Huntington Family Series

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Interesting. That was one way of putting it.

  “Oh, no! It’s raining,” exclaimed one of the women sitting on the ledge in front of the fireplace. She gave a careless toss of her head, and her short, stylish, black hair gleamed in the overhead light. “Drat, now I won’t get to go on my walk.” She looked down at her rotund figure in dismay.

  “Do like I do and walk on the treadmill,” said the pretty brunette next to her with a slight accent that signaled her Mexican decent. “I get more books read that way.” She sighed. “I love to read.”

  “But, Rosalva, I get seasick if I read while I’m moving. It happens all the time in the car.”

  “It won’t while you’re walking,” Rosalva said, pushing her long hair over her shoulder. “It’s different. You’ll see. I lost thirty pounds last year, reading and walking.”

  “I don’t even have a treadmill.”

  Tina had stood up to look outside at the rain, her face still in its perpetual smile. “You can use my treadmill if you want, Evie. But come and look how pretty the rain is. And we do need it very badly since it was so dry last summer.”

  Evie came over to peer outside the window behind them, accompanied by her friend Rosalva and several other women. “It’s gray and dull and ugly out there, Tina,” Evie said with a little grimace of her shapely mouth. “But I’ll come use your treadmill anyway, since you live so close.” She smiled at Tina as the other women erupted in laughter. “Thanks for offering.” Evie patted Tina’s arm before returning to the fireplace.

  “Anytime,” Tina murmured happily.

  Kerrianne took the opportunity to move to another seat, not being in the mood for Tina’s brand of optimism. Unfortunately, the only seat open was on the couch next to Bernice. “I’m not sure this eye shadow really does my eyes justice,” Bernice said to her in a loud whisper. She was holding up a small mirror and peering at her lids through one half-closed eye. “I think Maxine just wants to make money off me. Do you believe she only offered me thirty-five percent off?”

  Kerrianne nearly choked on the drink someone had put in her hand. “Actually, that’s her cost.”

  “Really?” Bernice looked thoughtful. “Well, maybe I’ll take it after all. Or at least just this one. I can probably make do with my old lipstick.”

  “I think you really look great. Of course, I’m not sure your husband would approve. I mean, what if a whole bunch of widowers start asking you out?”

  “I’d say no, of course,” Bernice pursed her lips, looking like her sour old self. “Well, I guess it’s not like I ever really spend anything on myself.” She raised her voice. “Maxine, I’ll take the lot of it. Write me up a bill, would you? I’ve got to get my grandson back home before my daughter comes to get him.”

  “Tina, would you write the orders?” Maxine asked, her hands still busy with the white-haired woman. “Tina’s my upline,” she explained to Kerrianne. “She’s the one who got me started in all this.”

  “Oh, sure. I’d love to.” Tina’s voice changed to sing-song. “Come along, ladies. I’ll take care of you.”

  Kerrianne watched as one woman after another made out an order and left. Soon even Tina was gone, after several annoyingly cheerful comments about the “wonderful day” they’d shared together. Briefly, Kerrianne realized she hadn’t found much out about the woman except that she seemed to always find a positive side to everything. Had her husband died? Or was she divorced? Kerrianne made a mental note to ask Maxine sometime when she didn’t look so tired.

  Maxine turned on the TV above the fireplace for Caleb, put another drink in Kerrianne’s hand, and sat down next to her, breathing a sigh of exhaustion. “I was beginning to think I’d have to pay Bernice to get that makeup,” she grumbled.

  “She looked great! But I’m surprised she could make a decision without her husband.”

  “That was part of the problem, I think. He must have died when that horrendous blue was in style.” Maxine shook her head.

  Kerrianne laughed but quickly found tears starting in her eyes. “Oh, Maxine, at least she’s wearing makeup. I haven’t bought any for almost four years. I’m such a hypocrite, aren’t I? Poor Bernice.”

  “Yep, I definitely think you’re going to burn in the afterlife. When you reach those pearly gates, they’ll specifically ask you if you’ve been nice to Bernice. You, of course, will be honest and say no, so they’ll send you down to shovel coal with me.”

