by LoRee Peery
As soon as he spoke the words, he heard the harshness and realized how the tone and the words didn’t match. The moisture in her eyes went straight to his gut.
The flinch of hurt that crossed her features was like a period to his thought. Enough so that she backed up a step.
“Moze, honey, I’m sorry.” He closed the gap between them. “I just don’t want you hurt any more. Things are going so great between you and me, now. I don’t want anything to interfere.”
“But how can a Bible study interfere?”
He shook his head and reached for her hands. “A Bible study can’t interfere. I’m being a protective jerk and probably getting in the way of something the Lord wants to happen.”
Eric swung their hands out. “But you and Beth being friendly again, I’m still adjusting.”
He planted a kiss on her forehead. Then closing his eyes, he rested his chin on the top of her head, and hoped she didn’t find his sweaty body offensive.
“It’s your choice,” he said, weighing his words. “We have many choices to make in life. But it seems weird that you have to choose whether to spend time with Beth or not.”
Moselle pulled back and rested her hands on his upper arms. Her fingers felt so cool, dry, and smooth.
He felt so hot and wet and rough.
“You and I have already made the right choice when it comes to eternity.” She lifted a brow, resembling Geneva.
He nodded in agreement, wondered where she was going with her statement.
“Now we need to finish out our lives living God’s way so others can see where we’re going.” She smiled and her green eyes lit up. “You lead studies. You know the Bible helps us do that.”
“You’re right.” How well he knew. The leader always learned the most. “Can’t argue with you there.”
Eric’s beeper vibrated and a siren blew from the station house. “Guess that’s my signal that this talk is over.”
“Be careful.”
He slung his tool belt into the truck and took off.
At the scene, a semi had swerved to miss a motorcycle, overcompensated and flipped onto its side. No injuries, but a mess of broken wooden crates slowed the traffic to one lane. Clean-up took some time.
The firefighters spent some of that time remembering the crazy clucking chickens that had run all over during another accident. That led to a long chain of chick one-liners. Again.
“I was wrong thinking Beth was out of my life. It sounds like she’s here to stay.” Eric later confessed to Marty on their way back to the fire hall. “It’s going to take some getting used to, seeing her around, again.”
Marty scratched the top of his head, making his short hair stand on end. “One way to look at it, is people come and go in our lives and our interaction is not for us to question.”
“Well, I can’t help but look at the women who’ve come and gone in my dad’s life.”
I stomped on Moselle. I left Beth. Forgive me, Lord. Again.
Eric checked all directions of the intersection where he had stopped, before proceeding through. “And I’m all for having to deal with only one.”
Marty laughed and slapped his thigh. “I think we’re stuck with ‘em, since they do outnumber us here on earth.”
“Yep,” Eric agreed. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” And he didn’t want to think about living without Moselle now that she was back in his life.
“So, how about getting our women together? Haven’t heard Camille mention Moselle since the church ladies had that baby shower for us.”
“Seems there’s a Bible study brewing,” Eric resigned himself to the inevitable. “I’ll ask Moselle if Camille has been told about it.”
****
“I can sure put myself in the place of the woman at the well,” Beth admitted, wiping away a tear.
Moselle considered that statement, but let it go without comment. Yes, Beth had been with several men. If she commented, it would be an invitation for censure, even if the women were in a Bible study.
“Well, Marty is the only man I’ve been with,” Camille said, rubbing her mounded abdomen where it touched the table. “But I believe God knows my every thought. It stands to reason I have no secrets from Him.”
“And He allows us to make mistakes.” Mary Jorgenson joined in the conversation from the counter where she was pouring sun tea into tall glasses. “It was a hard lesson, but I know He was with us all through that fire. Little Em wasn’t really alone.”
“He meets us where we are,” Lanae put in, “and all we have to do is say yes when He calls.”
