
He followed her into the office, where she pointed out the smoke detector, its red light obvious. She headed for the hallway.
“Wait, I want to check the wiring upstairs and down,” he said. To their credit, the women had adequate power strips, but overload didn’t matter if the wiring was old knob and cleat.
“So, did you see Moselle when you came in?” Geneva asked on their way to the basement door.
“Yeah, we ran into each other.” He snorted a chuckle and shook his head.
“Why is that funny?” Geneva looked much like her daughter when she smiled.
He stroked his jaw. “Because we really did run into each other. She barreled out the door as I was ready to enter.” Eric embraced the air in front of him. “My arms were willing and waiting.”
Thankful God had enabled Moselle’s mother to see him for who he was, he asked, “Seriously, Geneva, do you think she can put the past behind us?”
“Give her time, Eric. If it’s meant to be, the Lord will work it all out.” She patted his shoulder. “But sometimes it’s hard to wait for His timetable.”
Geneva pointed out the basement door. “Light’s on the left. Finish your inspection. My espresso machine should come today.”
He thought of Moselle.
They needed to talk. He’d never apologized.
He’d never had the chance to explain.
****
Moselle entered Frivolities through the alley door. She balanced her large coffee with both hands to prevent the hot liquid from sloshing out the hole in the plastic lid and shouldered the creaky door shut. I need to find some oil for that door.
“Still running, I see.”
Moselle started at the sound of her aunt’s voice.
Lanae Petersen all but reclined on the tall bench, half on and half off. Her left leg swung lazily from the hip.
Moselle shook off the negative comment and raised an eyebrow at the proximity of Lanae’s elbow to the freshly decorated edge of the mirror frame.
“Please be careful with your sleeve, Aunt Lanae. I’d feel bad if you got paint on that crocheted top.”
“Then you should have stayed to finish the job and set it aside to dry.” Lanae lifted a casual hand to pull the droopy reddish-orangey-pink rosette back over her shoulder. “Sorry. I’m a grump today, Moselle.”
How did a niece answer that?
Moselle set the Styrofoam coffee cup in a tin fruit can to keep it from toppling over. “I dream about Mom’s new cappuccino machine. Sure could have used a grandé latte from fresh ground beans instead of this stuff from the convenience store.”
She plugged in the glue gun and shot her aunt a smile. “I really like the new highlights Karin gave you this time.”
“Thanks. Need to enjoy it while I can. I might lose my hair from the hepatitis treatments.” Lanae slid off the stool and snagged her sleeve on the edge of the workbench. She muttered something Moselle couldn’t make out.
Moselle watched from the corner of her eye, knowing an offer to help would be shrugged off. Instead, she busied herself by selecting a light acrylic purple and complementary yellow. She’d better watch it, or her mother’s favorite colors would become her own.
She reached for a pearlized teardrop piece of jewelry, but bumped her aunt’s shoulder.
Lanae didn’t move. “You know, it’s hard for me to be humble so I’ll just say thanks for coming to help your mom since I soon won’t be worth much, and that could last up to a year.”
Moselle straightened to look at her aunt. “It’s—”
“Don’t interrupt. I’m not finished.” Lanae rested her cool fingers over Moselle’s hand. “You can get back to work as soon as you realize that you can’t run from seeing Eric. He lives here. You’re bound to run into him over and over this summer. Platteville’s a small town. Grow up and face your past.”
Moselle cringed at her aunt’s critical tone. For reasons she had never puzzled out, Lanae liked to get in her face.
She sensed a tiny tic next to her right eye and willed it away. “Excuse me, please.” She reached a little further.
“Oh, all right,” Lanae grumbled and slid to the side. “I don’t understand why you can’t put the past in the past and get on with your life.”
Lanae’s fingers returned to fiddle with the rosettes on her shoulders. Her voice had softened on the last few words.
Moselle met her aunt’s green-hazel eyes.
“I love you, you know. I wasn’t blessed with a daughter.”
“Aunt Lanae, I believe you want the best for me. But I have to do things my way. When I’m ready to do them, just like you.” She drew a deep breath. “The next time you want to give me advice, think about how you would like it if Mom yammered away at you to find a new husband.”