  “Is that why you’re trying so hard with her?” Kerrianne silently thanked Maxine for helping her to smile instead of weep.

  “Probably. But I think it’s a lost cause. I may as well give up now.” She flexed her arms. “I’ve been working in my flower bed, so I know how to handle a shovel. Coal won’t be too different from dirt.”

  “Bernice thinks you should be ashamed of yourself for flirting with men.”

  Maxine rolled her eyes. “Bernice thinks everyone should be ashamed. To her that’s what it is to be religious. But she’s wrong.”

  Kerrianne set down her glass. “I was having some fun with her this morning and told her maybe we should report you to the bishop.”

  Maxine groaned. “Don’t tell me—she took you seriously!”

  “’Fraid so. Sorry.”

  “Ah, for crying out loud, the poor bishop. Do you think if I bake him something he’ll forgive me for Bernice cornering him?”

  “Truthfully? It would have to be something big. Really, really big. Like maybe a dozen apple pies.”

  “I hate making apple pies,” Maxine said morosely. “I swore I’d never make another one for any man.”

  An idea occurred to Kerrianne. “You know what? I think maybe Bernice might be jealous of you and Harold.”

  “Jealous? Of Harold?” Maxine was incredulous. “Whatever for? Why, take last night for instance. He went up on the stand to say the prayer at the single adult fireside, and he fell asleep in his seat.” She paused before adding more thoughtfully, “At least I think he fell asleep. Anyway, he gave a loud snort when the bishop touched his shoulder to tell him it was his turn.”

  Kerrianne laughed. “At least it wasn’t during the prayer. Who knows, maybe he was just thinking.”

  “Yeah, he’s a deep thinker, all right. With all the thinking he does, he should have been able to figure out how to kiss a woman somewhere on the face instead of on the hand all the time. What is it about my hand anyway?” She held the offending body part out as though inspecting it for flaws.

  Kerrianne giggled harder. “Maybe it’s all that fancy lotion, you use.”

  “Speaking of which—” Maxine grabbed a bottle and squirted the contents on Kerrianne’s hand. The faint smell of sweet apricots filled the air. “Try this.”

  “Nice,” Kerrianne said, rubbing it in. “But after seeing these prices, I think just the eye shadow and liner, okay? I can do without the face creams, I think.”

  “Nonsense, we’ll get it all or nothing. Look, I sold enough here to get a few extra things for a really deep discount, and since I don’t need anything, you might as well get what you need. It’ll cost a bit more than just the eye shadow, but you can get the whole face system as well. That’s better than the cheap stuff you can get at the grocery store.”

  “But, Maxine—”

  “No buts. Here’s what I think we’ll need. She began writing a list on a pad of paper while explaining the benefits of each product to Kerrianne. “I’ll place the order tonight,” she said when she finished. “I’ll Fed-Ex it so it should be here before Friday. We want to look good for Friday.”

  Kerrianne’s stomach was abruptly in knots. “About Friday, Maxine. I know I promised to go, but—”

  “I said, No buts. I’m holding you to your promise.” Maxine glanced at her grandfather clock, standing in the corner next to the couch. “Isn’t the school bus due soon? I know you like to be home for your kids.”

  Kerrianne stood and gave Maxine a hug. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I owe you one.”

  �
��You owe me Friday night.”

  “Okay. Friday.” She held up a hand. “But only if that makeup is here. You’ve spoiled me. I’m not going out with that purple stuff on anymore.”

  “Well, there’s always my samples,” Maxine said airily. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you go anywhere looking like that.” She pointed to the TV where a purple dinosaur was apparently exerting a magic hold over Caleb. Maxine leaned out and passed a hand between Caleb’s face the TV. The child didn’t look away or even appear to notice. Maxine looked again at the dinosaur and shuddered. “Now there’s someone who could do with a good makeover. Couldn’t they find a color other than purple?

  Chapter Seven

  The week passed in a haze for Ryan. Each morning at seven, almost without thinking, he sorted the mail, matching addresses in the order he would hit the houses on his route. After the Monday deluge, there was only the normal amount of mail, which he quickly dispatched with his own system. He was the quickest sorter in the entire office. The faster he went out on his route, the faster he could deliver the mail and get home to his children.