The women moved away from the table once Cassie closed in prayer. They discussed their meeting schedule. Moselle listened, content not taking part. She nodded assent when Lanae offered Geneva’s home for a study night. Since her mother was going over the accounts in Lanae’s absence, Monday night was the prime time to hit the computer records, so Geneva had declined the invitation to join this first evening.
Moselle commiserated with Camille’s heavy movements and lent her an arm when she struggled from the sofa. Since she was on her feet, she decided to leave with Camille.
Beth called her name. At her serious tone, Moselle stopped her path toward the door. Camille went on out.
“Uh, could we talk outside before you leave?”
They entered the warm night without words. The early summer evening was perfectly washed with fresh smells and clean colors after a soft rain. The melodious cooing of a dove drifted on the breeze.
Beth waited until Camille was at the curb. Moselle sighed and prepared herself to listen.
“Sitting around the table tonight as we studied God’s Word, I thought of something I learned when I was in the shelter.” Beth’s voice sounded stronger as she spoke. “In order to change my messed-up life, I needed to change my playmates and my playground.”
Moselle decided to ponder that later.
Beth beamed. “Meeting with decent women for Bible study is just that, don’t you think?”
Moselle nodded in agreement. She wished more women could meet for study and put gossip to an end. Caring for and praying for others were powerful tools God used in changing hearts.
“I was a mess when we were kids. You know that my stepfather was a drunk.” Beth ignored the trickling tears, and trembled. “He was so abusive to Mom. I can’t imagine a man being worse.”
Moselle tried to stay motionless and quiet, giving Beth the time she needed to pull herself together.
“One day when I was twelve he figured I was more attractive than my mother.” Her tears dried and she looked Moselle in the eye. “Five years later, as the Bible says, I found myself ‘with child.’”
Moselle gasped. “You mean–?”
“Yes.” Beth’s tears renewed their stream. “I let Eric believe he was the father of my baby.”
Moselle felt her eyes widen. She’d been so oblivious.
“What would you have done Moselle? You were so perfect, so good. You didn’t have a clue.”
Moselle blinked. Her eyes overflowed.
“It’s not your fault you were clueless. We were best friends. I was always glad I had you to hang around with. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”
Beth had viewed her as self-righteous? She longed to turn back the clock.
She wanted to reach out and hug Beth, because this wasn’t a time for words. But she hadn’t melted enough yet.
“I own that mistake. I convinced Eric to marry me so I could control that particular situation. I thought I could even control my life. Because with Mom’s husband, I had no control.”
Moselle felt as small as one of her mother’s pearl buttons.
This was the secret Eric had alluded to.
Moselle’s Insurance
13
Moselle stared out the kitchen window and blew a deep breath that made her shoulders droop.
It had been all about herself and her humiliation over Eric’s treatment that night, cu
lminating in her shame when Kate Rawlins saw her torn blouse after that fiasco in Eric’s car.
Maybe something had happened to her emotionally when her dad died. Her mother had believed that the hospital wasn’t the place for her to hang out during those last days of his life. He had only lasted two months following the discovery of the lymphatic tumors. Both parents had advised her to spend that time with her friends.
Yes, she’d been a mess as a teenager.
And in many ways she still acted like one.
Now she prayed her aunt’s hepatitis would not prove fatal. And she vowed to spend time with her aunt whenever she could. Time she hadn’t been given with her father.
The teakettle whistled, jerking her from her reverie.
“I’ll have your tea in a minute, Aunt Lanae,” she called.
Moselle dropped the envelope from the tea bag when her aunt mumbled something from right behind her. “What did you say?”
“Interferin’ Interferon. This medicine.” Lanae gave a tired smile. “The Interferon messes up my stomach.”
Lanae’s eyelids matched the color of her rose robe. The shade did not come from an eye shadow palate. “So, it’s interfering with my life.”
Moselle turned and hugged her aunt. “It’s not forever, right? And you said you like having the time to read the Bible more, so let’s say this is a good thing. Agree?”
