Mother of Prevention

by Lori Copeland

  “I guess so.”

  They left for their rooms and I started dinner. Almost automatically I reached for the telephone. “Hey, Mazi. You doing anything tonight?”

  “Not a thing. Why?”

  “How do you feel about chicken strips and corn dogs for dinner?”

  She laughed. “I’ll bring the salad. Okay?”

  “Sure. We need something other than junk.”

  “One taco salad coming up.”

  Chapter 16

  “What a nightmare.” Mazi slid closer to the wheel, trying to see through the sheet of heavy rain. The windshield wipers could barely keep up with the steady deluge.

  I stared out the window at the passing motorists. Maybe it was true; laughing released endorphins and made you feel better. I was glad Mazi had insisted on going out for coffee this evening.

  Mazi mumbled under her breath, intent on manipulating the crowded freeway. I lay back, rested my head against the car’s leather interior and thought about the past week. There were still billboards advertising Valentine’s Day, which had come and gone with an outbreak of sentimental gush. Roses or something equally thoughtful had decorated every stylist’s station, expressions of love from husbands or significant others. With Mazi’s help, Kris had purchased a single red rose at the supermarket, along with a sprig of baby’s breath, and stuck the arrangement in a bud vase. She and Kelli had proudly handed it to me on my way out of the house on Valentine’s Day.

  “It’s from me and Kelli. And Daddy,” Kris had added.

  At that moment I was too overcome to do anything other than pull her close and hug her.

  I’d set the vase on my station and I thought it looked just as impressive as the other floral tributes. Certainly as much love had gone into the giving of the gift.

  “I shouldn’t have bought the house.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I realized I had spoken out loud. Mazi glanced over, frowning. Not a word had been spoken about bills or mortgages tonight.

  “You’re really not happy here?”

  Biting my lower lip, I shook my head, allowing my true feelings to surface, allowing myself to express without fear of censure all I kept deeply compressed in my heart.

  “Oh, Kate.” The car slowed. Mazi fumbled in her oversize bag for a clean tissue and pressed one into my hand.

  I took it and blew my nose. “Watch the road,” I cautioned. It was a terrible night for travel. Slick wet highways glistened like polished glass.

  Mazi’s tone gentled. “Why don’t you like it here? It’s San Francisco. Cable cars, delightful weather most of the time, so much to do and see.”

  I lifted my shoulders with apathy. “If you have someone to do and see it with.”

  Mazi fell silent and I knew I’d insensitively touched a raw nerve. Until I’d moved next door, Mazi had spent much of her time alone. She’d never admit that she hurt, but God had given me eyes to see and ears to hear. Sometimes, in order to make even the vaguest sense of what had happened, I pretended that God had a purpose in taking Neil, that He had sent me here to be with Mazi.

  Maybe she needed me more than Neil needed me.

  She had no real belief in a supreme being, but Neil had had no trouble at all trusting his life to the Lord. In those flights of fantasy it was easier for me to accept Neil’s absence; it gave his death meaning. But the reasoning never stayed with me for long. I still thought there was no viable reason for God to take Neil and leave me to raise two small daughters alone. Tears smarted when I felt Mazi’s hand creep tentatively into mine.

  “Well, no one has to tell me about lonely.”

  I gently squeezed her hand back. Forgive me, God, for reminding her that this isn’t a perfect world.

  Sometimes I would think that if I were only holy enough, prayed hard enough, all I’d have to do is put on my righteousness and God would protect me from all evil.

  Faith didn’t work that way.

  “I should have stayed in Oklahoma,” I admitted. “Kept the house, raised the children and begun a new phase of life.”

  “You did begin a new phase.”

  “No, I ran, Mazi. And I’ve been running ever since—at full speed, for the last few weeks. I’m only spinning my wheels. Leaving Oklahoma didn’t lessen my hurt. It didn’t bring Neil back. The only thing I’ve accomplished is to sink myself up to the eyeballs in debt.”

  Mazi wiped her nose with a tissue. The hypnotic slap slap of the wipers was sprinkled in the conversation.