“OK, I can take a hint.” She hugged Moselle. “But my guess is God wants you to get back with your Eric.” Lanae defied her illness and bounced away.
Moselle turned back to the work in front of her.
I thought he was my Eric once upon a time. Her fingers trembled as she centered the pearl in a drop of hot glue.
“You came back.”
At the sound of Eric’s rich voice, Moselle mentally patted herself on the back for not jumping and getting a nasty burn.
“You’re still here.” She carefully set down the glue gun and reached for the gold paint tube.
“I am,” Eric spoke, but he was way too close for comfort. “Great colors by the way.”
That same thrill from their previous encounters traveled from her ear down her spine. She sat up straighter. A mistake. Now she could actually feel his breath on her neck.
Just that fast, Eric stepped away and strode to the door. He didn’t open it. “Do you plan to always stay at your mom’s?”
With a quirk of her brow, Moselle swiveled to look at him. His hand was still on the knob.
“Must be a full house with your aunt already there.”
Why did she have to see his concern for others instead of remembering her anger?
He leaned a shoulder against the door jam and pointed a finger toward the ceiling. “That room upstairs could be an amazing apartment. That is, after electrical and other work is done so it meets inspection.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, I never thought…That’s a fantastic idea.” Then she frowned. She swung around so fast that her hair caught in the feathers dangling in the loop of her left earring. “Ouch. What kind of work?” She grabbed at her hair.
One long step and Eric had his fingers tangled with hers. Four fingers stilled. They were inches apart, Moselle’s eyes level with Eric’s mouth.
“Eric-to-the-Rescue, as usual.” Her mouth went so dry, Moselle was surprised she had a voice to speak.
“That’s me.” His gaze lowered to the problem at hand. “Hero at large. And to answer your question, the outlets and electrical cords will never work. The wiring needs replaced. I’m not an electrician, so I’ll make some calls.”
With one flick he loosened the strand of hair. Then he kissed her on the forehead.
How could their fingers be joined? Moselle stared at their clasped hands and lifted her gaze.
Eric slid his fingers away from hers, his touch as soft as one of the feather boas out front.
Gazes still connected, he spoke softly. “I hated my
self for a long time, you know.”
She stiffened. “You got over it, apparently.”
“In some ways. But I still need you to forgive me, Moze.”
Maybe she could. Someday.
The Lord had to help with the forgiving business. She found it an ongoing battle.
Her heart closed.
Why hadn’t Eric come to her defense when classmates ruined her reputation?
“Well, a person needs to care in order to forgive.”
His smile faded and hurt narrowed his eyes. “I deserved that. But we’ve got time.” He stepped away from her.
She closed her eyes. Didn’t he know she’d be going back to Kansas City after Labor Day?
The door groaned shut behind him.
Moselle swung off the stool to find oil. She fixed the rusty squeak, but it was the only thing she accomplished during the next two hours. Memories of Eric interrupted her processes. Her fingers were all thumbs. Nothing seemed to flow together and connect just right.
All the while she grew up, he’d been there. Eric had pulled her braids and teased her on a daily basis. But he’d also walked her home from school and taken care of bullies. If only he’d shown that same care when it came to the gossips a few years later.
She let the bitterness go and smiled in nostalgic remembrance at the mental picture of Eric sliding her dead goldfish onto an inverted Frisbee. They’d solemnly carried the pet to the creek at the edge of town, said a childish prayer, and left it to float away.
Excited voices from the front of Frivolities drew her from the stool.
“Oh, my. Isn’t it too beautiful for words?” Moselle couldn’t tell if it was her mother or aunt who had made the pronouncement.
She went to investigate.
Smack dab in the middle of the showroom stood an imposing copper and chrome espresso coffee machine. She could smell coffee beans already.
“Oh, latte my heart. It is a beauty.” Moselle looked from her mother to Lanae. “So, who knows how to run this thing?”
As though she were watching two sides of a mirror, one woman went to the left and swung around with an instruction book. The other swung to the right and whipped out a DVD. “We’ll learn.”