  Sometimes the other workers called him Rapid Ryan and talked about him making them look bad. The comments were only half teasing. Despite this, they understood Ryan’s family situation, and for the most part they respected him. His supervisor loved him, and that was what was important.

  On Thursday morning he was out on the road at eight-thirty. As he put mail in the first two boxes, he kept glancing at Kerrianne’s house. Was she waiting on the porch? Would she speak to him?

  But she wasn’t there, and he hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her since Monday. He stared at the letters in his hand with frustration. There was nothing that would require him to go up the walk and ring the doorbell. Why hadn’t someone sent her a lousy package? The morning skies were also clear, so there was no excuse to take the mail to her door, even on the pretense of a good deed. He was beginning to consider sending her a package himself just to see her.

  Yesterday morning, he’d thrown the ball with her three children in front of the house, as the older ones waited for it to get late enough to run to the bus stop, but if she was aware of that, perhaps watching from inside the house, he couldn’t tell. He’d delayed as long as he could but had to move on before the children’s bus came.

  Was something wrong with Kerrianne? He didn’t think so. More likely she was embarrassed by what she’d told him on Monday and couldn’t face him. He wished he could tell her how happy he was that he’d been a part of easing her hurt by delivering her mail. He couldn’t begin to know where he’d be now if Tiger’s constant needs hadn’t seen him through those initial months after Laurie died.

  The letters slipped from his hand back into the box on the next seat as memories of Laurie’s last days flooded over him. Her sister had come to help out, and he wasn’t really needed at home, but how could he stay away? He’d taken extended leave a month before her death when he simply couldn’t bear to leave her anymore. Laurie had chided him about the decision because they’d needed the money—even now he was still paying medical bills—but he’d do it all again. He’d probably take the whole year off. How could he have known their time would be so short? If he could roll back the clock, he would. He’d change everything. He’d work the midnight shift when Laurie was sleeping so that they could spend every moment together during the day.

  The memories faded, leaving as always the bittersweet mixture of love and pain. If he told the entire truth, it hadn’t only been Tiger who’d helped him go on but the knowledge that his job was waiting. Part of that was the eagerness with which Kerrianne had awaited her mail. Why hadn’t he told her that she’d helped him as well? Maybe if he’d told her the full truth, she’d still be there waiting for it. Waiting for him.

  He rolled his eyes at his thoughts. “You are losing it, Ryan boy.” He put the mail in her box and slammed the door shut.

  As he began driving to the next house, he saw movement at the door and looked up eagerly. Kerrianne came onto the porch wearing loose jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt that emphasized the color of her eyes. Her hair was attractively styled, but as on Monday she wasn’t wearing makeup, which made her look different from the strong, composed woman of Saturday night. Not bad, just different. Younger. More vulnerable. How could he not have noticed just how vulnerable she’d looked each morning for nearly four years? Had he been so involved with his own sorrows that he’d failed to notice even a hint of hers? He shook his head, experiencing an odd, swelling sadness in his chest, one that made him want to hold her. Anyone should have been able to tell that she’d suffered a tragedy and wasn’t simply a crazy woman obsessed with the mail.

  She moved gracefully down the walk, and he let the truck roll forward a bit to where her driveway met the sidewalk. Her hair, a dark blonde bordering on brown, glinted in the sunlight. “Hello,” she called. Her smile did funny things to his stomach.

  Ryan stopped and stepped from the truck. This wasn’t protocol, and his boss wouldn’t be pleased that he was attending to his personal life during work hours, but he’d made a promise to Laurie. He’d been too rash when he’d vowed to give up the dating scene last Saturday. Maybe the woman he was supposed to meet had been in front of him all along.

  “Hi,” he said. “I was hoping to see you.”

  “Oh, do you have a package?” She craned her neck to look around him at the mail filling the inside of his vehicle. Ryan noticed the curve of her white throat and wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

  “Uh, no. That’s not it. I wanted to know if you’d like to go to a dance tonight.” He’d become quite adept at asking women out in the past year. In fact, not one had turned him down. And why not? He was relatively young and nice-looking. He had a steady job and no vices to speak of except his acting, which wasn’t really a vice at all. Why, then, was he suddenly nervous as he waited for her response?