  “Are you considering moving back?”

  Was that what I was doing? I never dared let myself think that far ahead. I was too scared. So far my rash decisions had proved disastrous. I missed teaching, missed demonstrating new products, doing an occasional platform demonstration. I missed the fresh young faces and the talented hands that I’d helped mold to be exceptional stylists. Flying had been the downside, but I had loved my work.

  I was gradually getting the hang of managing the shop, but I’d never like it. I had a good crew now, well trained and working to my specifications. I was developing a good rapport with my customers. I’d learned to drive in San Francisco traffic. I knew I was making progress, but it seemed as if I’d get on top of one problem and another would crop up. Like the broken pipe in the bathroom. And it was amazing what plumbers cost in this town. I sighed. What was I, an Okie to the bone, doing here?

  “Oh, Kate. It hurts me to see you so unhappy.” Tears openly ran down Mazi’s cheeks. “You’ll go back, won’t you? You’ll go back, and I won’t be able to stand it without you. I am so selfish. I want to keep you and the girls here, with me.”

  “I can’t go back. There’s no way out. I owe far more on the mortgage than I can ever hope to regain without making major repairs.” Just this week I’d discovered that the house needed new heating and air-conditioning.

  “Warren and I have savings….”

  That was Mazi. Begging me not to go back but unselfishly offering me a way to go home. I reached over and touched her arm. “Don’t even think about it. I could never repay you…and I wouldn’t borrow anyway.” Neither a borrower nor a lender be—that was Neil’s mantra. But I was head over heels in debt to Mom and Dad for the down payment on the house.

  “But if you make the repairs you can recoup your losses when you sell.”

  “Maybe, but who knows if I could sell for the price I would have to ask? The former owner practically gave me the house, and truthfully, the children are so confused right now I don’t know how they’d take to another major upheaval in their lives?”

  I knew both girls longed to go back to Oklahoma, back to friends and classmates and familiar surroundings, but going home was harder than it sounded.

  “Oh, Kate. Mrs. Lewiston, the former owner, is a sly old fox. She didn’t give you the house. She’d tried to pawn the thing off on some unsuspecting buyer for over a year.” Mazi shook her head. “Nobody would pay her asking price. Then she tried the old ‘I want the house to have the right family,’ and she found two interested parties.”

  “Two?”

  Why wasn’t I surprised that I was the only gullible patsy?

  Mazi shook her head. “The other person dropped out a couple of days before you hit town. He’d had a house inspector and—”

  “They found the problems.” Great, Kate. Another case of your impulsive nature resulting in calamity.

  “Did Gray Mitchell know about this?”

  “Any house that age will have problems.”

  Huh. And he’d seemed so nice. Another Kate boo-boo.

  Mazi sniffed. “I feel guilty that I haven’t been going to your salon. It’s just that I’ve gone to my regular stylist for years, but I’ll come to you if it would help. You know I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

  I smiled, turning to face her. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to change. I have to stay, Mazi. I don’t have a choice. But even if something amazing happened and I could go home, I would always keep in close touch. We could fly back
and forth, visit each other. You wouldn’t lose me. Maybe you could even talk Warren into moving there. He travels so much, and you have no close family here—what difference would it make if you lived in California or Oklahoma?”

  “You hate flying!”

  “For you I’d do it.”

  “Something amazing? Isn’t that God’s territory? I thought you were mad at Him.”

  “I am mad at Him, but I still believe He exists. He could work something—if He wanted to.”

  He just didn’t want to in my case.

  “Then why do you sound so hopeless? I don’t necessarily buy this religion stuff, but it seems to me that the folks who do buy it enjoy a certain advantage. Have you completely lost faith?”

  “Not completely. I rant and rave a lot—blame God for what’s happened—but I know there’s a higher power, and right now I’m just peeved, I guess. Mad at God, mad at the world. Mad at Neil for leaving me.”

  “I don’t think Neil had a choice.”

  Of course he didn’t. And now neither did I. As Grandma used to say, You made your bed—now you lie in it.