“Honey, you’re turning into a diplomat. I enjoy reading if I’m not too tired.” Lanae squeezed Moselle’s waist and stepped back. “No, it’s not forever. I’m praying that the treatment rids my body of the virus and that I’ll have no permanent liver damage.”
Moselle retrieved the tea wrapper from the floor and tossed it in the trash. “I’ve heard peppermint helps the stomach. I’ll try to get you some. In the meantime, Mom and I will always be here so you won’t go through this alone.”
Moselle set the cover on the mug to keep the water hot. “Where do you want to sit? I’ll help you get comfy and stay while you drink your tea before I leave.”
“I’ll park my carcass in the living room.” Lanae gave a slight shiver and pulled the favored chenille robe to fit tighter in the front.
“I’ll be right there.” Moselle tidied up the kitchen.
Lanae smoothed a garden quilt in Geneva’s favored combination of purples, yellows, and greens around her legs. “I need to get a recliner of my own or this one will fit my body better than your mother’s.”
“Maybe Mom and I can do something about that.”
“No reason to spend money on me. The couch is fine. Or my bed is comfy enough.”
Moselle set the cup and saucer on the coffee table. “Aunt Lanae, I’d like to ask you something.”
Lanae gave Moselle her full attention, her eyes at half mast.
“This is hard.” Moselle started to fiddle with an earring that wasn’t fixed in her ear yet this morning. She smoothed the hair at her nape instead. “I’ve always felt that you’ve been displeased with me somehow. Like I don’t measure up.”
“Never think that.” Lanae smoothed the robe collar against her neck. “You’re the closest thing to a daughter that I have.”
Lanae’s cool fingers covered Moselle’s hand. “Maybe I was more critical of you than I had a right to be, since I always wanted the best for you.”
She gave an exerted yawn and closed her eyes. “Sorry, I don’t have any energy. I’m cold. And for the record, I’ve never been disappointed in you.”
Suspecting fever by the flushed cheeks, Moselle picked up her aunt’s hand and placed Lanae’s fingers around the teacup. “Maybe this will warm you.”
“Thanks.” Lanae wrapped both hands around the cup to absorb the warmth of the tea. “After my hysterectomy, I knew I’d never have a daughter of my own to fulfill my dreams and give me a grandchild.”
She slanted Moselle a wan smile. “You had better be Mrs. Eric Todd by the time I’m well.”
She’d spoil her aunt’s little dream. She still planned to leave Platteville.
But is that Your plan, Lord?
****
Moselle flipped the sign from Closed to Open, unlocked the front door, and wondered when Eric would be over to work on the deck. She stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Frivolities and shaded her eyes against the bright morning sunlight.
Main Street, in both directions, was filled with normalcy. She reflected on how she had left the hustle and bustle of the city and how day by day, she’d acclimated to a slower routine.
If she had returned to Platteville after college, would she be different inside? Would she and Eric have a couple kids by now? She looked in his direction once more. She must have it bad if she tried to see him through the outside wall of his insurance office down the street.
At a scuffle of movement, she lowered her hand. “Well, what have we here?”
A beautiful blonde girl around seven knelt beside a square laundry basket. She smoothed her hand over the head and down the back of a large puppy, which stood on its hind legs.
“Hi. I’m Molly. And this is Dear.” She hefted the wiggling mound of light, golden-brown fluff and gangly legs from the basket. Molly snuggled her nose into the loose fur of its neck.
Moselle crouched to their level and reached out to scratch the pup between the ears. “How do you do, Molly and Dear. I’m Moselle.”
“That’s a lot prettier name than Molly. Wanna hold her? I think she’s exactly the color of a wild deer, but Daddy said it would be dumb to spell her name like a deer. So we spell it with an A because she’s dear to me, like special people are dear.”
“That was very smart. Yes, she is the same color as some deer.” Moselle was rewarded with a wet sloppy puppy kiss on her palm. “She looks comfortable there in your arms for now.”
Big blue eyes lifted to look over Moselle’s shoulder. “Is this your store?”