  Because I didn’t really care if the others said no.

  Shaking the thought away, Ryan waited expectantly. There was a tightening feeling in his stomach as he noticed that all the color had left her face. She looked ready to faint. “I, uh . . .”

  “Ryan,” he supplied, thinking she’d forgotten his name. “Ryan Oakman.”

  “I can’t go out with you.” She stared down at her hand, twisting her wedding ring. “I’m married.”

  With that, she turned and ran up the steps. Ryan watched her go. Strangely, he didn’t feel rejected or upset that she hadn’t said good-bye. He felt only the same swelling sadness that had made him want to hold her earlier. “I understand,” he said to Kerrianne, though she was beyond hearing. “Part of me is still married, too.” As he climbed back into the truck, he added to himself, “Too fast, Ryan. Way too fast.”

  Laurie had always said he moved too fast in everything he did. She’d made him wait a whole month before agreeing to marry him and another three until the wedding—months that had been torture for Ryan. But she’d been worth fighting for. Even knowing the ending, the horrible, heart-wrenching agony of losing her, he’d do it all again.

  He believed Kerrianne was also worth fighting for. There was something special about her, something that went beyond the desire he had to comfort her. Or the smoothness of her white throat.

  Instead of asking her out, he should have asked about letting Tiger play with her son. Or if she’d had a sudden opening in her preschool. After all, Tiger had been bugging him all week about coming over here. A smile came to Ryan’s face as he thought of his small son. That was Tiger. Once he got something in his head, it was difficult to make him forget.

  Should he ask her now? Ryan brought a hand up to scratch at his bearded cheek, almost surprised to remember he hadn’t yet shaved it off. Kerrianne’s house sat blankly and unwelcoming before him. No, he couldn’t face it today. One rejection would have to tide him over. Forcing a grin of defeat, however temporary, he drove to the next house.

  Though Ryan finished his route in the usual time, t
he day had gone by way too slowly. At last he arrived at his baby-sitter’s, a small brick rambler several streets from his own house, to find Ria in front sitting on the cement stairs. Her glum face was red with cold, and her short black hair hung limply and rather too slick against the sides of her face. That meant she needed to wash it. What was it with his daughter anyway? A year ago he hadn’t been able to get her out of the bath; now he had to remind her to take one.

  Ria stared at him morosely. “Hi, Dad.”

  “What, no hug? No smile?”

  “I hate school,” she returned, clenching her small fists. “And I hate coming here after school. Jenny hates me.” Jenny was the baby-sitter’s daughter, and she often caused Ria of a lot of grief.

  “Jenny doesn’t hate you. It’s just all the kids her mother watches, you know? She worries about them taking up all her time.”

  “She doesn’t like to share anything,” Ria said. “But I don’t care, ’cause I hate her too.”

  Ryan blinked. Ria was often passionate, but she didn’t usually claim to hate people. He sat beside her on the step. “Did something happen at school today?”

  She shook her head, staring down at her hands. “Everything’s fine. Are we going to see Sam tonight?”

  “You know we won’t be starting on the new play until after Christmas. Besides, tonight’s Thursday. You have basketball practice.”

  Ria brightened. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Go get into the truck, okay? I’ll get Tiger.” He stood up and rang the bell.

  Susan, his sitter, let him into the house, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Hi,” she greeted him cheerily. “Come on in. Tiger’s in the family room.”

  Sure enough, Ryan found Tiger watching television as usual, eyes glued to the cartoon figures. “Hey, Tiger,” Ryan called.

  “Hi, Dad.” Tiger didn’t so much as glance in his direction.

  “Did you see Ria?” Susan asked, sitting on the edge of a worn pink and white sofa.

  Ryan shifted his gaze to her. She wasn’t an unattractive woman, but she looked as though she hadn’t much time for herself. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her face showed traces of old makeup. She wore her customary jeans with the tight legs that had been popular years before and a T-shirt that barely stretched to cover her swelling midriff. Was she going to have a baby? Or had she put on weight like his mother? He didn’t dare ask. He wondered when she found time to sleep.