  Straight ahead I spotted a long stretch limousine sitting on the shoulder. A uniformed driver struggled to change a flat tire in the driving rain. I assumed we’d whip by, but Mazi immediately let up on the gas.

  “Look at that poor guy. He needs help.”

  I reached for my cell phone to alert the highway patrol, but by now Mazi had pulled in back of the stalled vehicle. I turned to stare at her.

  She shrugged. “Hey, my dad taught me to change a tire in five minutes flat. I can help.”

  “Are you nuts! Two women alone stopping to help a stranger? How do we know this isn’t some elaborate setup to mug us?”

  I didn’t know much about California, but I’d heard enough to know you’d have to be out of your mind in any large city to stop in a situation like this one.

  “We don’t know. We just take our chances. If you’re worried you can wait in the car.”

  If I was worried? I was in a perpetual state of anxiety. Didn’t she know that!

  Before I could argue, she sprang out of the car, popped an umbrella and waded through puddles to the driver now standing with hands on hips, staring at the flat tire.

  “Deranged,” I muttered under my breath. Mazi acted so weird sometimes. Wired. Irrational.

  My hand closed over the heavy-duty flashlight she kept under the passenger seat for emergencies; I could turn the light into a lethal weapon if I needed to.

  My daddy had taught me the good-ole-boy way of handling disputes.

  Jerking the door open, I climbed out of the car, sucking in a breath when cold rain hit me in the face. I jumped several puddles on the way to the limousine, feeling my way down the side of the long sleek automobile. I couldn’t cut, perm, or color enough hair in my lifetime to own this thing. Whatever star or celebrity lurked behind the dark tinted glass failed to show himself.

  Drinking champagne, eating caviar while the peons wallow in mud, I thought.

  Mazi was chattering a mile a minute to the bewildered driver. Poor guy—he looked as if he was in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

  “I got a real problem,” he said. “I gotta get these people to the airport, and considering the road conditions and the traffic, by the time I can call someone to change the tire and get them there, they’ll miss their plane.”

  Mazi chewed on her lower lip. “I have the perfect solution. Kate, you take my car and drive them to the airport. In the meantime we’ll get the tire changed and follow you.”

  I jerked her aside. “Are you out of your mind? You don’t know these people. This could be a plot to kidnap us.”

  She shook her head. “Use your head, Kate. Why would anyone hire a stretch limousine and let the air out of the tire on the off chance a couple of women might stop in a driving rain?”

  “There’s something wrong with your logic,” I groused. “I just haven’t spotted it.”

  “You can think about it on the way to the airport.” She strode back to the driver. “Tell your fare my friend will drive them to the airport. I’ll help you fix the tire and then we’ll follow them. Will that work?”

  He looked relieved. “Oh, lady, you have no idea.” He opened the door and peered inside. “Sir, I think we have the problem solved. Miss…” He looked at me.

  “Mrs. Madison,” I muttered, thinking this had to be the stupidest thing I’d ever done.

  “Mrs. Madison will drive you to the airport.” Mazi handed him her umbrella and he held it aloft.

  A man—no one I recognized, which didn’t mean much since I wasn’t a celebrity hound—got out and bent to help a younger woman gloriously arrayed in furs and diamonds out of the car. I took a deep breath, allowing that Mazi had a point. No one was going to put on a show like this just to kidnap a couple of hapless females. I figured they were legitimate.

  I hurried back to Mazi’s car after arranging a meeting point and got in behind the steering wheel. The young woman got in the back and the man settled in the front passenger seat. The driver placed their luggage in the trunk. I started the car and drove off, leaving Mazi, who by now had stripped out of her coat. In her chic black pantsuit she looked drenched. I saw her grab a lug wrench and set to work.

  At first I concentrated on driving. I wasn’t used to Mazi’s car, and the road conditions and traffic claimed all my attention. Finally I relaxed and glanced at my front-seat passenger.

  He grinned. “You’re doing fine. We’re going to make it.”