“Kind of. It’s in the family.” She gazed around her. “Is your mother close by?”
Molly lifted a tanned arm and pointed to her right. “She’s over there in our van.”
Moselle saw the woman in question, watching from the driver’s seat of an older, dusty brown conversion van. Moselle raised her hand in greeting. The woman nodded back, but remained where she sat, keeping an eye on her daughter.
“Is it OK if I get up here on the bench and sit for a while?” Molly sat without waiting for Moselle to answer, scooting herself just right so her legs dangled over the edge. The puppy stood up on her lap, with its paws on the little girl’s shoulders as though trying to look through the window.
“I like the way your windows look. I’ve never seen anything like curtains on the outside. Me and my mom thought some nice lady coming to your store might like Dear. She says if they’re coming to buy interesting stuff like you sell in there they just might like a silly puppy to take home. My daddy says one big dog is enough. Her mommy’s name is Heidi and she had eight puppies. I saw ‘em be borned. We sold all the others but Daddy says we can’t keep Dear so we’re giving her away. Dear is the runt and the only one left.”
She took a breath and swiped at a tear. “I’d love to keep her.” Molly kissed the puppy’s head. “But daddy says no way,” she finished with a lot of drama.
Whew. Moselle shook her head at she speed of all those words. “How old is Dear?”
“She’s seven weeks. That means she’ll be two months pretty soon now.” Molly buried her nose in the puppy’s side. Turning to look up at Moselle, she said in a near whisper, “Do you think some nice lady will give Dear a good home?”
“I’m positive. May I hold her now?”
“Sure.”
Moselle laughed over the kisses the puppy rained on her face. “What a delightful miss. So, Molly, what kind of dog is Dear and how big will she get?”
“Monstrous. Dear will be huge.” Molly’s eyes rounded. “A giant, but not as big as her puppy brothers. She’s a St. Bernard and German shepherd.”
“That’s big all right.”
Moselle sat on the bench next to Molly, an idea for Dear’s future forming. “I guess that’s about as big as a dog can get then.”
She patted the pup, and kept on petting until it yawned, reminding her of her Aunt Lanae’s fatigue. Her heart filled as she watched the golden pup draw its paws over its eyes and drift into puppy dreamland.
Dare she follow her own daydreams where Eric was concerned?
****
Eric followed as Moselle led him by the hand. He was getting so used to the vanilla-cinnamon-coffee scent of Frivolities that he could concentrate on his smelling sense rather than all the stuff bombarding his sight. He chuckled. Her enthusiasm filtered through to him as they traveled up the stairs, across the empty room, and right through the open window. Whoa. Most women would be afraid to step onto an open deck floor with no railing.
A small iron table rested against the outside wall, complete with a blue checkered cloth and floral centerpiece. Moselle rounded the table and sat in a folding chair, indicating that he should take the matching seat.
She acted nervous for some reason. Maybe she’d had too many lattes this morning. “I hope you don’t mind cold cuts and sliced cheese. I didn’t think you’d care for the salad concoctions and cucumber sandwiches that we’re serving downstairs today.”
So far, he hadn’t spoken, getting a kick from the way it felt to have her full attention. And her jitters tickled him.
Something was up.
“I made the fruit salad.” She uncovered their plates and spread a checkered cloth napkin across her lap.
She ran an eye over the table. “Mom got brave and made one of Aunt Lanae’s cheesecakes. I managed to get Aunt Lanae’s tea recipe. So I hope you like the whole meal.”
Her last statement ended as a question so he nodded and smiled.
Eric reached for her hand and bowed his head. “Thank you, Lord, for this day, this food, this woman.”
She shot him a wistful smile after the Amen. “How was your morning?”
“Nothing unusual. Gave some quotes. Had to go into a few negatives for a client who wants coverage on an expensive motor home.” He picked up his napkin, and the fork clinked against his plate. “Not many people travel that way right now. But there are still some retirees who invested wisely.”