  “I know how long it takes to get through security nowadays.”

  “It does, but I’m sure it will be all right. We do appreciate you doing this for us.”

  The woman leaned forward. “I hope we’re not delaying you too much.”

  “No. My baby-sitter will stay as long as I need her. I’ll call from the airport and let her know where I am.”

  “You have children?” the man asked.

  “Two daughters, seven and five. We haven’t lived in California all that long and I haven’t done much driving at night, particularly in the rain.”

  “You moved here from where?” the man asked.

  “Oklahoma. My husband was a firefighter and…” I stopped, unable to go on.

  “Was?” the young woman asked softly.

  “He died while fighting a fire.”

  “And you’re raising them alone.”

  I sensed the man’s appraising glance, but I didn’t look in his direction.

  “Yes. It’s all mine. Family, home, two mortgages.” I tried to laugh and failed. “The all-American dream.”

  We reached the airport and I stopped in front of the terminal. “I’ll let you out here and then go park to wait for your car and my friend.”

  The man didn’t move to open the door. “What can I do to repay you for your kindness?”

  I smiled, recalling Neil’s classic reply when he’d helped someone in trouble. “Nothing. Just return the favor to someone else.”

  “No. Really.” The stranger insisted. “Allow me to express my gratitude.”

  “Okay,” I conceded. “You can send my friend a bouquet of flowers.” I rummaged in my purse, took out a business card and handed it to him. “I’ll see that she gets them.”

  The good Lord knew Mazi didn’t get enough attention. Fresh flowers would make her day, and after all, it had been her idea to help them.

  I waited until he had helped the woman out and then drove off to find a parking place. Of course I had to park a full city block away and got even wetter walking back.

  Once I got inside I looked for my passengers, but they were nowhere in sight. I didn’t know what gate they were boarding from and I didn’t want to squish my way through the airport in my rain-soaked shoes. Besides, I needed to hang around the entry waiting for Mazi.

  It was a good twenty minutes before they showed up, and I was so relieved to see her safe and unharmed that I grabbed her for a hug. She grinned. “Did you make
it in time?”

  “I guess so. I haven’t seen them since I let them out in front.”

  The driver sighed, his expression relieved. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along.”

  Mazi suddenly stopped in her tracks. “Say, your boss looks like that dot-com guy. Anyone ever mentioned the uncanny resemblance?”

  The driver covered a smile with his hand. “I believe that he is aware of the similarity.”

  “Yeah, amazing similarity, but Gates lives—ah, whatever. I don’t know where he lives.” Mazi led the way to the double doors. When she shoved them open she let out a howl of anguish.

  “What’s wrong!” the driver and I said in unison.

  “My nail! I broke it!”

  “Broke it?” We both stepped forward to confirm the crisis. One jagged acrylic hunk dangled from her third finger.

  “Ohhhh, no! My nail tech is on vacation! What will I do?”

  I tried to calm her, the driver tried to calm her, but this was apparently a crisis of monumental proportions. Mazi had broken a fake nail.

  “No problem. You need to get in out of the rain. You’re going to catch cold.” I glanced at Mazi, who was dramatically wringing the injured finger and muttering under her breath. “What will I do? What will I do? Pilar is on vacation!”

  “Crybaby,” I teased. “Stop by the salon in the morning and I’ll have one of our nail techs repair the nail for you.”

  I draped my arm around her shoulders and we sidestepped puddles on our way to the car. “You know, the proverbial Good Samaritan. Yada yada yada.”

  “Yeah, yada yada yada—you’re sure? No charge?”

  I laughed. “Of course.”

  If only my problems could be solved so quickly and effortlessly.

  Later I checked on the girls to make sure they were properly tucked into bed, and then headed straight for the shower. I stood under the hot spray and let the water chase away the chill. I still couldn’t believe that two lone women had stopped and changed a flat tire on the freeway for a set of strangers, but then with Mazi, anything was possible.

  I dried off and soothed lotion over my body, then slipped into a warm robe. Outside cold rain pelted the street.